TAMBULI
Ang pampanitikang-aklat ng THE STENTORIAN, ang opisyal na pahayagan ng mga estudyante ng Kolehiyo ng Inhinyeriya at Teknolohiya ng Tarlac State University, Tarlac City. Reserbado ang lahat ng karapatan © 2019
Inimprenta ng: Printure Enterprise Brgy. San Vicente, Tarlac City
THE STENTORIAN
Magsulat. Mag-ulat. Magmulat
Tungkol sa Pabalat Ang mga namamatay at nabubuhay nabubuo at nawawasak sumusuko at lumalaban ay palaging may pinagpipilian. Ano ba ang nasa pagitan? Pag-asa.
Pabalat: RenzRenz Anthony SALCEDO and Ian AGLIAM Pabalat nina Anthony SALCEDO at Ian AGLIAM Chapter Stories:Mga Yenakwentong Barbettekabanata CABALUni| Graphics: RenzCABALU Anthony SALCEDO Yena Barbette
Napakagandang pagmasdan nitong alapaap na kung saan siya’y nag sisilbing hudyat ng muling pagsikat. Marami sa’tin ang nakakaranas ng kalungkutan na nauuwi sa kasadlakan sa buhay. Minsan animo’y isang bulaklak na lanta’t walang ganda. Hindi rin maiiwasan sa kanya-kanyang buhay, na tayo ay darating sa pagbagsak sa kinakatayuan na magbibigay katanungan sa ating mga isipan. "Bakit ang hirap bumangon?", katanungan na kung saan aking ihahalintulad sa buhay ko ngayon. Hindi natin makakamit ang rurok ng tagumpay kung hindi natin ito pagsusumikapan. Alam natin na ang bawat araw sa buhay ay isang labanan na kung saan ito’y nangangailangan ng lakas, tibay ng loob at pananampalataya. "Ang taong duwag, talo kahit saan" katagang aking iuugnay sa publikasyong ang nais ay ang mamahayag ng konkretong balita para sa mga estudyante, sila’y nananatiling matibay sa kahit anong dagok na dumating sa kanilang araw. Sa kabila ng napakaraming unos na dumating, pilit pa rin silang tumayo at manindigan. Kaya sabay-sabay nilang binuhay muli ang pamilya na naglalayong maglatag ng solidong impormasyon para sa lahat. Ngayong taon inihahandog ng Stentorian ang isang natatanging likha na kung saan magpapakita ng pag-asa sa buhay at sa kanya-kanyang larangan. Magsisilbi itong inspirasyon sa bagong umagang darating, at sisikat muli itong liwanag sa muling pagkabuhay.
KARL JOSH M. GUILLERMO EDITOR IN CHIEF
Talaan ng Nilalaman Kabanata
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CHAPTER 1: emil I watch the movements of the people as I wear my suit. Everyone is busy preparing themselves, keeping things they'll be needing, and taking pictures with her. She's so lovely. I could stare at her all day, even if she won't talk. A boy noticed me standing in a corner so he approached me with a big smile and handed her a handkerchief which for sure will be soaking wet after a while. He gave me a reassuring smile before running back to her mother who in turn gave me a meaningful look. I diverted my gaze to her, and to my surprise, she's no longer surrounded by people, so I immediately went to her. I greeted her a good morning and handed her three daisies - her favorite flower. Tears fell down my cheek when I kissed her on her forehead. She did not say anything, but I know how happy she was. Meanwhile, four men came and assisted her in her car. My eyes felt heavier. "Are you ready?" Mom asked. I couldn't answer. Am I ready? Everyone followed the white car decorated with daisies and white balloons. Everyone started to cry. Everyone started to grieve. I am not yet ready to send her to heaven, but I followed anyway. My mom gave me her picture in a frame, and I couldn't help to rest my head on it while walking. I can hear different voices weeping all together, but mine is silent. I can't hear my own voice when I'm the one with the loudest cry. I don't want this funeral to end, but it needed. "It's going to be okay," Mom patted my shoulder. I looked at her with disbelief, "I know that her wings were ready, but my heart was not." A few more tears dropped. She didn't say anything anymore, instead, her arms were wrapped around me to keep my balance and faith steady. All her loved ones prepared their eulogy. One by one, they told everything in the church. Everyone was able to witness her life which was told by her parents, siblings, and relatives. But the part of her life I've witnessed alone, it remained unspoken. Even if it was the reason why she died. They all grieve for her death, but not for her life. So, through this eulogy, I would like to tell her story no one ever heard of before.
