ALIMANTAK | TOMO VIII
TRIGGER WARNING Some of the written works in this volume contain sensitive issues and explicit contents (e.g., sexual abuse, suicide, etc.). To ensure your psychological safety, we encourage you to mentally and emotionally prepare for them as you leaf through the pieces; continuing your read is in your hands. Disclaimer: The works in this volume do not reflect the publication’s overall values and principles as one. All of these are the artistic expressions of the authors.
ALIMANTAK TOMO VII
The DEMOCRAT
The Independent Student-Publication of University of Nueva Caceres
Kasapi
College Editors Guild of the Philippines (CEGP) Bicol Association of Campus Journalists (BASCAJ)
Tanggapan
Right-wing, UNC Sports Palace, University of Nueva Caceres, J. Hernandez Avenue, Naga City
Reserbado ang mga karapatang-ari sa mga indibidwal na awtor ng mga akda, larawan at ilustrasyon sa isyung ito. Hindi maaaring ilathala, ikopya o ipamudmod sa anumang anyo ang mga akda, larawan at ilustrasyon ng walang pahintulot ng awtor. Hindi maaaring ibenta sa kahit anong paraan at pagkakataon ang kopyang ito. Karapatang-ari © 2021
ABOUT THE
COVER
We touched, parted, Stood side by side, Snuggled, cradled; I found a place to hide; But what I felt swallowed me Was one with me after all.
PROLOGUE Our existence is molded by a seemingly mystical current. The rift of time is weaved to only go forth yet our dimension somehow runs on a circle; leaping forward then gushing back again to where it was. History repeats. One species goes extinct and with that, one thrives. Society crumbles and then be reforged. Tears flow and dry into thin air, then return to the human system by some other form through a systemic means. No way that there’s humanity can ever do to figure out this flow. It seems chaotic and random yet it is also in virtue of order as it aligns. Through time, we have surfed the tides of rough and calm currents alike. So long as the universe expands, we set sail until we tame the waves.
TABLE OF CONTENTS IF NOT NOW,
WHEN?
Amor Fati Demokrasya Nasaan ka Until When Eulogy of Bad Mourner Mga Kundiman sa Hawla Selyadong Karapatan Manifest Voicey The Moon’s Paradox
10 12 14 15 17 19 22 24 26
29
Vodoo Child
33
Ang Daan
34
Beyond Conscious
36
Voice of the Unheard
39
Change: Take it or leave it
40
Hinaharap
42
Peter’s Pick
44
Alas tres na pala, Alas tres na naman
45
Libtong
METAMORPHOSIS
THE
UNKOWN
The Aftermath
48
Limbo
52
Ikatlong Mukha ng Barya
53
Metamorphose
55
New Dawn
59
Redemption
60
Welcome to the 18th
62
Tatlong Yugto
64
‘‘
Kahit anong titig mo sa magkabaliktad na tatsulok na salamin
‘‘
Sa bandang huli ganun pa din Babagsak ang huling butil buhangin
ng
Amor fati M
asigabo ang palakpakang umaalingawngaw sa aking pandinig. Ito na yata ang kanilang pabaong yakap at halik sa akin, matapos kong buksan ang aking mga pintuan upang patuluyin ang mangilan-ngilan sa aking mga kapitbahay--kaibigan, kadugo, at mga kanikaniyang kasama. Hindi ako nagkamaling ilakad sila sa lahat ng aking dinaanan. Sa loob ng aking tahanang nakasaksi ng lahat ng aking takot; sanhi ng balisa; pagguho ng tiwala kanino man; at higit sa lahat, pakikipagbuno sa gutom. Sabi ni Inay, huwag kong ipag-alala ang anomang wala sa aking mga kamay. Ang ‘di abot-kaya ay maaari kong ipagpasa-Diyos na lamang. Siguro nga ay may plano Siya--sa mga dalangin kong tila hindi marinig, patuloy kong ipinapasakamay sa sinomang may hawak ng tadhana ang aking kapalaran. Dalangin kong hawakan ng mga kamay ng tadhana ang mapagnasang katawan ng bawat gabing pilit na bumabalot sa akin.
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NI NORENE CANTOR DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI CHRISTIAN REGANIT Hanggang ngayon ay pilit kong tinitiwalaan ang kabutihan sa gitna ng lupit ng aking kapalaran. Nananalig akong ang mga kamay na may hawak sa akin ay siyang may mabuting kalooban. Hindi Niya ako ipapahamak; hindi Niya kami pababayaan. Dalangin kong bigyan ako ng pagkakataong mamuhay nang maayos, kahit hindi masagana; kahit ipagkait sa akin ang nais kong makapagtapos ng pag-aaral. Tuwing gabi’y bulong sa Kanya ang mga katagang “Huwag Mo po sanang hayaang mapamahak si Inay.” Sa lahat ng aking mga panalangin, ito ang mga bulong na inaasahan kong pakikinggan Niya. Nais ko lamang isang gabi’y uuwi akong hindi umiiyak ang inay; muli kong bubuksan ang aming pintuan nang walang balisa-mapayapa, ingay ng mga kubyertos sa hapagkainan lamang ang maririnig, kasama ng mga pinakamalalakas na halakhak sa mga kwento na bumuo ng araw. Nais ko lamang umuwi nang may tanda ng bunga ng aming mga paghihirap. Hindi ko alam kung kailan ang aking
huling dalangin. Wala rin sa aking isip kung ano ang aking mga huling bulong sa hangin. Ngunit ngayong gabi, sinikap kong huwag pagdikitin ang aking mga palad; sa halip ay tinitigan ko sila-makalyo, marumi, maraming paso, at mahapdi. Ninais ko mang palakpakan ang aking sarili, tulad ng ginawa ng aking mga mahal sa buhay; dahil sa lahat ng aking pinagdaanan, at hanggang ngayon ako’y humihinga’t nagbibigay-inspirasyon. Hindi ko rin mawari kung bakit isang katulad ko pa ang nagsisilbing modelo ng katatagan. Ngunit siguro ay dapat ko na lang ipagpasalamat na ang aking karanasan sa ngayon ay isang halimbawa ng tamang paghaharap sa realidad. Palakpakan mo ang iyong sarili; yakapin mo ang iyong sarili; may nagmamahal sa iyo; sapat ka. Ito rin ang mga katagang nais kong sabihin sa aking sarili. Ngunit alam kong magtataingang-kawali lamang ako dahil sa ingay ng aking itinuturing na tahanan. Tanong ko sa aking sarili: kaninong palad ba ang pinakamakapangyarihan bukod sa aming mga kamay na pagod sa pakikipagbuno sa hirap na naririto na nang kami ay ipanganak? Masakit ang aking mga palad ngayon. Kung ngayong gabi ay may lakas pa akong harapin Siya, siguro ay hihingin ko na lamang na ako ay managinip nang may ngiti si Inay na abot sa kanyang tenga.
Nasaan ka? NI JONAS CORPORAL “Isang boto para sa pagbabago” Mga linyang malimit na marinig ko Paparating na halalan ay sigurado Nasa’n ka pagbabago? Bakit tila napakalayo mo?
Sa pagbukas ng aking mga mata sa bawat umaga Batid ang pamilya na lugmok sa hirap at pag asa Isang kahig , isang tuka biyaya na sa kanila Bulok na sistema, marami ang nagkakandarapa.
Kasarinlang ipinaglaban ng mga bayani sa ating bayan Pilipinas para sa Pilipino hangad natin ay kaunlaran Pinamunuan tayo ng mga elitista at pulitikong makabayan Galing, talino sa demokrasya ay nagpingkian, nagtagisan
Pagsakit at kahirapan ay walang kulay ng politika DDS o dilawan, lahat ay nagdurusa Mahirap bang maunawaan ang hiling nila? Maayos na gobyerno, kapanalig at kasangga.
