I was born during the full moon, March 13, 1998, and my mother told me that she did not feel much pain when I came out from her womb.
"You were a normal baby. I was surprised to see you as big as other babies I've ever seen in my life. I thought you were smaller in size. Until this day, I counted the labor as a miracle. There was not much pain, just a little stomachache. I told the nurse to take me to the toilet, thinking that I need to poop. But, the nurse told me to push because she saw your head. One push, and then a loud cry!"
I was getting bored listening to the same story repeated on each of my birthday. When I was six years old, and my younger twin sisters was born, the comparison added.
"You are a good daughter. Ivanka and Iveta gave me too much pain, I would never have another child!"
My father laughed, in a mocking tone, while held one of the two babies whom I can not identify yet. I laughed too, in a confused manner, copying him, with no idea who was the baby in his arm, and who was in my mother's arms.
When the twins reached the age of six, and their little brains could proceeded a more complex information, their looks and personality started to differ from one another. Ivanka, the oldest and the quiet is taller, having a brown eyes like my father, and darker skin tone like my mother. While Iveta, the talkative one, has a dark eyes, as dark as the night, and a lighter skin tone like my father. Both of them have a silky black straight hair, as beautiful as a woman in every shampoo commercial on tv.
I looked slightly different from them, and from both of my parents.
My skin is darker than the rest of the family, and my eyes are blue. Instead of having a straight hair like my parents, I have a curly hair that is very difficult to comb. The other distinctive mark is my height. I am taller than other six years old in my kindergarten, and definitely taller than the twins at the same age. My father, who is cold and distant, told me that I inherited it from my deceased grandmother on my mother side. His mother was as short as any normal asian woman. He, himself is just 5'8 guys, just like the rest of his family.
"My mother in law, your grandmother is from the eastern, a native from a tiny Island called Kanawa. She is taller than everyone in her town, and stronger. She is very strong, brave, and once punched me on my face when I dated your mother. Too bad, she died before we were getting married. We used to think we would live in Kanawa, but then we have to change the plan. What is life but a series of changes."
There is no explanation about my skin tone, and my blue eyes although my father's is half Germany-half Indonesian. I asked my mother if I got my skin tone from my grandmother, she said no. My grandmother has a brown skin, but a light brown skin. Mine looks like a native papuan, identical to african people I saw on tv. I thought one of my grandparents or my great grandparents have blue eyes, but none of them got it. They all have brown eyes…
"Maybe those blue eyes comes from one of our ancestor, four of five generations before us… You know, things like that happened!"
My mother tried to find the most reasonable answer for my annoying question about the color of my eyes. But, I already feels different. Not only feels different, most of the time I feel alienated. It is as if everyone in my family came from one identical place, while I came from a different place, a strange land I tried to picture in my mind although I always failed.
" Mom, there is a faraway land calling for me, i know it, I can listen to its melodious tune ringing in my ear but i could not find where it is. The faraway land is not located in the map, because so many people believe it doesn't exist, but I do believe it exists, and I will always be."
I was twelve years old when I heard the tune ringing in my ears, a sweet music in the air that tried to talk to me about a secret place, my native land, but I did not understand what it was all about. I could only feel the warm in my heart, there was a feeling that I was very near to the land where I came from, the land my family could not reach because they are not the native, they could not listen. Or, could they? And, what if I had been trapped in my own fantasy?
I ended up sitting in the Church's office, answering questions from an old parish priest, Father Pablo, who is seventy three years old and looks like a good wizard from a fantasy movie. My mother dragged me to his office a day after I told her that I can listen to a melodious tune in the air. My mother demanded exorcism, believing that anything I heard was coming from a demonic force, trying to steal my soul. The old priest, Father Pablo, nodded in a graceful manner, tried to calm her down.
"There are a lot of possibilities in this case. We need to check on everything. I mean…sometimes there is a psychological problem caused by the situation at home or school. She is also a teenager. It could also a hormonal change…"
I was nervous when he asked for my full name as if he was not the one who baptized me, and he is not a family's friend. The old man acted so strange.
"I knew your name, but, I prefer you to mention your own name, with your own lips because it has to be like that. Do not expect people to mention your name, what if that person pronounce it in a wrong way?"
If I could write list on things I hate about myself, my name would be on the top of the list. His question, in fact, raised an unexplained anger in me, i already forgot that it was a beautiful sunday noon, the second week of May, when all the daisies flowers bloomed brighter than any other month. I also forgot that I just attended the mass and singing Ave Maria out loud.
I hate my name that much.
"Ah, you are a shy girl."
No. I am not a shy girl. I just loaded everything inside, and tried to be as quiet as possible because if i spoke on everything, most of the time, i will get scolded, or i will be dragged like this, to a priest's office, for an exorcism!
"She is very serious and quiet, and she could never get relax for a while!"
I have been keeping all my secrets inside, Mom. I told you about the melodious tune I heard, and you forced me to come here. What if I told you all my feelings? Maybe you would call me crazy!
"So, you did not want to tell me your name?"
"Biru. Teratai Biru."
Father Pablo's eyes getting bigger. He looked surprise.
"Wow, what a unique sound coming out from your own mouth. Biru. I will call you Biru! Teratai Biru Nika Nachtnebel? You have your dad's last name?"
"No. She only has her Indonesian name."
My mother answered the question for me. I sighed in a relieved manner. All of a sudden, I felt like the heaviness inside my chest disappeared.
"Ha! What an independent person, no family name. Very independent… Interesting!
Years later, so many people knew me as Blue Lotus, the translation of my name into English. But at that moment, for the first time, I felt like finally somebody would understood me, not only because he knew that i am an independent person, but also because I just realized that he also has a deep blue eyes, deeper than mine, an eyes that could look into the shape of each souls.