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Graphics by:
Renz Anthony SALCEDO
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Sepulturero Rhexter S. QUIANI
S’ya ‘yung babaeng nakita ko noong isang linggo kasama ang tatlo niyang mga kaibigan. Sa wari ko’y narito sila upang dalawin ang namayapang mahal sa buhay, dahil iyon lang naman ang dahilan upang magpunta dito sa tahimik at nakakatakot na lugar ang mga tao. Ngunit tila may hindi kaayaaya sa aking nakita, ang kanyang mga mata ay may mga luha na tila baga’y may nais iparating sa akin. Ang kanyang mga paa’y wari mo’y naninigas at kumakalas ‘pagkat sa tingin ko’y ayaw niyang magtungo sa kanilang destinasyon. Sa ikinilos ng dalaga at ng kanyang mga kasama, naisip ko na iba ang pakay nila sa pagpunta sa lugar na ito. Kahit na madilim ay patago ko silang minatahan. Tila may kung anong bagay ang nagsasabi sakin na sundan ko sila. Naroon ako at nagtago sa likod ng kabilang nitso kung saan naroroon sila. S’ya yung babae, nasaksihan ko siya… nasaksihan ko kung paano agawin ng tatlong lalaking kasama niya ang pagkababae ng dalaga. Mahigpit na nakahawak ang isa sa makikinis na mga braso habang ang isa nama’y tuwang-tuwa sa paghimas sa malalambot na dibdib ng babae. Ang huli naman ay nakapagitna sa mga makikinis na binti at patuloy na sumusunod sa init ng gabi. S’ya yung babaeng nakita ko noong isang linggo… nakita ko… nakita nya ako… nakatingin s’ya sakin at kitang-kita ko sa kanyang mga mata na humihingi s’ya ng tulong. S’ya yung babaeng nakita ko… nakita ko kung paano siya paslangin ng mga walang awang lalaking kasama pa lamang niya kaninang nagtungo dito. Nabalot ng misteryo ang buong gabi ng linggong iyon, at nabalot din ng takot ang mga araw ko pagkatapos ng kakila-kilabot na pangyayari. S’ya yung babaeng nakita ko noong isang linggo… sa lugar ding ito kung saan siya ngayo’y ibinabaon… kagaya ng pilit kong pagbaon sa limot sa bawat piraso ng nakaraang nasaksihan ko sa kanya noon. PULGADA IV: PIRASO 3RD PLACE, DAGLI
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Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM and Gerald Christian PUGAT
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L ament
Parchie S. GUEVARRA
Listen to the mourning Bell… Into a new dawn, hear not the hymn Within them churches and scattered creed A false fire burns in the blind man’s wake the infallible swarm with them unscathed faith Since when did the man had lost the torch On a quest to own the fleeting gold And in them arose the crowning sun But veiled by grey clouds and looming storms
You’ll suffer the night of shivering songs You’ll never fill full thy bottomless hole For man discerned not life as whole And wants that which to the mind’s unknown Life’s a paradox, a riddle indeed Of calm and chaos, and all must yield A puzzle that none can ever complete A glorious morbid masterpiece Listen to the mourning bell Before the slumber, heed him well
And so, them wandered the pathless land With greed, them seek mercy from what’s done Listen to the mourning bell The dead walks the present but dwells in the past That longs to sing no more.. A fool in a labyrinth, Hope’s at dusk Knell. Let roam, let ramble, let madness be Unchain, unleash such insanity Here be the dark, the harbinger comes Impending curse of the scarlet suns wrath
PULGADA IV: PIRASO
3RD PLACE, POETRY WRITING
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Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO
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LF: B rand N ew H ome Yena Barbette CABALU
Ang mga nilalang na mas mababa sa tao ay hindi raw nagtataglay ng kaluluwa kaya’t kapag yumao ay dadaan lang sa alaala. Ngunit ang mga tao kapag gumawa ng masama ay babagsak raw sa impiyerno at kapag pumapanig sa tama papapasukin ni San Pedro. Ngunit bakit ang mga nilalang doon sa katimugan nagmistulang malaking impiyerno ang paraisong sinilangan wala raw silang mga kaluluwa ngunit sila’y tila pinarusahan kahit wala sa kanilang kamalayan ang paggawa ng tama o kamalian.
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Ang mga nilalang na mas mababa sa tao hindi man nakapagsasalita’y humihingi ng saklolo baka sakaling mayroon pang kagubatang nakalaan kung saan sila’y makahihinga nang hindi nalalanghap ang abo ng kapamilya.
D ream
Genere James NOOL Sea of Fire, Land of Death Souls unrest, bodies at rest I see a vision, myself, one of those souls, Screaming, Scorching, seeking of help I wake.
Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO
Land of peace, mountains of gold Souls at praise, bodies at rest I see a vision, myself, one of those souls Singing, dancing, praising with other souls, I wake.
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Kuya, kahit isang piraso lang po Kurt Glexther DELA CRUZ
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PULGADA IV: PIRASO 2ND PLACE, PHOTOGRAPHY
Strings
Carl Joseph GONZALES
This predicament of uncertainty This life of hate and inequality This pain that stays indefinitely This world that we live in Imprisoned by the ways of the past Trialed if not to escort Ridiculed when gone astray Ignored when lost Time passed and things changed The walls of before are now disarranged Free are the ones who were tangled A new light shines Rejoiced are the ones once locked Free of strings and chains unlocked A new life to start anew A new life they once withdrew
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Kanta ti Pamilya Karl Josh Guillermo
Siyak ni Celso Bainti iti tawen ko Taga bario Awan kwarta iti pamilyak Agigyan kami idiay bassit nga kubo-kubo Awan kuryente na ken alikamenna Madik ammo ampay kastoy Ti klase iti panagbiag ko Narigat ti biag mi, “Isang kahig, isang tuka” Madi ka mi met lang Makapangan mamitlo iti agmalem Maysa aldaw Nagarapaapak Inggana makapalpasak Nakagradwarak ken naalak iti diplomak
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Ipangpangrunak iti panagtrabaho Ti subra nga rigat iti biag mi Nagananusak ken inggaed ko Para iti pamilyak Atoyen, Engineer akon Nakalasatak ken agsusweldo Nagsubli manen iti naganaygay Ken nasaranta nga pamilyak Iti inaldaw-aldaw Mapanpanunot ko iti kinaimbagna Inikan na kami ti Namnama nga makita Iti silnag ti init Nga mangted iti balligi kinyami
C igarettes Shirine Pearl SARRANQUIN
On this room with open doors Breath is on hold while there is plenty of Oxygen In the city, such like every person is a factory They smoke their head off through the ozone layer. What more to see in the future Zero visibility is possible Even with these electric puffs Why don’t you just suffocate yourself on your own? If you want to die early Don’t carry your surroundings on the boat.
Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM
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I t ’s a Tr ap Reister VINUYA
I was consumed By this colossal scout Hunting for wasted, impotent Pleasing to shift towards him Inhabited my entire system Within that split-second of time I was vanquished by my own stillness As if I’m depicting other victim I still got to marched On a crowded scene Making myself a mystery Forcing to maneuver those routine But after a while Bedroom’s calling again That show must go on But I know it will
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While I’m lost Insensibly, I also lost a soul I lose, even so I gradually form that tiny grip A chase to that hope To glide again Amidst of everything Ascension comes easy As I am insuscpetibles in the Notion of being an island Luckily, I was able to defy The trick of this silent killer But With Him. (an escape to depression)
Graphics by: Ian AGLIAM and Gerald PUGAT
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M unting M undo Anthony Cole Y. PALAD
Sa isang mayamang bansa ng Canada ay naroroon ang isang Half-Filipino at Half-American na si Isabela na isang Caregiver. Kanya ng ikalimang taon ditto, na kung saan ayon sa kanya ay siya ay napilitang mangibang bansa dahil sumakabilang-buhay na ang kanyang ina at mula pagkabata ay ‘di niya nakilala ang kanyang ama kaya’t ganoon na lamang siyang nakipagsapalaran upang mabuhay. Ang tanging naiwan lamang ng kanyang ina ay ang nag-iisang kwintas na may larawan nilang dalawa. Kanyang inaalagan sa Canada ang isang Amerikanong si Mr. Peter, isang Piloto na may sari-saring sakit dulot na din ng katandaan. Sa kanyang pagiging Caregiver sa loob ng limang taon si Mr. Peter lang daw ang natatangi niyang inalagan na ubod ng lupit at ‘di niya maintindihan kung bakit ‘di niya maiwan-iwan ang Amerikanong ito bukod sa nag-iisa na lamang din siya sa buhay. Kung minsan ay kinukwentuhan niya na lamang ang matanda upang hindi ito magsungit. May isang pagkakataon narin na naikwento ni Isabela ang kanyang buhay kay Mr. Peter, at pawang si Mr. Peter rin kay Isabela. Nailahad ni Isabela na mula pagkabata ay ‘di niya nakilala ang kanyang ama at di rin niya malaman kung may kapatid rin nga ba siya. Isang araw bigla na lamang sumumpong Si Mr. Peter at nag-hallucinate at ‘di malaman ni Isabela kung ano ang gagawin kaya siya na ay tumawag ng ambulansiya at itinakbo na sa ospital si Mr. Peter, halos maubos na ang luha ni Isabela sa pag-aakalang mamamatay na ang Ginoo ngunit nalagpasan ni Mr. Peter ang pangyayari. Habang binabantayan ni Isabela ang amo ay nakipagkwentuhan muna ito sa isang nars sa ospital, ngunit laking pagtataka niya sa kanyang nakita na may suot na kwintas ang nars na tulad ng mayroon siya na ibinigay ng kanyang ina, dali-dali niyang hinanap ang kwintas kung nawala niya ito o magkatulad lamang sila ng nars. Nakahinga ng malalim si Isabela nang makita ang kwintas sa loob ng kanyang bag, ngunit ang tanging bumabagabag sa kanya ay ang mga salita ng kanyang ina na “Dalawa lamang kayo ng tatay mo ang mayroon ng ganyang kwintas, kaya alagaan mo ng mabuti yan.” Kaya walang pagdadalawang isip niyang tinanong ang nars kung saan niya galing ang kanyang kwintas, ang sabi ng nars ay ibinigay iyon ng kanyang ama nang siya ay pitong taong gulang at bago siya iwan nito. Napatanong sa saarili si Isabela ng marinig ang sagot ng nars “Kung ibinigay ito ng kanyang ama, possible na ang ama niya ay ama ko rin, at magkapatid kami?” kinompronta niya ang nars at ipinakita rin ang kwintas na mayroon siya. “Kaya pala kampante ako sayo, ito ba ay lukso ng dugo?” ani Isabela. Napagkasunduan ng dalawa na hanapin ang kanilang tunay na pagkakakilanlan at magpa DNA test.
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Ilang araw ang nakalipas, oras na para malaman ang kanilang tunay na pagkakakilanlan, habang hinihintay ang resulta tinanong ni Isabela ang nars kung bakit sila naghiwalay ng kanyang ama “Hindi ko rin alam, basta alam ko iniwan niya ako sa aking tiyahin ng dahil sa kanyang trabaho.” Sagot ng nars. Habang napapahaba na ang kwentuhan biglang na ngang lumabas ang doktor sa pinto na hawak na ang resulta ng eksaminasyong nangyari. Hindi malaman ni Isabela kung anong emosyon ang kanyang mararamdaman ng marinig ang doktor na sabihing “Kayo ay 99.9% Biologically related, kayo ay magkapatid.” Habang humagulgol naman sa iyak ang kapatid. Napagkasunduan din nila na hanapin ang kanilang ama sa pamamagitan ng mga records na maaari nilang mahingi sa gobyerno. Ngunit magpapaalam pa lamang sana si Isabela sa among si Mr. Peter na siya muna ay liliban sa trabaho ay bigla namang lumala ang kalagayan ng amo, gayunpaman ay pinabantay na muna ni Isabela ang amo sa mga ibang nars sa ospital. Dalawang linggo na ang nakalilipas at wala paring makuhang impormasyon ang magkapatid, tatawagan na lamang daw sila ng ahensiya kung may makita silang impormasyon paukol sa kanilang ama. Kaya bumalik na muna si Isabela sa pag-aalaga kay Mr. Peter na lumalala ang kondisyon. Habang pinapakain ang amo, ginulat si Isabela ng kapatid nang ipaalam na mayroon na siyang alam na impormasyon sa kanilang ama. “Totoo?” sigaw ni Isabela. “Oo, ate!” pabalik na sigaw naman ng kapatid. Kumuha naman ng atensiyon ang amerikano ng mag-hallucinate na naman siya at ‘di na kinaya ang isang makinarya upang siya ay maayos kaya’t ginamitan na siya ng iba ibang makina upang masagip ang kanyang buhay, habang ginagawa ang proseso, ipinabasa na kay Isabela ng kanyang kapatid ang nakuhang impormasyon na ang kanilang ama ay si Mr. Peter Coles ng California, USA na isang piloto at may dalawang anak na sina Isabela Coles at Anthony Coles sa may-bahay niyang si Lydia Pastidio-Coles na isang Pilipino. Halos bumaha ng luha ang kwartong kinalalagyan ni Mr. Peter sa paghagulgol ng dalawang magkapatid, kanilang niyakap ng mahigpit ang kanilang matagal ng nawawalang ama. Sa huli ay nasagip din ang buhay ni Mr. Peter at nagsama-samang mamuhay ang magpapamilya.