Pangarap nating paraiso halos abot na ng ating bayan Unti-unti nating nadama ang ginhawa ng kaunlaran Sa pagkakaisa, sipag at talino ng mga lingkod bayan Maliit na bayan sa silangan, nakilala sa daigdigan
Ilang henerasyon pa ba ang kailangang magdusa Sa palpak na gobyerno sa tao’y walang awa Isang boto katumbas ng kinabukasan ko Biglang nasayang, nabasura, at naglaho
Ngunit isang araw sa aking paggising Ang liwanag ng pag-asa’y unti-unting nagdilim Bansang demokratiko napasailalim ng isang pamumuno Walang humpay na patayan, marahas at madugo Nasa’n na ang resulta ng aking boto Na akala ko’y siyang magsisilbing pagbabago Ang pag-asang sa aking pamilya’y aahon Sa banta ng kamatayan, dahas at gutom.
Ang kariktan ng pag-asa na sa tao’y nagmula Inabuso, inangkin at tahasang dinaraya Kasalukuyang administrasyon akala ko ba’y mapagpalaya Mayroon namang nagawa, karamihan ay salita Isang boto para sa pagbabago, Kabataan mamulat at magparehistro Imoralidad, kapabayaan at kapalpakan sa serbisyo Panagutin ang may sala, sino man ‘yang Poncio Pilato Isang boto ay mahalaga, sa pagpili maging mausisa Manindigan at ipaglaban karapatan sa demokrasya Ilang buhay pa ang kailangang magbayad at magdusa Mamulat ka na, kung hindi ngayon, kailan pa?
GUHIT NI ROSE CLAVANO DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI CHRISTIAN REGANIT
13 | ALIMANTAK
Eulogy of a
MAD -
MOURNER
BY BERLINETH NYMIA MONTES The sensation of your departure still lingers in her— etched in her muscle memory like a nursery rhyme you are the effigy of regrets she'll willingly burn to radicalize the grieving child who learned to revolt by her own
your aftertaste made her a demented mourner of the condemned that never fails to condemn the mourner your haunting memory transformed her into a vivid space of contradictions and messy definition of redemption she built you a museum of sorrows made from the excerpts of her burned poems abstract of dreams eulogy of unsaid apologies and blurred photographs that were better off unfilmed as her way of remembering you she drowned her every inch in blessed stream of tears, recited every psalm and prayer that she once memorized as a kid worshipped all gods begging them to bring you back to her but only to receive your cold body and pale lips it's almost half-past of a decade— how can someone's departure be so comforting and destructive all at once that a soul can make a home out of its debris? 14 | ALIMANTAK
GRAPHICS BY BRANDON JON DELOS SANTOS PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
M I R R O R
A N D
M I S E R Y
PHOTO BY BERLINETH NYMIA MONTES
GRAPHICS BY BRANDON JON DELOS SANTOS LAYOUT BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
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MGA KUNDIMAN SA HAWLA BY NEIL ANDREW FORMALEJO PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
Nais kong dumapo sa masukal na sanga Ipunas sa nagluluntiang dahon ang aking mga luha Iunat nang husto ang mabalahibo kong pakpak Antaying maghilom ang sugat na dulot ng itak Palitan ng kundiman ang aking pag-iyak Oh kaysaya nila kapag naririnig nila ang mahiwaga kong kanta Hindi nila alam na ito ay iyak dulot ng aking pagkabalisa Mula sa aking hawla, narinig ko poot ng aking kapwa Swerte ko’t akoý balot ng kulay kaya’t paminsan-minsan akoý kanilang pinapalaya Pagkatapos ay ibubunot ang tali sa aking paa Sabi nila, itoý santuwaryo ng mga gaya kong ang lahi ay paubos na Ngunit araw-araw ang pagdating ng mga bagong koleksyon Mga liping bihira ma-engkwentro, galing sa masukal na nayon Sa kanilang katawan ay may butas, dulot ng bala Lagpas tainga ang mga ngiti ng tagapangalaga, habang silaý nagpalitan ng pera Proteksyon at progreso ang pangako sa bawat pirma ng papel Swerte rin kong may ibang busilak ang loob, mga natatanging anghel Ngunit mas marami ang may dugong luntian Dugo’t laman namin ay sa kanila nakalaan Isang buhay namin katumbas lamang ng ilang daan Isang lakad pasulong, dalawang talon paurong Mga pangakong ang mga agila ay malayang makalilipad muli Mistulang itoý nakabaluktot at pinapaikot na parang gulong Mga kundiman namin ay sa hangin na lang maikukubli Kung patuloy ang pagkaganid at pagnanasa sa aking lahi
ALIMANTAK | 17
Until When? BY KYRA FERMEL VICTORIA GRAPHICS & PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT My mind is like an ocean with continuous waves of emotions intensely pulling me down, should I try to float or just drown? Frustration, sadness, and anger have fed me Sometimes it’s overwhelming, these feelings Feelings, why aren’t they enough to hate you? You got those flags in a monochromatic hue Been mingling with others and spending time with myself I feel like I’m in the midst of the sea You’re out of my sight but where’s the peace and serenity? Never thought you would still continue to confuse my mind Am I imprisoned by the thoughts and memories of you? What if you find your way back, will I welcome you back? I hope not, please make me feel like I’ve had enough ‘Cause I know in the end it will begin with tears again How long must I stall before letting go? Do I do it myself? Or do I wait for you? If not now, when? When should I let go To stop this repeated way like an ocean flow
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Waves crash crest to crest, They follow a pattern, a cycle But I’ll never be able to stay in ours
SELYADONG KARAPATAN NI RACHEL PAJA
I
sa siyang matalino, masayahin, at mapagmahal na anak. Laging nasa top ng klase at nangangarap na maging isang fashion designer balang-araw. Ang pagsusuot ng kanyang mga damit ang paraan ng pagpapahayag sa sarili at para na rin makaiwas sa stress ng buhay. “Aalis ka na namang ganyan ang suot, tingnan mo, kinulang sa mangas, ang ikli ng pambaba, at puro make up yang mukha mo!” mariin na sambit ng kanyang lola. “Gusto mo bang mabastos ka nang dahil sa pananamit mo?” dagdag pang sabi ng kanyang tatay. Hindi na makapagpasya ang dalaga sa kanyang mga isusuot sa araw - araw dahilan sa nakagawiang paniniwala ng kanyang pamilya na dapat laging balot ang kanyang katawan - hindi magandang tingnan sabi nila. Maya’t maya pa’y dumagdag ang kanyang nanay at kuya. “Nakikita mo bang nagsusuot ako ng ganyan? Maging conservative ka naman! Walang aalis ng bahay hangga’t ganyan ang suot mo,” babala ng ina sa kanya. Dumagdag pa ang kanyang kuya, “Iniingatan ka nila para sa sarili mo, kung mabastos ka sa daan hindi ba’t kasalanan mo din naman at nagsuot ka niyan?” Hindi ko maintindihan, marahil ganito kanilang pag-iisip dahil sa kanilang nakagisnan. Magmula sa lola ng aking lola ay paniniwala nang “walang mababastos kung walang magpapabastos” at simula rin noong nagkaisip ako ay hindi ko na mabilang kung ilang beses kong sinubukang kumbinsihin sila. Heto, at wala pa ring pagbabago. Makalipas ang ilang sandali, lumapit ang ama nang nakangisi sa
kanyang bunsong dalaga, hinawakan nito ang braso at nagsabing, “Malayongmalayo talaga ang iyong porma sa iyong ina, hindi ka ba nababahala anak na baka may mangyari sa iyong masama sa daan o kahit saan man?” “Sa kalagayan ko ho ngayon? mukhang mas nakakatakot pang manatili dito sa bahay kaysa sa mga makakasalamuha ko sa labas.” sagot ng dalaga. “At mukhang mas nirerespeto pa ako ng ibang tao kaysa sa sarili kong mga kadugo, kaya okay lang naman magsuot ng ganito lalo na’t wala namang mababastos kung walang bastos ‘di ba ho? kailangan ko bang ulitulitin ‘yun sa inyo?” dagdag pa ng dalaga habang may diin ang kanyang huling sinabi. Papasok na ako nang kwarto ng napansin kong narinig ng aking ina ang pag-uusap naming iyon ni tatay. Kita sa kanyang mata ang halong pangamba at pagkabigla. Padabog akong bumalik sa kwarto upang magbihis at magsuot ng kung anong gusto nila - isang hoodie at pajama. Dire-diretso akong lumabas ng kwarto at nagpaalam na may bibilhin na lamang sa tindahan at hindi na tutuloy sa aking pupuntahan. Agad naman akong pinayagan ngunit muli silang may sinabi. “Buti naman at ganyan na ang suot mo.” ALIMANTAK | 19 sambit ng aking lola.
