The Ocean Knows What We’ve Lost

As I watched a group of high school students playing beach volleyball—laughing, shouting, and brimming with energy—I sat quietly by the shore and couldn’t help but wonder: where did the optimism of my youth go? Why is it that as we grow older, we begin to let go of so many things, instead of pushing harder to make them happen the way we once dreamed? Why do we so easily allow life to steer us off course?

When I was little, I saw adults as people who simply didn’t want to try harder. They seemed easily content, sometimes defeated, as if they had already surrendered to the way life treated them. Back then, I thought they were lazy. 

Now I realize it’s not that simple.

Happiness is Something Fleeting

As a woman in my early 30s living in a relentless metropolis where the pressure to keep evolving never stops, I understand better. Happiness is fleeting. Sometimes it lasts only a few seconds, sometimes longer, but never long enough to resemble the fairy tale promise of “happily ever after.” In the end, life has a way of disappointing us more often than not. And yet, we keep going, carrying that 'wisdom' with us.

I sit here in Pangandaran, gazing out at the vast southern ocean stretched before my eyes. Since yesterday, the rain hasn’t stopped dripping, keeping me under the roof and away from the open air I longed for. 

The quiet here makes me reflective, but it also sharpens my awareness of what’s happening beyond this small corner of the coast. Because while I sit here listening to the rain and waves, Jakarta is restless. Demonstrations have erupted, and riots flare up in different corners of the city, an embodiment of the people’s anger toward their so-called representatives. 

The contrast feels jarring: here I am searching for peace, while the capital burns with discontent. And I realize that maybe the sense of disappointment I feel in my own life is not so different from what people are expressing on the streets.

The Staggering Number

Just a few weeks ago, news broke of the allowances received by members of the DPR (the Indonesian House of Representatives), a figure that exceeds 100 million rupiah per month. The number is staggering, not only because the minimum wage in Jakarta is just Rp5,396,760 (and in some regions as low as two million rupiah), but also because of the sheer lack of empathy reflected in the officials’ responses. 

For instance, Ahmad Sahroni, Deputy Chair of Commission III from the NasDem Party, provoked criticism. During a visit to the North Sumatra Regional Police on August 22, 2025, he addressed public calls for dissolving the DPR with sharp words:

“The mentality of people who say that is the dumbest mentality in the world. Mark my words—anyone who thinks like that is the dumbest person alive.”

Such language, coming from a public official, deepened the sense that dialogue between power and the people has grown increasingly combative rather than constructive.

Detached Logic

Adding to the controversy, Golkar Party politician and Deputy Speaker of the DPR, Adies Kadir, defended the Rp50 million monthly housing allowance as “reasonable.” He claimed that if a boarding room costs Rp3 million per day, multiplied by 26 workdays, the total would reach Rp78 million—implying that lawmakers were still at a loss with only Rp50 million.

The reasoning was widely mocked. Influencer Jerome Polin even quipped, “If it’s Rp3 million a day, that’s not a boarding room, that’s a five-star hotel, sir.” 

Though Adies later admitted to misspeaking, public frustration had already solidified. To many, the remark exemplified the widening disconnect between officials and the economic realities of those they serve.

It was also another reminder that hope can be crushed not just by life itself, but by the very leaders meant to carry it.

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Well... In both personal and political life, it seems, disappointment never RSVPs, but it always shows up at the table.

Batukaras, August 31, 2025