PULGADA IV: PIRASO
3RD PLACE, MAIKLING KWENTO Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM BANHAW | 16
D ead
Leopoldo S. BALTAZAR JR. I reflect about the hues I waited for you Arcadian as the moon Begging Phanes To breathe life upon me To compel and thrust My swarthy soul Back into life
Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO and Gerald PUGAT
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E nergy C ast Shirine Pearl SARRANQUIN
7am class isn’t suspended Range of challenges doesn’t took an inch Every morning there’s a scrabble of waking up Foreseeing plenty of battles for the day Two hours of sleep, evidently at every window of theirs souls Empty stomach hurrying up What more can make them ill? Daily survival games All are profound but health taken for granted Let’s drink water And stay hydrated!
Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM and Renz Anthony SALCEDO
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A ni
Arsenio S. SANTIAGO
Araro ay sa mga braso nakasabit, bitbit ang pangarap na mailap abutin ngayon. Kasabay ng pagpatag ng mga bukirin, ang pagsaboy ng binhing nagpapakain sa nayon. ‘Gintong butil’ ang isang piraso ng palay, ngunit halaga ay naghihingalo, kinakapos. Bansang ang mga magsasakang siyang nagtanim, ay siyang walang maisasaing, naghihikahos. (para sa mga magsasakang ang hinaing ay ang maisasaing)
PULGADA IV: PIRASO
2ND PLACE, PAGSULAT NG TULA
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H ustisya
Shirine Pearl SARRANQUIN
Hustisya Lupang sinilangan Isang kilo’y pitong piso lamang Oras, dugo at pawis sa initan Tila sinasayang Sila mismong may ari sa mga isinusubo ng Sambayanan Walang makain At isinasantabi lamang ng mga mamamayan Mga nasa itaas ng parisukat Walang ginagawa upang sila’y maiangat.
Graphics by: Ian AGLIAM, Gerald PUGAT and Philipp Josh LORENZO BANHAW | 20
CHAPTER 2: MELISA I can't remember how many times I wiped the tears in my eyes when Emil started to talk. The sound of his voice in the microphone is not that clear, but his message echoed in every corner of the church. He did not tell more about how great Carmela's life was since it has been mentioned by her family. He told about a part of her life no one ever gave attention to. How she slowly died every single day, how he failed to help her survive. I was about to leave the ceremony since I was not Emil or Carmela's friend, when he started to tell everyone about a story that was hidden by that day, and no one has spoken about it ever since it happened. Including Carmela. She was dragged to the secluded part of the school, was stripped and cold water was poured to her. They did not stop no matter how loud her cries were. They covered her pleading with laughter, satisfied with how Carmela suffered that day. She was not able to attend the class and was sick for a week. She was sick and afraid that she almost lost her scholarship. But it didn't happen once. It happened almost every day. She was bullied every day. And every day, she dies. Emil was silent for a second, everyone was. A year ago, everything was different. But now that I look back, I realize that a year can do a lot to a person. Carmela killed herself because she can no longer carry on. She has suffered for only God knows how many times, and no one ever heard her pleading. Now, she's having her goodbye. But her goodbye is the most painful one because it was never said and was never explained. My laughter invaded her pleading, I stole her canoe and let her drown, and I let her die for me to feel alive. Now I know why this girl looked so familiar to me.
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Graphics by:
Renz Anthony SALCEDO
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UPLB
Yena Barbette CABALU In pursuit of a dream she followed a path that propelled her to the door of one time opportunity. And he who let her in, was able to set himself free after abducting a soul that never had known she did not just visit her death, but it made her its permanent guest.
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Graphics by:
Gemmark SICAT
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P olio Reister VINUYA
Muling nagbabalik. Muling gagapang ang tila gahaman Na papagitna sa mga suporta ng mga katawan Muling mamiminsala ng sinuman Ang epidemyang minsan nang nalumpo’t Binagtas ang ating kasaysayan.
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Graphics by:
Lenard BUGARIN and Gerald Christian PUGAT
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Pag-asa ng Kahapon, Nakamtan Ngayon Photo by: Stephen Laurence GUILLERMO
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C ure
Neil Allison N. CABILBIL
“Justine, let’s go. We’ll be late for your schedule,” mom said. My knees are rattling as she called my name downstairs. I don’t want this day to come. I just want to sleep the whole day and wake up happily tomorrow morning. I don’t want to see the man with a white gown. Never would I want to see of his tools with variety of lengths and never would I want to feel the pain as he thrust those things in my body. Today, I have an apple on my right hand believing that it will keep him away from me. But as the longer hand of the clock stroked, my feet let me go to where my mom is waiting. I just have to follow her. It’s just one of the three sessions I have to attend. It is like a bite of an ant. It hurts but I won’t die in it. Instead, it will protect me from possible Illness. I’ll just keep into my mind that this drop of liquid that will flow into my nerves will immune me from the epidemic disease that is spreading in our community. She opens the door at the back seat of the car and I sat behind her. As the car moves closer to our destination, my heart is moving down to my tummy. I am anxious. I always do the sign of the cross every time I see churches on the road. My mom is laughing as she watches me do some hysterical movements just to cancel this session. But she’s stronger than me because now she can resist. And now we are here inside the white building. The horror in my face is so palpable. I look pale. My hands are shaking. My knees are trembling. The man with a white gown is now ready to insert that sharp needle and let that antidote flow into my nerves. It’s just like a bite of an ant and this will let me be free from illness caused by mosquitoes. At last it was done. It’s just a second of pain. After six months of having that session, I felt my body rattling in pain. Cold, high fever and pieces of tiny red bumps on my skins made me stay on bed. It was a week from now since I am ill. My mother decided to take me to my doctor. I was wrong. It was then confirmed that I am not immune to what I thought I am. I have dengue. So I stayed in hospital for days. I thought that antidote is just a second of pain it will made me immune to this disease. My doctor said it was a vaccine. Until I realized it’s not just the mosquito that carried this disease. Dengue today is on bottles. This day is not the same. I felt dizzy and I always puke. Like a drained cellphone, I just want to sleep. I’m tired. My heart is moving down to my tummy. I am anxious. I always do the sign of the cross every time and pray to God for me to conquer this disease. But as the longer hand of the clock stroked I felt that I am not stronger like my mom. I bid her goodbye by dropping tears on my face. I’m Justine Mendoza, 7 year old. Horrified of the syringe that injected to me six months ago. It hurts but at last it was done. I will never feel the pain anymore.