“Hindi ho dapat ako ang mag-aadjust para sa mga walang kwenta at may makikitid na utak,” Iritadong sambit ng dalaga.
Makalipas ang ilang oras hindi pa rin bumabalik ang dalaga nang biglang may kumatok sa pinto, mga tao mula sa barangay na may dalang masamang balita.
Nabigla ang kanyang lola sa iniasal ng bunso nyang apo, “ Ganyan na ba kabastos ang mga kabataan ngayon? Wala ka nang modo at natuto ka pang sumagot!? Kayong mga kabataan talaga, oo!”
“Magandang gabi po. Nandito po kami upang itanong sa inyo kung kilala nyo ba ang babaeng ito?” ipinakita ng taga barangay ang litrato ng isang babae.
“Nagpapaliwanag ho ako, hindi ako sumasagot, pati ba naman ipagtanggol ang sarili para maintindihan ng magulang ay pagsagot na rin at bastos? Bakit hindi nyo muna subukan akong pakinggan?” dagdag ng dalaga. “Tama na ho ang diskusyon na ito, nagsuot naman na siya nang tama at naaayon, bakit ‘di natin siya hayaan umalis na lang” sabat ng kanyang kuya. Minsan napag-isip-isipan ko na rin na lagi na lang bang tama ang mga matatanda? Alam nga ba talaga nila ang nararapat sa kanilang anak at wala nga ba talagang karapatan ang isang bata na ipagtanggol ang kanyang sarili? Habang ako ay naglalakad pauwi, ramdam ko ang malamig na paligid - alam kong hindi normal alam kong may mali, sandali - natigil ako at huminga nang malalim. Maya’t-maya ay napalingon ako sa madilim na sulok. Nakita ko ang isang pamilyar na mukha na tila bang nasisiyahan sa nakita at ang anino ay untiunti ng lumapit, bumulong bigla. “Ang mga tulad mong dalaga ay hindi na dapat na lumalabas pa ng ganitong oras. Walang maniniwala sa paliwanag ng isang kabataang tulad mo at kailanma’y hindi bibigyan ng karapatan. Sila ang iyong magulang at lahat ng sinasabi’t inuutos nila ay dapat mong ginagawa,” Pamilyar ang boses na iyon ngunit hindi ko mapagtanto kung kanino, nagsitayuan ang aking balahibo kasabay nang mabilis na paghila sa akin at sa sobrang kaba ay wala akong nagawa. Ang alam ko’y ako ay bumulagta at naiwang nakabukas ang mga lumuluhang mata at sa aking huling hininga, nakita ko ang aking ama. 20 | ALIMANTAK
Sumagot ang matanda, “Aba’y apo ko ito ah! Bakit po ano na naman po ba ang ginawa nito?” nagtatakang sambit ng lola. Matapos ipaliwanag ng mga tao mula sa barangay sumama ang pamilya sa isang lugar na itinuro at tumambad sa kanila ang isang madilim at mabahong bakanteng lote. Bumungad ang isang katawan ng dalaga na may suot na hoodie at pajama ngunit ito’y nakahiwalay na sa kanyang katawan at wala nang suot. Hindi makapaniwala ang pamilya sa kanilang nakita na ang kanilang dalaga na nakasuot ng konserbatibong damit ay heto nakahandusay, ginahasa at walang buhay. Labis na pagdadalamhati at pagsisisi ang namayani sa kanyang pamilyang naiwan. Lubos na nagsisisi ang pamilya sa pag-iisip na kinagisnan ng anak nila. “Sana noon pa tayo naniwala hindi lang sa kanya ngunit pati na rin sa mga kabataang kagaya niya. Ang saloobin ng kabataan ay dapat din pala nating pakinggan.” Dahil sa pagmamatigas at paninindigan na laging tama ang matatanda, napahamak ang dalaga. Kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan ngunit kailan kaya sila bibigyan ng pagkakataon na magsalita at ipaglaban ang kanilang karapatan? Sa paglipas ng panahon ng bagong henerasyon ang uusbong, atin sanang pakinggan ang kanilang mga hinaing dahil kung hindi ngayon kailan ang tamang panahon? Marahil totoo nga na nasa huli ang pagsisisi.
GUHIT AT DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI CHRISTIAN REGANIT
ManifEst BY JONAH MAE BAGSBAS
Tree shadows shifting East to west, To the thump of midnight That stains my tears, I struggle to wake.
22 | ALIMANTAK
GRAPHICS BY BRANDON JON DELOS SANTOS PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
I witness yesterday drift by on tattered wings. I’d chase it but there is no use reviving what wallows in the bleeding.
Swallowed up while burning Punch-drunk on ignition Bled as I emerged I was young but the young are never too young Or too far removed to know what it’s like to feel. With shoulders boiling, Amid knives and scars, under dry leather hearts, I still don’t live like there’s no tomorrow. I blossom in the thought the future will hail me for my ascension to timelessness. But in the name of everything That is not spoken An augury remains We don’t know that we are blind In the way that we are broken What if this is no fortuity What if my redemption Is a pause
S O L A C E
PHOTO BY BERLINETH NYMIA MONTES
“
V
OICEY
BY MAUREEN SAN LORENZO PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
“It was the evening of August 16, 2017. The rain was pouring so hard that night, and we just finished our Philosophy class. My boyfriend Philipiño walked me home; we kept laughing together, taking no notice of the heavy rain,” she smiled as she reminisced about their happy moments together. “When we arrived at my house, I hugged him tight before we bid our goodbyes without me knowing it’ll be the last.” A sudden stop took place, and her eyes started to become teary while the people in the room kept their attention on her. Voicey Candelaria continued talking as she got her strength back to speak again. “As I went inside our house, I sat and checked my bag, which I usually do once I returned home. I took out my notebooks, and together with these is Philipiño’s Philosophy book which reminded me of tomorrow’s examination. Without hesitation, I grabbed my umbrella and walked outside, heading in Philipiño’s direction to give his book back. When my eyes saw him, he was bickering with the police, which seemed aberrant, making me feel something wrong is happening,” her voice cracked, but she continued talking. “I was about to call his name when the officers grabbed him aggressively heading to the dark alley.”
