Sa loob ng bus.
A pitiful poetic effort written in my mother tongue.
I know i’m a big loser when it comes to written prose in Tagalog – my vocabulary is of nursery school standard – but hey, at least I tried. (:
***
Sa loob ng bus.
Sa loob ng bus,
Maliit, masikip, makipot ang daanan,
Masakit ang umupo sa matigas na upuan,
Minsan punuan, minsan walang kalaman-laman,
Maamoy, masangsang pag maraming Indian.
Araw-araw, ay aking libangan
Ang tumingin-tingin ng mga kotse sa daan.
Hindi kagaya doon sa Gensan
Magagarang klase, makikita dito saan man.
Subalit gaya ng alinmang libangan,
Ito’y ‘di mo maiiwasang pagsawaan.
Kaya naman batung-bato ang isipan;
Parang nakalubog na sago sa ilalim ng gulaman.
Mahirap ang maglakbay nang mag-isa lamang;
Walang kausap, walang kakwentuhan,
Walang karamay sa sikip ng upuan,
Walang kasabay sa patutunguhuan.
******
Sa loob ng bus, buhay ay walang kulay
Pakiramdam ko tuloy may kulang sa buhay:
Isang taong pwede kong maging karamay
Sa aking araw-araw na paglalakbay.
‘Di ko naman naisip ang bagay na ito dati
Ngunit ang kalungkutang nadarama’y tumitindi.
Tunay ng pag-ibig, puso’y humihingi
Makatakas sa lungkot ng bawa’t gabi
Sa loob ng bus.
*******

Recently turned 19, I am an International Baccalaureate slave, a Roman Catholic, now of legal age to vote, to drink alcohol, to drive, to marry, to smoke, and to f*** around. I am manufactured in the Philippines but currently utilized in Singapore. I am the thick-skinned, ingrate bastard who dumped the Government in exchange for a $100,000 two-year private scholarship. Most people in the Philippines call me Row, as a result of a passed down genetic trait that triggers laziness. Actually, my nickname is Anju, which I am really really not so fond of. But I am fortunate enough not to suffer from the ubiquitous Filipino frenzy of naming nicknames with letter 'h's sandwiched between other letters, e.g. Jhong, Jhing, Bhong, or Bhing, and from the usual repetition of the same syllables - usually created by the whole extended family giggling in delight as one utters his or her baby cry while shitting unconsciously and secretively on the lampin, inside the duyan - resulting in stuttering names like Ton-ton, Ping-Ping, Bam-bam, Ging-ging and Don-don.
I am currently having the time of my life.
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