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3RD PLACE, SHORT STORY
Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO and Gerald Christian PUGAT
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S teel
Yena Barbette CABALU
It is almost in harmony how hands tremble and how the ink creates slovenly dots. Voices are echoing not in the room but in the mind of the confused, tormented, anxious, scared, like Satan’s call for death. numbers and symbols are crammed in the screen
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waiting for a whisper amongst those who carry answers but what’s going to happen is most likely her thoughts will break her sanity or her speculations will send her somewhere between she’ll be gone, and next time there will be two zeroes after 1.
Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO and Renz Anthony SALCEDO BANHAW | 32
Carmelita Yena Barbette CABALU
Carmelita. Carmelita Fajardo. Ang pangalan ko. Sa ika-78 na kanto, sa tapat ng 7 Eleven, nakatayo ang aking tahanan. Isang matayog at makasaysayang gusali— ang Museum of Arts. Oo, nagsilbi itong tahanan sapagkat dito na ako nagtrabaho simula pa noong 1998. Ang mga ilaw sa poste ng kalsada at mga sasakyan ang nagsisilbi kong mga tala sa gabi, at sa umaga, ang kabuuan ng aking trabaho ay tumayo sa entrance at ngumiti sa mga turista’t mga bumibisita. Lagpas dalawang dekada na akong nagsisilbi sa Museo. Hindi ko na mabilang ang mga nakasalamuha kong tao, maging ang mga kwentong hindi ko sinasadyang marinig. Lalo na sa paglubog ng araw. Ang mga bisita sa Museo sa gabi ay iba sa mga bisita sa umaga. Ang mga kwento nila ay malalalim, at karamihan sa kanila, dito umiiyak. Si Sekina at Kahel, sila ang madalas magpunta rito pagsapit ng alas-syete ng gabi. Oras ng labasan ng mga estudyante. May mga gabing naka-uniporme pa si Sekina, minsan nama’y mukhang kagagaling nila sa hapunan. Sila ang paborito kong bisita. Si Sekina, walang palya ang pagbati sa akin tuwing papasok sa entrance. Si Kahel, walang humpay ang pagpuri sa akin. Pawang mahihilig sa sining ang dalawa, kaya naman ang Museo ang madalas nilang puntahan. Nasaksihan ko ang ilan sa mga pangyayari sa buhay ni Sekina at Kahel. Ilang mga bulaklak na ang iniabot ni Kahel kay Sekina, dito mismo sa entrance tuwing sila’y magkikita. Ang pag-amoy ni Sekina sa kada piraso ng mga bulaklak ay ang nagsisilbing patunay kay Kahel na nagustuhan ito ng dalaga. Dito rin madalas umiyak si Sekina tuwing nabibigo, ilang beses ko na ring nasaksihan si Kahel na ipinagbibilang ng bituin si Sekina habang naka-upo sa mataas na hagdan ng Museo. Ang bawat piraso ng sining sa lugar na ito ay naikwento na ni Kahel sa dalaga, lahat ng misteryo, pinagmulan, at makasaysayang bahagi ng mga ito sa Museo, ngunit halos araw-araw, bumabalik ang dalawa at muling inilalarawan ni Kahel kay Sekina ang mga pinta. Sapagkat si Sekina ay isang bulag.
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May mga gabing pagkatapos ihatid ni Kahel si Sekina sa kanilang tahanan ay bumabalik ito sa Museo. Madalas ay kausap niya ang direktor, minsan ang ibang mga empleyado. Isang beses ay narinig ko ang pag-uusap nila ng direktor. “Mr. Geller, ilang buwan ko na pong binabalik-balikan iyong painting na iyon, pagbigyan niyo na po akong bilhin ulit Ang Mga Mata ni Carmelita.” “Kailan ba ang operasyon ni Sekina?” “Bukas po Mr. Geller, gusto ko po sanang iyong painting ang una niyang makita sa paggising niya. Ang kwento kasi nung painting ang paborito niyang marinig, eh.” “Sige na nga, pagbibigyan na kita. Ngunit ano na lang ang ipapalit ko sa painting na iyon?” eh.”
“Makakapili rin po kayo Mr. Geller, eh gustong-gusto po talaga ni Sekina ang painting na iyon,
Ilang buwan ang nakalipas at gumising ako sa loob ng isang makabagong gusali. Sa harapan ko, si Sekina at Kahel. Inilalarawan ni Sekina kung gaano kaganda ang aking mga mata. Ang boses niya ay mala-musika, at lalong naging maaliwalas ang kanyang mukha sa kanyang bagong mga mata. Hindi na boses ni Kahel ang nangunguna sa paglalarawan ng aking mga detalye, sapagkat sa kauna-unahang pagkakataon ay hindi na niya kailangang ilarawan kay Sekina ang aking mukha. At kasabay ng pagbuhos ng luha sa mga mata ni Kahel, siya’y nagsalita. “Napakaganda mo, anak. Kagaya ni Carmelita, ang iyong ganda ay nagmumula sa iyong mga mata.” Ako si Carmelita. Carmelita Fajardo. Lagpas dalawang dekada na ang nakalipas nang ako’y ipinta ni Kahel.