22 | ALIMANTAK
“How many police officers have you seen Voicey?” The plaintiff’s lawyer asked. Her eyes stared angrily at the three police in the room, making the situation more intense. She gritted her teeth and gripped her hands on the witness chair as she continued her statement. “There are three of them. I followed to the dark alley as my heart raced so fast. I hid behind the mango tree and saw these three officers drag my boyfriend near the trash bins. I heard Philipiño beg and kept shouting that he is not a drug user, but these three officers just laughed at him. I heard the tallest police cackle,” she looked at SPO1 Mario Greed intensely. “The other one, I heard him admit that they knew Philipiño isn’t a drug user, and then he laughed so loud that it gave me goosebumps,” a tear fell to her right cheek. “Philipiño kept begging, and he even mentioned that he is going to take our examination for the next day as he showed his ballpen in his right hand. They never listened, and the smirks on these people’s faces are more of a demon! You are all demons!” Voicey stood up, shouting and pointing out the three police in front of her. The people in the room can feel t h e anger and excruciation in her shaking voice. “These people killed my boyfriend! They shot Philipiño thrice in exchange for their damn promotions! I saw it all. I even heard them congratulating each other as Philipiño took his last breath,” Voicey’s voice filled the
whole room. “I cannot move at that moment. I don’t know what to do. I wanted to shout for help, but the desolated alley kept me helpless, and no one was there. It will never be acceptable! He deserves justice! You are all demons!” The sound of the judge’s gavel stopped Voicey from shouting. She closed her fist and took a deep breath to calm herself. She walked down to her seat without removing her stare at the three accused police. Her knees quivered, and her hands were cold and clammy. As she went back to her chair, her mind kept flashing the petrifying scenario, again and again, keeping her zoned out while her tears were unstoppable. She lost track of time, and then she heard the gavel once again that awakened her back to reality. “For the crime of murder, SPO1 Mario Greed, SPO2 Rico Stoney, and SPO1 Marco Shaitan. We, the jury, find the defendants not guilty...” “No! No way!” Voicey protested. The three police gave her the smirks they gave to Philipiño that night, making her breathing stop in a moment. She was traumatized by those smirks and laughter. “Please listen to me! They are all criminals! Listen to me!” Voicey begged. “You should have taken a video of it, Voicey; you will never win just by your statements without proof. Everything goes as planned, and this court will never hear you. Take care, Voicey,” SPO1 Marco Shaitan whispered as he passed by, giving Voicey a smile that shows victory. “No,” she whispered. Time passed, and the courtroom was empty already. Voicey did not know what to do, nor to think. Philipiño’s mother asked her, but she did not respond. “Tita, I have to go,” Voicey said to Philipiño’s mother. She did not know where to go, but she kept walking. She can’t feel the heat of the sun, can’t endure the
26 | ALIMANTAK
tiredness, and can’t feel anything. She looked down and found herself at the grave of Philipiño. “I wasn’t heard, we are not heard, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry..” she sobbed and hugged herself in front of the gravestone of Philipiño. “I speak out the truth but still deprived of justice. Is the law helping? Or Is it us who are helpless? Is this always like this? Will it always be like this?” Voicey asked as if someone will answer her questions. She stood up, but--- she fell to the ground feeling the numbness of her heart. She wanted to shout, but she can’t breathe properly. Her blood was coming out of her mouth. Her vision started to get blurry, but her peripheral view saw men, three men whom she will never forget. “You got in our way, Voicey; you should have just kept quiet,” the man said, and he shot Voicey in the mouth. The curtain fell, and the applause from the audience filled the room. “In the end, Voicey wasn’t heard, and Philipiño did not receive justice. The world was too cruel for them, the law was blinded, and their love was tragic,” the narrator ended the play. Again, the audience gave them a round of applause. Some started to stand and walk out of the theater. “That was a good play, wasn’t it?” One of the audience asked. “Yeah, the ending was lit! Let’s go and eat. The play is over.” At the back of the curtain, Voicey can hear the conversation of the audience. She smiled bitterly, looking at the blood on her hands. “The play is not yet over; little did we know, it is still happening.”
The
MOON’S
Paradox BY MARIA JHOANNA YASIS PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
The moon is a paradox the moon is a paradox it never left, yet it never stayed it never left, yet it never stayed it never change, yet never the same it never change, yet never the same its gleaming elegance captivated my utter mortality its gleaming elegance captivated my utter mortality completely oblivious with its palpable inconsistencies completely oblivious with its palpable inconsistencies it was a new moon when you said I love you i never knew it was a crescent when I did too but i know you do it was on its first quarter when we stared at the night skies the moon is ever changing it was a full moon when you swore with your lies and so are you with that-the cycle starts all over again
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‘‘
‘Tis the cliff that offers. “Down there is a utopia of wonders or cesspit of murder,” the pitch black abyss says. The cliff is maybe a shallow pond or a bottomless pit. One way to find out; you take the leap of faith or you step back, cower, and forever wonder what beauty or horror is out there.
BY NEIL ANDREW FORMALEJO It was supposed to be a chest of pure gold for a tiny drop of sweat and blood. That’s at least what the priest told them. Don’t you be scared of that bloody witch. She may have a demon’s blood but she’s only a frail old hag. Thaedon, one of the five Guards of Steel positioned and stayed on guard. They would be raiding the house of an old woman they called Mardúk, which literally translates to “devil” in their old tongue. She is accused of witchcraft by the high priest of The Land. These orders would make or break Thaedon’s future. If he finds success in it, Thaedon would be promoted as a Guard of the Empress. The goal is to capture Mardúk alive. Brutal and soul-crushing punishments are reserved for witches like her. Perhaps the burning stake this time, or if the high priest would fancy, being flayed alive or ripped open. They danced around the house and looked for potential dangers. There is not a single thing that looks menacing or something that poses a threat. Although the high priest assured them to set aside their worry, he has also reminded them to have an immense presence of mind because they’d never know what lurks in the corners. Thaedon successfully rammed the door with a huge boulder. He felt shivers and chills as he entered. Three of the guards stayed on the perimeter of possible escape routes while there were the two of them
pursuing Mardúk. So it is true. With all those different sized cauldrons hanging, those dreaded mortar and pestle with crushed forbidden berries and endangered leaves, fetuses inside a translucent jar, and wild array of animal carcasses; it’s no mistaking that she is a witch. Follow my orders. No sudden movement. Put whatever you’re holding down, place your hand behind your back, Thaedon shouted. Mardúk continued stirring that cauldron with suspicious green liquid while she wrote things in her journal. “This would all be done in a moment. Why all the fuss and the need to use all this force, I’m just an old defenseless bitch. No one has believed me for what I’m doing and saying. Mark my words, time will come and they’d see. All those scoundrels would see the ignorance in themselves. Time will tell.” She told Thaedon with half an insult in her tone. Ever since a deadly disease flourished in The Land, unrest has sparked. The people are scared and anxious. The congregation of the church has started a mass cleansing for the “sinners of The Land’’ because it is deemed that God is punishing them. It could range from simple prayer rituals to brutal methods that include whipping of cilice as “penance for the mortal shell”, razor cutting the arms to allow the “bad blood to flow”
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or genitalia mutilation to “free the earthy desire and cleanse the flesh”. Then came Mardúk, an old widow to an intelligent devout scholar. She called all this religious “cleansing” nonsense; a rubbish antidote for a lethal toxin. She made daily rounds house to house to give advice as to what they can actually do to alleviate symptoms and stop the contagion. The knowledge she has is from the science journals of bright scholars of The Land where it was recorded that a similar disease ravaged the village half a century ago. After her husband died, she took over his journals. Birds with the same feather flock together. Just like her husband, she is naturally curious about how the world works around her. She would collect different species of plants and animals to study them and their properties. Notoriety however consumes every second of her existence. Whenever she would make rounds in the heart of the village to share all the knowledge she has acquired, she would be met by several evil eyes with disdain. They hated her guts for they thought she only spewed madness. This has culminated in her being sentenced as a witch because she “opposed God” and deludes other people with her insanity. A work of the devil they say. The priest thought that burning her would cure The Land, as they are doing a holy job of slaying a child of a demon. Don’t worry child, this is all done. Mardúk then reaches for her pocket and produces a vial
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with a vile red liquid. This alarmed Thaedon and he quickly paced towards her. It was all too late however because Mardúk has already drunk the vial to what he now realizes as poison. He rushed towards her and reached the insides of her mouth in an attempt to make her vomit. She has the strength of a cougar as she locked her jaw and pressed hard until her teeth had penetrated Thaegar’s flesh deep to his bones. He let go and cried in agony. He stares in horror as she unstoppably seizures and blood and stomach acid drips from her mouth. When she’s finally calm, she mumbles something to which Thaegar understood as, “Idiocy is the scourge of the earth.” Then she pointed towards the journals and the cauldron where she cooks. Marduk then never saw the light of day again. Bloody gods and hell. There is nothing Thaegar can do. The dream of becoming one of the Guard of the Empress is gone. He gathered the journals and the liquids produced by the
old witch as evidence. They put the dead body in a makeshift bed to bring her to the town. This is now the least they can do. The frustration was written all over his face. It was on his hand already, his greatest dream. It’s all gone. It was not in their slightest expectation that the heart of the village would be like this. When they arrive, the cathedral is burning. It has spread too quickly to nearby houses. It took Thaegar moments to realize what was happening. Several uniformed men are meditating on the streets in front of the church, while literally burning in unison. None of them was bothered as the flame consumed them. It was like, they really invited the fire to engulf them. He noticed the badges in their clothing. Ah yes, the iconic seal of laurel leaves and eagle. They are a group of scholars and philanthropists. Their self-immolation is a protest against the priests. He could never digest what he saw and could never comprehend how a human body can withstand such immense destruction. No answer came into his mind as he cannot fathom what these men are trying to
achieve. This chaos is surely not helping the village with its crises, the deadly disease. As everything blazes, the first instinct of Thaegar’s is to flee and survive. There is something stopping him however. A voice, telling him that the future of The Land is in his hands. He made up his mind. With such a quick pace, he ran as fast he could towards the eagle-shaped building where the remaining scholars of The Land reside. He has presented Mardúks journals and concoctions. The master thanked him for his service and advised him to continue his work of killing idiocy because people fear what they cannot understand. Inside the journal is the cure for the deadly malady that terrorizes the village. Detailed findings about the disease and detailed formulations of its cure were also written in the journal. Beyond the ashes and burnt bodies, lies the hope of The Land. The taste of the realization of the priests that they’re no better than a cave-man is bitter. They have since accepted their sins and are now slowly walking towards an enlightened path.
GRAPHICS AND PAGE DESIGN BY CYEN ESCLANDA
B O T T O M L E S S D E S P A I R PHOTO BY JAMES RHUZZEL SASPA 32 | ALIMANTAK
ANG DAAN BY CHAREY MAE ALVARADO
Sa harap. Ang daan patungong pangarap malapit ka na, humakbang kang muli ngunit sandali, ito nga ba ang tamang daan? o narito ka lamang upang mapagbigyan ang iyong mga magulang? Sa kaliwa. Ang daan kung saan ka malaya masikip, subalit dito mas kaya mong huminga; mas kaya mong ilantad kung sino ka pero, ang daang ito ay sarado, para sa pamilya mo
GUHIT NI BRANDON JON DELOS SANTOS DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI CYEN ESCLANDA
Sa kanan. Ang daan ng kasaganahan na pilit mong binabaybay kahit dito’y ‘di ka naman bagay Daanan ito ng mga taong masarap ang buhay mas mabuti pa siguro ay makinig ka na lang sa iyong inay “Anak, ‘di natin kaya ‘yan” Sa kabilang dako Ang daang baku-bako maraming balakid, maraming hadlang Daang ‘di mo alam kung may patutunguhan ngunit, narito ka’t handang lumaban mapudpod man ang ‘yong tsinelas walang lugar para umatras Kaya mo ‘yan, Kabataan!
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Beyond Conscious BY PATRICK JOSEPH PANAMBO
He thought his thoughts will satisfy his ending Harsh and glitch; Pain fill feels he’s wanting Little voices echoes back and forth Silence is a distraught Drowning to own voice “Be a man, boys!” Deep in dark area, Calling his own name by nonetheless Persuasive laughs tickle his cochlea A choice to be selfish or selfless Hang up or on? Ponders more question, He is true but not what people’s expecting, He only suffers and continues suffering. Letting go is not always being free, It’s caging what’s already been caged. How to live in a cornered circle? When breathing through alibis and false principles.
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GRAPHICS BY BRANDON JON DELOS SANTOS PAGE DESIGN BY CYEN ESCLANDA
GRAPHICS BY LEMMUEL PANCHA
VOICES OF THE UNHEARD BY JEAN AQUINO
Peace and serenity or loud and fun. Which environment are you in? Being alive is one of the most wonderful things one can ever experience. But how do we identify ourselves as alive? Is it when we wake up with the sunrays hitting our faces welcoming a new day in our lives? Is it when we see ourselves able to do all things without restrictions? Or is it when we stay away from everyone else and bond with ourselves instead?
In the busy streets of the city, people with different status in life are scattered everywhere. Untold stories are written behind their smiling, angry, and sad faces. From where I’m standing, a middle-aged woman, silently sitting on a bench caught my attention. She was smiling all by herself while looking up into the sky. Her eyes reflect happiness. The very first time I saw her, I knew there is something in her I needed to know. And so I did, I approached her. “Hi”, I greeted her. Taking off her look at the sky, she turned towards me. “Hello there,” she responded. “Do you need anything?” I nod my head repeatedly. “Yes. Actually I was just standing right there when I noticed you were smiling here. You really smile so bright and I feel a ‘lil envious.” Leaning on the bench, she smiles at me as she closes her eyes. By the time she opens them, she started telling me things I never knew I needed to hear. “Do you know that the way we present ourselves to people around us and how they interpret it serves as the basis on how our relationships with them will go in the long run? You know, I was smiling here because I 36 | ALIMANTAK was happy. And I’m guessing you came here because that’s what you thought I was feeling
right? Well, unfortunately, some will think I am crazy because I was smiling all by myself. Look at me, I don’t look like I’m homeless, right?” I looked at her again and that is when I realized that she is barefooted. But I stay still and listened to her as she continues to tell her story. I am an orphan. Adopted by two gay men who loved me unconditionally until they both died because of an accident. I felt like my comfort zone vanished in just a snap. Because of their relationship, I knew that the world is cruel to those who do not meet the so called standards of the society. But that does not stop me from coming out of my shell and exploring life. Because for me, life is being with my parents and waking up with them everyday and sing and dance all day. I always mistook kindness as love. For such a weird person like me, I think I am unworthy of any kind of love that exists. I’m afraid that they will take advantage of me everytime I try to be nice to any one of them. But my parents taught me that I cannot live alone here and so I needed a companion. I don’t need too much of them and what I only need is a real one. I was able to meet a lot of people, but none of them deserves to know and to be with me. And so here I am, living my own life. This is what makes me feel alive, not being controlled, not being judged, and certainly not being blamed for being me. Young people like you need to know that being alive is what makes your heart at ease. Does not matter if you do it by yourself or with someone you love. And remember that not everyone deserves to have you in their life. Independence is power. Choices exist. After that, she quietly leaves and then bid her goodbye to me.
GRAPHICS AND PAGE DESIGN BY CYEN ESCLANDA
A B S E N C E
PHOTO BY JAMES RHUZZEL SASPA
54 54 ALIMANTAK 38 || ALIMANTAK
O F
L I G H T
C H A N G E :
TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT BY RACHELLE PAJA
It happens continuously with worries of adapting getting constant change, reminiscing past while adjusting whether to embrace with all heart out or just maybe ignore it without a doubt No season is eternal; summer, winter, autumn, and fall Just like there’s no such things as permanent at all Even the ticking clock doesn’t stay as it moves to another day Row the boat of life with greatness and courage Freeing yourself in this strangling cage Just like how the water flows, life goes on Fly high and explore as if we don’t need permission We learn from our own mistakes as we go forward, have another chance to take; a cycle that we are now used to Boldly accepting the reality that we’ve been through Nothing lasts forever Take chances and never regret, never.