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C ustomer ni P im Reister VINUYA
Tanyag si Pim sa kanilang lugar. Pero tanyag siya dahil sa di magandang imahe nito para sa karamihan. Bunsod na rin siguro ito ng trabahong mayroon siya, sabi ng iilan. Kada linggo, ayon sa kanya, hindi bababa sa sampu ang sa kanya’y dumadalaw. Siya’y pinagpipiyestahan. May paisa-isa, minsan dalawahan, pero madalas daw tatluhan. Pero sa kabila ng mga iyon, ni isa yata sa mga kalalakihan roon, di siya kinaiinggitan. Madalas, puro reklamo nga ang inaabot nito sa kanyang mga kapitbahay dahil sa malalakas na hiyaw na nagmumula sa kanyang tirahan lalo na sa tyuwing gabi. Pero may isang taong nakakaintindi sa kanya, ito si Paul. Isang araw, kinamusta niya ang kaibigang si Pim. “Pre napalaban ka yata kagabi? Kitang-kita sa mukha mo, oh” “Kaya nga pre eh, ang lalaki kasi kaya di ko mapigilang di paputukin kada isa”, sagot niya. “Sadista ka din ano? Pero bakit parang binabalik-balikan ka pa rin kahit ganoon na ang pinaggagagawa mo sa kanila?” muling tanong ni Paul. “Kahit galawin ko man sila o hindi, mukhang di sila magsasawa sa pagmumukhang ito. Kahit anong paraan ang gawin ko, susulpot at mabubuhay silang muli kung gugustuhin nila”, salaysay ni Pim. “Paano mo naman nasabi?” “Oh tignan mo, kakaputok ko lang nito kagabi, may dumalaw na namang dalawa”, sabay turo sa pagmumukha nito. “Anak ng baka, taghiyawat na naman?!!!”
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Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO
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Everyone of us fulfills a piece of a larger puzzle Ralph Laurenz SI
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PULGADA IV: PIRASO 3RD PLACE, PHOTOGRAPHY
Great Legacy Karl Josh GUILLERMO
I know I will be gone away from all of you From shadow into perfect light, But leaving a sweet legacy, That will run in state forever My heart shall hold it long in fee A good ideas that must be turned-over That can use of thy innocent mind with, A song of Hope for ministry A faith of unstained purity That showers blessing to thee He gave me beauty for delight, And made me an instrument to young I hope this final wave of me, Is a memory that sustain the melody, A pure heart of Hope and Charity And, more than this, can i ask for more? Continue my Legacy, To help and to inspire
Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO
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S trength in P rogress Shirine Pearl SARRANQUIN
River flows in a direct current, Moving forward with gentle force. Waters sparkling even with the sunset calls. The eagle soars with a puissance that is bold, Through storm clouds and more. This bird of flight cast refuge in the fissure of the mountain, While it travels daily to a hidden fountain. Just leave behind any words you heard that weren’t kind. Take those what can make you stronger.
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Graphics by:
Lenard BUGARIN
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F ighting B attles
Genere James NOOL
For years I’ve wandered, The world outside the cave Countless battles, Infinite graves As I went into battle I see a light in this cave Shining, shimmering Calling me into that place I dropped my shield, my swords Everything I have No more lefts or rights There’s no going back In this cave, I have found A labyrinth, a maze Decisions, conceptions No time for laze I fall, I slip, scratches on my knees I would die in hunger, thirst and for sleep Crying? No, a river in this cave Crying? No, just a river in this cave
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Crying? No, it’s the river in this cave Crying? Yes, it’s not the river in this cave Along my journey, in this cave so vast I wonder, I wonder When would the battle end fast? I fall, I slip, scratches on my knees When would I have, an everlasting peace? At last, I have found The end to this tunnelous cave, I have found a treasure not gold Nor silver nor bronze Exiting the cave, I have found myself anew braver, stronger Thousand times better than before I walked past the exit Seeing the battles, unended But look at me, LOOK AT ME Ready to face the battle
Graphics by:
Gerald Christian PUGAT
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T he V iew F rom M ango T ree Ronniel Carl Y. MALIT
It was a long and tiring day at the farm when I took a nap in our nipa hut after we finished harvesting palay. It was a peaceful late afternoon, and the darkness of the sky conquered the fading light of the sun, I decided to go home. As I walk through the field, I notice series of sound which made me curious that time. I followed the sound of dried leaves and led me to the mango farm of Uncle Pablo. His field was very wide, and it made me hard to trace where it is coming. I tried to refuse it, but my heart said I have to look what’s happening? So even though it was very dark, I continued to walk. It was a couple of minutes, and the sound was getting louder, I know I’m closer to it. Then it finally leads me to a mango tree where I saw Fred and Ashley. I saw what they’ve done. Fred and Ashley were together. They were lovers. They had sex. But I know it can’t be, because they have the same mother. I know I have to tell this to their mother, so I ran home and look for Marta. I finally arrived at our home and saw Marta in our backyard “Marta, Marta! I saw your children doing incest matters at Uncle Pablo’s field. “I was shocked because Marta was not angry and she was doing nothing to stop her children. I’m shouting with anger when my mom arrived. “Nathan! What the dog has done to you?” And then Marta runs towards mom with her tail wagging.
PULGADA IV: PIRASO 3RD PLACE, FLASH FICTION
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Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO
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P anauhin sa G abi Reister VINUYA
Ilang taon na rin ang naging pagsasama ng isa sa mga mga matalik kong kaibigan. Madalas kaming nagkakasundo sa mga bagay-bagay tulad ng kung saan naming puwedeng busugin ang kumakalam naming mga sikmura, inaalam kung ano nga bang mga usong kanta, mga pasyalang maari naming puntahan at sandamakmak pang bagay na pinag-iisa kaming dalawa. Isang araw, nabigla na lang ako nang niyaya niya ako sa isang mamahaling kainan na hindi naman naming trip at pinupuntahan noon. Bumili siya ng aming makakain pero ang mga ‘yon ay ‘di naman swak sa aming mga panlasa. Takang-taka nga ako kung bakit nasasarapan siya e habang ako, pinagtitiisan ang isang mangkok sa ‘king tabi. Matapos kumain, tumambay muna kami sa labas at habang naghihintay ng masasakyan ay ibinahagi niya sa akin ang isang kantang mula sa mang-aawit na pinakaayaw naming sa lahat, ayaw kasi namin ang istilo ng kanyang pag-awit. Di ko alam kung bakit pero mukhang bentang-benta sa kanya ito ngayon. Pagdating ng sasakyan, sabi niya ay pupunta kami sa pasyalang gusting-gusto namin. Ako naman itong ‘di mapakali sa sobrang saya dahil ngayon lang ulit kami makakapasyal doon ng magkasama. Ngunit, tila nasira ang araw ko ng makarating kami sa aming destinasyon. Dinala niya pala ako sa pasyalang alam na alam kong sabay pa naming kinukutya noon, na kailanma’y di tatapak ang mga paa namin sa lugar na iyon. Wala na akong nagawa at doon na kami nagpalipas ng oras. Kada linggo, ganoon ang naging sistema namin dalawa tuwing magkikita kaming muli. Paulit-ulit na lakarang, sa aking pagkakaalam ay di sumagi sa aming mga isip mga ganoong ideya. Nakakainis mang isipin pero sinasakyan ko pa rin ang mga desisyong iyon… Ayos lang sa akin na tikman ang mga pagkain kahit di pasok sa aking panlasa. Basta kasama siya. Ayos lang marindi sa tugtuging di nakapagpapasayaw sa akin.
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Basta kasama siya. Ayos lang magtiis sa pasyalang di naman kahali-halina, ang mahalaga kasama siya. Ayos lang sa akin. Sobrang ayos lang. Ayos lang, dahil sa bawat panaginip na iyon, doon na lamang siya muling bumibisita’t aking nasasaksihan, doon ko na lamang siya muling nahahagkan. At dahil sa bawat panaginip na iyon, doon na lamang muling nabubuhay at aking nakakasama ang kaibigan kong nilisan na ang mundong ito, isang taon na ang nakakaraan. Siya si m a m a.
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Buklod
Glenn Adrian REYES
PULGADA IV: PIRASO
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1ST PLACE, PHOTOGRAPHY
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CHAPTER 3: emil "Hey," I saw how her eyes were filled with surprise when she glanced the daisies in my hand. "For you," I said and handed her the flowers. She gently smelled the petals and smiled as lovely as the daisies. "Ignored your suitors again?" I asked her. "Don't have any." She said. Little did I know, she was not participating in the Valentine Celebration because no one ever dared to give her a flower or two. Reminiscing that moment made me realize that dead people receive more flowers more than when they were alive because regret is stronger than gratitude. Her funeral was filled with many people. Half of them were concerned, and the other half was curious. How did a very blessed child die at such an early age? They only know her worth now that she's gone. But who am I to say this when I was the only one who heard her stories but never able to save her? That night, she texted me before 9 o'clock. She was in her condo's rooftop. Alone, and the only person she wanted to talk to was me. "It's going to be okay," I told her many times. But it was the most stupid thing I ever said to her. It got worse every time she heard it because it will never be okay unless someone saves her. And I didn't. All I ever did was love her. I never knew that love will never be enough. Before 9 o'clock, I got her message. I thought of throwing a little surprise for her, so I bought some flowers. There was heavy traffic along the way, so I entered a shortcut in a one-way street. I was staring at the daisies I bought in Dangwa when a loud car horn caught my attention. "Hey! This is one way!" A woman barked at me. I slid down my car window and told her I was on the right way. "You should reverse your car, miss!" I told her. She persisted her way even if I told her many times that I was in a hurry. She looked drunk, but I argued. Not noticing what time it was. At 9 o'clock I came to her place. I immediately went to the rooftop, excited to hear her voice. As I walk upstairs, my phone beeped. I opened the message and all that was left with me were daisies.
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Graphics by:
Renz Anthony SALCEDO
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P leading V essel Aldrin Joshua A. GARCIA
Looking upon thy countenance I see lies, abounding wholly. Said secretly, cheated dear chance. Is this love shining upon me? Poor little heart longs a spark For it hoped upon thy words, Words she once promised and spoke For the heart, now grieves a mercy burst. Is this love shining upon me? For thy promises cast a shadow. Hidden lies now revealed. It’s a love not until tomorrow. Both our hearts torn into pieces Evenly shattered, offered undone. We cheated chance, stole memories Heart can’t rest, please understand. Love, shine upon me or else, Forbid this heart from loving Quench oh thirsty soul in mercy Make room, chant healing. Be free.