ALIMANTAK | 39 PAGE DESIGN BY CYEN ESCLANDA IMAGE FROM FREEPIK.COM
Hinaharap NI NYCT
“Lahat tayo ay dapat may plano.” Mga katagang paulit-ulit sa utak ko Bumubuo ng mga tanong Bakit kailangang magplano?
Maaaring magbago at maglaho ang lahat Sa isang iglap, kisapmata, o kaya’y bukas Damhin ang saya, pakawalan ang lumbay Sumabay sa agos ng buhay.
Kailangan ba talaga itong pag-isipan? Kung ang lahat ay walang kasiguraduhan Bakit kailangang katakutan? Kung pwede namang hayaan na lang.
Huwag matakot sa hinaharap Hayaan mong isulat ng tadhana ang nararapat Mabuhay ka sa kasalukuyan Upang ligaya ay maramdaman.
GUHIT NI JOY VILLASPIN DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI CYEN ESCLANDA
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GRAPHICS BY BRANDON JON DELOS SANTOS
PETER’S PICK BY KENN DANIEL MONTECILLO
It was 7 a.m. and Mrs. Velasquez’s class has begun. She asked first for an assignment check before beginning the lesson. It took ten minutes, and almost everyone had finished passing their notes to be checked, but Peter didn’t seem to mind approaching the teacher’s table. Mrs. Velasquez noticed who didn’t pass the assignment and her gaze was drawn to the last row on the left side of the room, where Peter was seated. Peter’s attention was quickly drawn to her, and she motions for him to rush to her desk. When asked why he didn’t complete his assignment, Peter replied honestly that he didn’t finish it due to power outage last night. “Since you were unable to complete your work, I would have to request that you either clean the room after class or select a piece of paper from this box where
alternative punishments are written.” Mrs. Velasquez stated. Peter, on the other hand, opted to clean the room without hesitation. The class is over, and Peter must now pay his consequences. He managed to sweep the floor, wipe the board, and arrange the seats in an hour. He was now making his way to the back of the room, where Mrs. Velasquez’s table was. He began by cleaning the table with a clean, damp cloth and then organized the textbooks on it. Peter, however, sneaked into the box of rolled papers and draw as the unattended Mrs. Velasquez roamed outside the room. He unwrapped each rolled paper one at a time and was shocked by what was written on them. “Please notify me in advance if you are unable to complete the assigned tasks. Power outages are common these days, so here’s a power bank for you.“ In astonishment, Peter sought to recognize Mrs. Velasquez’s entrance into the room, where he was caught reading all the wrapped papers, all of which had only one statement written on them. “Uncertainty trapped people in fear most of the time, which is why most possibilities were missed,” Mrs. Velasquez said as she re-rolled the papers and replaced them in the boxes.
GRAPHICS AND PAGE DESIGN BY CYEN ESCLANDA
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ALAS TRES NA PALA, ALAS TRES NA NAMAN NI MAUREEN SAN LORENZO
Nalunod na naman sa lalim nang agos ng isipan. Mga tanong na walang hinto sa pagdaloy, ngunit ‘di pa rin mahanap mga kasagutan Saan patungo? Mayroon bang patutunguhan? Kung mga pangyayari’y tapos nang humadlang, sana’y mapunan na ang mga patlang. Pinipilit intindihing ang buhay ay kasing lawak ng gabing madilim Datapwat hinihiling na kahit minsa’y maramdaman ang mapayapang lilim Nakaupo, nakahiga, at hindi mapakali Mga luha’y walang tigil, kahit ‘di alam anong mali. Saan ba magsisimula? Sa kawalan ay nakatulala. Saan ba magsisimula? Dito ba kung sa’n nakahiga? Ang tahimik na mundo sa alas tres ay gayuma. Nakakaadik subalit kasunod ang pangamba. Sumabay sa agos at ipikit ang mata Alas tres na naman, magpahinga ka na.
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SPIN RISTIAN ILLA OY V INA NI CH J I N H IT GUH O NG PA H DEBU
NIT REGA
NI EARL DWIGHT SERRADO Sa katahawan nin katubigan, hararom, gari mahigop dae magpakanigong takot an nahandal pirming nag-aandam, na sarong madistrosong nilalang an garo ciertong mahalon, arahit pati inulnan mientras hulit kan mga ini, sa irarom kan libtong digdi, may minaawit daang Magindara katoninongan ngaya an dara-dara, mantang pagkahandal nagrarara ta sa pagrurip ko baka masiba dae nanggad makauli, sa harong na duman ako midbid nakatùdan na magtinir padalaganon an buhay digdi sa kun sain yaon an sakong mga midbid digdi na kuminamang
an pagtalubo kan sakong mga ugat nagpadakula kan sakuyang utak kaya, ako nanggad nahahandal na sinda sakong talikdan mantang muya kong makaduman, sa huna-hunang paradisong may kayang iatang na kaogmahan, sa buhay mataong kagianan tibaad sa libtong na ini, an buhay na sakong mamùtan magdanay ning daeng kasagkoran kaya kun ako mahapot saindo, sa pampang kun sain ‘ko nakatindog, mantang narapas an makusog na alon dara an maitom na panganuron ika malubto asin rururipon an irarom, o mapuli sa midbid mong harong?
SPIN JOY VILLA
‘‘
METAMORPHOSIS Hanggang isang araw, namukadkad ang kinukubling balat. Sa ilalim nito ay ang bagong anyo na ikinagagalak ng iyong buong pagkatao.
A
The Aftermath
fter the news erupted about the war, I could no longer see what future holds for me. Would I still have a family of my own? I don’t know. It should not be possible, especially now that I am already in marrying age and this war could end when I am already too old for that. I wasn’t able to finish my studies when my parents are still alive. I could not, if that’s the right term to use. I was crippled by this poverty that just happened to be inherited by my parents and was just passed on to me-- an eternally painful cycle that I pretend to pray, to break free from someday. I whined and begged for them to support my studies, but “we don’t have money” is the only response I get during all those times I have asked for it. They laughed at my dreams while they lend their money to everyone, until we can’t buy even a single coal briquette in a cold night. They were too scared to dream and not even attempt to make a step to leave that borderline, that they even dragged me with them until this war happened. I was once a dreamer, turned into a burden. I am just following their steps. I am the aftermath of their continuous mockery on my dreams; the byproduct of their doubts and wrongly set priorities. I know I am just a babe compared to what they think they have, which is age-stricken minds. I’ll just sit here and be contented with what they can offer for me and rot when they are gone. I could say that we have a somewhat decent living since I can still get new clothes every Sunday when my mother comes back after attending a morning mass. They bought me a 48 | ALIMANTAK
BY JHEZYLLE FAYE LORIA
mobile phone that is worth six thousand pesos and not bat an eye and still won’t pay that much for my studies. But then, as their deaths came, I was able to realize something. I have to step-up on this game. I won’t stay as a babe in the woods forever or else nature will do its duty that would eventually kill me, more likely from starvation. Sadly, the war happened. To make things worse, nothing was left for me, even an education that I can hold on to, to help me find a job to sustain my monthly dues. I wanted to give up for the second time. Can’t I just kill myself? No…no…I have lived in poverty my entire life. I can’t just escape it and not witness the end of this. As for now, I have to focus on my threesquare meals daily. I haven’t found a job yet. Any suggestions? By the way, I don’t have any talent that could be my source of income, which makes it more challenging to earn for my needs. I could still remember the day the news were released through our radio. The sound that came out were slightly muffled yet surprisingly, I was able to understand the news. It wasn’t that complicated at all, it was just simply about a declaration of war of our neighboring countries against us. I was busily preparing food for my mother’s wake that time. Almost everyone hastily left our house right after the announcement, except Linda, my five-year old cousin,
who later on died after a bullet hit her neck while we were fleeing from the foreign troops that has already penetrated our area. It was gushing with crimson blood even after her eyes went still. I knew I had to control my emotions. I could not afford to waste time and cry for her cold corpse and die next to her, so I moved immediately and looked for a hiding place. I have to survive no matter what, I have dreams I still need to fulfill. That’s why I need to stay alive. I cried hard after that, not only because of Linda, but because I don’t know what to do. Thinking about surviving this horrid war makes me feel hopeful and find it funny at the same time. Would you still genuinely feel hopeful amidst a war between your country and four neighboring ones? If your still answer is still yes, then allow me to enlighten you a bit. Since you can’t see what kind of war we are facing today, let me just give a short description. Everything is in chaos. I can’t see any sign of hope anymore. You’ll just wake up every day and expect pungent smell of gunpowder, watch gray-colored skies, and hear awful cries in every corner. I have not dreamed to witness this scenario aside from the movies that I have watched in the past. The war just began three days ago, but the government’s support could no longer reach us. Maybe the rich ones could still hold on for a few months with their money, but for us who are unemployed, living from day to day is a struggle. I envy them. War: Day 155 I could only just try to reminisce the days before this war five months ago. It is slowly turning into a faint memory. The hopelessness I have felt during the first three days were incomparable to what it is currently. No electricity. No potable drinking water, just the muddy ones we get from nearby rivers. I was able to find companions that helped me survive this nightmare 50 | ALIMANTAK
for the past four and a half months. There were MREs in the first weeks but that wasn’t enough to sustain us for five months, we moved from the vacated building after one month and decided to find somewhere more isolated from the chaos. We went hiding into a forest, away from the center of the war but away from the help as well. We had to choose between our lives and somewhat decent food. Obviously, we chose our lives. Although I grew up in poverty, I wasn’t able to witness the way people live in the forests since our family lived in the middle of the city. A perfect description to it is, it is a dilapidated shack with some galvanized roof in some parts of the wall to hide termite infested walls. After the war: Day 500 The reconstruction has begun already. The war ended after three long years. To make the long story short, someone finally helped us. Surprisingly, I am still alive. I took few jobs and was able to save up to pay for my studies. The things I used to buy whenever I have money aren’t in my priority list anymore. The war removed the dead skin that has been clinging on to me, the doubts, the fear of failing and the recklessness gifted by my youth. I have come to realize that poverty wasn’t the only issue in my part, I could have come up with a better solution to support my studies rather that sit and wait for my parents to send me to school with their money. As we grow old, we realize that there more things that we need than the basic necessities we were able to get easily from our parents. There is beyond that every simple thing we get. GRAPHICS BY ROSE CLAVANO PAGE DESIGN BY DARWIN ESCARO
PHOTO BY CHAREY MAE ALVARADO
S I L I P
S A
P A G K A B A T A
Limbo BY NORENE CANTOR
Where I’d rather be Is inside the shell of a vacuum-No clamor, nor tranquility; No awaited strength as iridium. Countless times I tried to just be-Existent, sentient, loved, and loving; But the luminescence I tried to see Is rather illusory than blinding.
How I’d rather grow Is to be trapped in a black hole Encapsulated, transported down low-To be devoid of body and soul. What I’d rather be-What I’d rather turn into Is black ash ground finely; Hoping nihil isn’t just a humanistic tattoo.
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GUHIT NI ROSE CLAVANO DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI DARWIN ESCARO
Ikatlong Mukha ng Barya
Ni KENN DANIEL MONTECILLO
Sa maingay na mundo, pinili nilang tumahimik, Hindi sumasalungat ngunit hindi rin tumatangkilik. Sa saliw ng katahimikan sila’y humihimlay, Hindi kung kaninong panig basta-basta sumasakay Ayaw nila sa bughaw, at mas lalo sa dilaw Kanilang pulso’y hindi sa mga mata ng madla ay malinaw Hindi alam kung hindi, at hindi rin tiyak kung oo Mukha ng pera ay ginawa nilang tatlo. Sa paniniwalang ang katahimikan ay kapayapaan, Nabibilanggo ang reyalidad sa palad ng gahaman. Sa hindi pag-imik ay espasyo ang nabibigay Puwang kung saan dahas ang nagiging ingay Nang lumaon sila ay tumayo’t tumindig GUHIT NI DINALYN REÑON DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI DARWIN ESCARO
Kinayang gumalaw at ibuka ang bibig Iilang kataga, ngunit sapat lang na maiwika “Hindi na! Tama na! Wakasan na!” Silang dating mga nagtutulog-tulogan, Ang ngayo’y lumalakad upang wakasan, Mga pagmamalupit, dahas, at karahasan, Pilit na tutuldulkan ng nagkakaisang Juan. Hindi kamay na bakal ang muling hahawak sa lupang tinubuan Ni hindi maging ang tagapagmana na dahas din ang nalalaman Una’t huling bangungot na ito dulot ng mga payaso Dahil nagigising na ang diwa ngALIMANTAK mga tao. | 53
R E S T
PHOTO BY PATRICK JOSEPH PANAMBO
To shore Mind soars To steady land Rid of cursed sea
Of ages hence A breath hath left Down arid desert sands; Blood hath pooled these primal stains
Thy light that leads true north By day, a steady rythmic strike A leap to effervecent warmth Ancient dunes in white sand shore
Eerie silence somewhere east Adrift in retrospect Farther from thy reigns Web of lies ensnare in chains
Knees threatened to buckle There a crowd awaits An eruption of good natured chuckle Another spoke of words, all in awe and wonder
‘T was always a vessel Tossed in the mercy of rising tides In time of threats upturn— Ghastly pale, a stomach churn Though the waves rage And deafening thunder roars A tremble of hands; Ones that held a pair of oars
Multitudes of failures forgiven Crumple, unconcerned of presentation A heart renewed of pure character Man kneels, to Lord
METAMORPHOSE By MARIE JUVY LEA VIOLETA
PAGE DESIGN BY DARWIN ESCARO IMAGE FROM DRIBBBLE.COM
ALIMANTAK | 55
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GRAPHICS BY CYEN ESCLANDA
New Dawn
BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
It’s been a coon’s age since the world lulls my voice. Can’t hear anything, but only a demon insides that yelps and annoys. Help Me! It’s in my head, that has to shut at one point. I can’t move, I need to flee, scared of people’s demand of what they want me to be. Symphony of screams echoing inside me “Do it, do it, do it,” But I can’t. Now here I am, still waiting. Stuck on the verge of nothing. Stay away for so long. Behold, this is the start of new dawn.
Then started to ask myself, couldn’t figure out things in this shelf. Became a rotten book - an old fantasy book that needs to be cleaned and looked ‘Til the day that someone came. Aided me to reach out from this mundane. Helped slaughtered the monster and spread the wings of untamed. Indeed, it was the start of the day. Butterflies, rainbows that I couldn’t explain. Somehow, I feel great and certain. Now, I’m alone again. Still, I chose to stand, raise my head, and ready to paint the hue in my hand.
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GRAPHIICS AND PAGE DESIGN BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
RED EMP T ION BY JAMES RHUZZEL SASPA
I feel nothing inside. A part of me wants to go away and hide. I used to have a strong desire to do something. Right now, all I do is nothing. Where did it go? All I know is I am tired of my workflow I am scared to deal with anyone. I simply do not want to work on another one. I’m yearning for the energy I used to have My desired life is but a few steps away
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It may seem a long way to go But it’s a path I’ve chosen to stay Feeling good even though it’s shot in the dark Hoping to rekindle the spark Uncertain of what has changed Is it just me or are we on the same page? Soon, I am going to figure out Of what I would be doing, no doubt Surely, it would drive me to greater heights As I would be on the brightest light.
IMAGE FROM DRIBBBLE.COM PAGE DESIGN BY DARWIN ESCARO
GRAPHICS BY CHRISTIAN REGANIT
By MAUREEN, EWENEJA, AND ALEXIS “Are we going to do this?” the voice asked. “Yes,” Joy replied coldly. “Let’s call mom first; this is wrong,” the voice of the girl insisted, trying to stop Joy with her plan. “Wrong? Nothing feels right anymore, and for sure, she will not listen.” “What if she did? Let’s just---” “Fine! I’ll call her, my head hurts so shut up,” Joy shouted and dialed her mother’s number. After four rings, her mom answered. “What is it, Joy? If you will say you are sad again, then just talk to your friends there. It is 11:00 pm here, and I am at work. You know how strict my boss here in the States, let’s just talk later,” her mom ended the call without even hearing Joy’s voice. “I just want you to save me, Mom,” the phone dropped, and her tears fell. Joy wiped her tears and kicked the phone. “Sometimes, later becomes never,” she murmured while looking at the phone. “You will be okay, it is just today,” the voice comforted her. “I cannot take it anymore. I’m sorry,” Joy voiced out. After 30 minutes of preparation, everything was all set, and the room was full of red decorations. The time was 11:31 pm, the silence was deafening, and the only thing Joy could hear was the sound of her clock. She turned the camera on and started to record herself. ALIMANTAK | 61
“Hi, Mom! It’s your beautiful only child, Nene Joyie. I miss you calling me using that nickname,” her eyes started to become teary. “It’s been three years since you worked there in the U.S, and yes, it helped us financially. We have a house now, I can get what I want, and everything that requires money seems easy to get,” she stopped and smiled bitterly. “But Mom, why am I unhappy?” she paused, and tears started falling. “We thought that if you go abroad it will be the solution, but why does it feel like a problem? Why do I have to suffer like this? Why me? I want to tell you everything, but time won’t allow us, so I have to do it this way. At least before I end this tormenting life, you will be able to know the things I’ve never spoken, and of all people, at least you, Mom,” she smiled genuinely at the camera. “You left me with Dad at the age of 15, and a year after, that’s when the hellish things started,” she grabs the blade on the table, and the genuine smile turned to be a grin. “I’m sorry that I have to do it this way while I’m going to tell you everything, Mom. This will give me happiness, and seeing my blood feels nice,” she started cutting the skin of her wrist, and the blood started to flow. she just stared at the camera inside the quiet room. Joy continued zoning out while listening to the voice inside her head. The ticking of the clock filled the whole room, but suddenly, the door opened. His Dad appeared, and the intoxication was visible on his face. “He’s here.” Joy smiled.
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Her father came to her to kiss her, and Joy stood up. She let him do what he wanted. “Remissy, I love you,” his father whispered. Joy got goosebumps with his voice, and with her eyes wide open, she slowly pulled out the gun hidden at her back. Joy pushed his father, and he fell to the floor. “I am not Remissy! I am not Mom!” she shouted and shot his father twice in the head. The blood flowed on the floor, and Joy stared at his father’s dead body. “What have you done, Joy? This is not what you want,” the voice asked. “No! I must be happy, I killed him, I already killed him! Did you see it, Mom?” Joy laughed like a lunatic, and cried again. She sat on the floor beside his father’s dead body. “Why am I unhappy? Why can’t I be happy? Maybe, this life is meant for me,” she muttered. She looked at the clock and it was 11:59 pm. She stood up and stepped on the chair. Joy held the rope hanging in front of her that she prepared a while ago. She stared at the camera and started her message. “I loved all of you, and at some moments in my life, I thanked God for giving me you two as my parents. Let’s just accept the fact that our family is like the rain on a sunny day, too sad for a happy life. I hope you can build a new family, Mom, but I want you to build a happy one. Listen to your children, give them time, show them love, and understand them. I hope you can forgive me, Mom, for killing Dad and killing myself. In case you have forgotten, it is my birthday,” she made a miserable smile. “It’s 12 am, let’s rest,” the voice inside her head said. “Happy 18th Birthday, Joy.” she said and hanged herself.
IMAGE FROM DRIBBBLE.COM PAGE DESIGN BY DARWIN ESCARO
Tatlong Yugto NI AILA JOY ESPERIDA
Kahapon. Iyak mo ang bumalot sa nagkakagulong kwarto Mamasa-masang mga mata ang nakatunghay sa pagdating mo ‘Di mawari ang tuwa sa kanilang mga puso Isang anghel ang binigay bilang regalo. Bawat araw ay walang kalungkutan Binalot mo ng halakhak ang dati’y madilim na kabahayan Pinintahan at hinaluan ng kulay Yan ang dulot mo sa kanilang buhay. Ngayon. Hindi mabilang ang taong lumipas Ang ngiti sa labi ay tuluyan nang kumupas Napalitan ng nakabibinging katahimikan Ang pasilyong dati’y puno ng tawanan.
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Hindi ka na makilala. Para bang hindi kailanman nagsama Hindi malaman kung saan nagkulang Wala ring maisip na dahilan. Ang dating gatas na nasa iyong mga labi Napalitan ng nakamamatay na yosi Napuno rin ng kakaibang guhit ang iyong katawan “Ano ang nangyari sa iyo?”, tanong sa isipan. Marahil dala lamang ng hirap ng buhay Mga problemang kinakain ang iyong himaymay Lungkot na hindi maiwasan Mga luhang walang katapusan. Kayanin mo ang lahat Magpatuloy at lumaban Gagabayan ka ng iyong mga mahal Magtiwala upang maging malaya. Bukas. Panibagong araw, panibagong pagkakataon Harapin ito nang may determinasyon Wala mang kasiguraduhan Ang mahalaga’y iyong sinubukan. Piliing maging masaya Kahit sa gitna ng problema. Laging tandaan, Hindi pa tapos ang laban Laging bumangon matapos madapa Hangga’t may bukas, may pag-asa.
LARAWAN MULA SA DRIBBBLE.COM DEBUHO NG PAHINA NI DARWIN ESCARO
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EDITORIAL BOARD AND STAFF Norene Cantor Editor-in-Chief Kenn Daniel Montecillo Associate Editor Charey Mae Alvarado Managing Editor Neil Andrew Formalejo Deputy Managing Editor/ Circulation Manager John Paul Borito Senior Editor Jonna Mae Bagasbas Sports Editor Trisha Bañas Rose Ann Clavano Darwin Escaro Dinalyn Reñon Jhezylle Faye Loria Rachelle Paja Apprentices Cyen Esclanda 2021 Concept Design Taki Redesign 66 | ALIMANTAK
Patrick Joseph Panambo Features & Literary Editor Brandon Jon De Los Santos Creative Director Cyen Esclanda Design Director Christian Reganit Web Manager Berlineth Nymia Montes News Editor Earl Dwight Serrado Broadcasting Head Jean Aquino Jonas Corporal Marie Juvy Lea Violeta Aila Joy Esperida Khiana N. Sto. Domingo Lemmuel Pancha Janah Carmela Ng Sang Kyra Fermel Victoria James Rhuzzel Saspa Contributors Mary Allysa Jenica Sariba Technical Adviser
EPILOGUE
Balance might have been invented after a series of trade-offs. Eventually, what we find aesthetically pleasing is grounded on becoming accustomed to events we seek after another--as if anticipating for the past to serve us again what we crave after a long walk in the future. But what decorates space is a moment; what defines time is a choice. What rips the tides is their own rage.