PULGADA IV: PIRASO
2ND PLACE, POETRY WRITING 51 | BANHAW
Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM and Renz Anthony SALCEDO
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D alawang P alapag Reister VINUYA
Tinitingala siya ng mala-laksang nilalang na kanyang iniirog Mula nang sya’y tumapak sa templo ng pinakamakapangyarihan Sa kada ulong naghihikahos, sa takdang oras ito’y dinudumog Sa kariktang mapanghalina nito’y tiyak kay sarap pamugaran Ako’y bahagi naman ng lipon ng sa kanya’y tumitingala’t pinagdarasal Mula ako sa bulwagan ng madla ng matutuwid pati’t mga hangal Ang pag-usbong kong muli rito ay dulot ng kanyang pagsugal Sa bawat pintig sa ‘king dibdib, dama ko lantay niyang pagmamahal Mga palapag ng daigdig para sa’kin – kapatagan at kalangitan Si kuya ang sa ikalawa, ikalawa ko na sa ibaba Ang muling pagdaloy ng aking dugo ay kahulugan ng kanyang paglisan Dahil ang pusong nagbigay buhay sa kanya, ngayo’y puso ko na.
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Graphics by:
Cristina Mae AGUSTIN
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Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM and Gerald Christian PUGAT
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6 a.m. Note Leopoldo S. BALTAZAR JR.
As i close the treatise Of my senescent life An abyss beauty Lies a wounded work of art Yearning solace As i finally let go Camouflaged by insecurities I sculpt a novel path Drafting a new chapter Never will unlearn my map A difficult atmosphere Of revamp Lately vanished away And finally, My soul felt free
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B ottom U p Mary Rose T. ARELLANO 6
His knee is bouncing up and down. The universe’s biggest question is on his friend’s ear of course! That mighty phone. Even his clenched fists are too much to bear. After going off a little while ago, he feels like the phone is grinning cheekily at him right now. From a distance, his friend responds to whoever he is talking to over the line; and he knows, that there will be a new person after this, as this very phone call as a kick start. The sort of news it is delivering after all might scar his friend for life, or help save his thriving butt. But he’d cross the bridge when he gets there. Patience is a virtue. He has to keep his nerves in check and his eyes focused. His friend’s face isn’t scrunching up, or frowning. If anything, it is free of any worry. Still, though— —he is waiting for a reaction. He soon might write a eulogy one more time. 5
He couldn’t feel his limbs. Not from cold feet or anxiety. He just couldn’t feel himself. All those nights, he spent writing a eulogy; and in a flash, the crowd had devoured it. It was like the only thing that had kept him going. It gave him a purpose, and now he was astray. There was a war raging behind his eyelids, he blinked them away; and he continued to do so, because breathing fuels the war. He then swallowed the lump in his throat. Perhaps there was only forwards. Perhaps by force. Whatever, one more. 4
Diffused inks were scattered about the pages. He almost laughed to himself, after all this scene was only meant for movies! There was no way someone could cry over writing. That would be absurd. But here he was anyway, forced to remember every single memory he could to praise her—because his love, his light was extinguished, never to be ignited again. He couldn’t write though, without reminding himself how much he has lost. He wanted to hold her hand again, listen to her heart beat because he loved her so much. He had his whole life ahead set with her. Where does he go from here? Please don’t take her away.
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3
He is a child again. He stood a few feet away from his desk which was littered with crumpled paper and failed attempts of writing a letter. He had so much time to love her he thought he couldn’t give some to mourn her death. So, he stood there, a child missing the most important person of his life. Perhaps if he waited for her sixty hours more than he did for the rest of his life, even if she took her time doing her make-up, she could have made it. He had hope she’d get better. Strong, intelligent, and beautiful, she was. She was a fighter. How could the girl with the eyes that held so much hope, have her name carved on stone in the next few days? Thoughts were running rampant, and he hated its footsteps. All those seven hundred miles he walked with her, he’s terrified would be replaced. 2
He is not one to be pitied. Those supposed sympathetic eyes directed at them, he wanted to poke. If someone is fighting to live, don’t consider killing her through gossips an option! His girl was getting better, and these irksome people keep getting worse. He huffed in condemnation and walked towards his girl’s hospital room. This door is the same as any other door in the hospital, except his whole life is behind this. So, he cleared his face of any worry and turned the cold knob. He hadn’t guessed prior who the adjective belonged to as well. 1
“We don’t die, we respawn.” Just below his computer game poster, he was busy playing to kill time. Not even a bomb going off would be able to extract his eyes from the figures moving in his screen. Of course, his team has the upper hand. But then he heard his girl’s ringtone blaring loudly. He grabbed his phone and put it to his ear, his fingers typing away his magnificent talks with his teammates all the while. But it was an unfamiliar voice under a familiar contact; and what he hears next nulled the giddy smile off his face. He blanched. His expression became ominously neutral, his jaw and muscle locked. She was held at gunpoint. He needed to get to the hospital quick. He was walking in strides— Wait; did he shut his computer off? Never mind. She was at the hospital. What if she—? No. No no no. He has hope.
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Ama
Karl Josh GUILLERMO Pagmamahal mo’y walang katumbas Inalay mong buhay, kami’y naligtas Waring pag-asa, sa aming lahat, Ang IYONG muling pagkabuhay, ang siyang hinihintay.
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F irewall
Vera Nicollette S. PERALTA Every time I’m crossing this road, this huge, lonesome, and old house nearby always catches my attention. From the outside, the walls look thin, like they are just large dark grey stones sandwiched together by crumbling cement. There are only windows in front of the house rattled vigorously from the howling wind as though they are about to fall out of the rotting frames. Climber plants grew up the left and right walls as if they are reaching for an entrance inside the house except the left and right side is a pure wall. The heavy and rotted gate is almost covered by tall grasses though I can still peek behind the iron bars where a sea of odd dead leaf is simultaneously flying over the old cobbled path beneath it. If this way was not the only walking distance route going home, I wouldn’t dare to pass over it and run from the silhouettes of the flying owls in the cloudless sky. I wouldn’t choose to feel as cold as ice whenever I hear the trees swaying in the wind like whispers. This route is the nearest, but it’s like passing through hell. Making it easier to conclude how one day, the area was burnt down. A flame kept constantly burning at the area until all that was left was ashes and remains of materials that are once called home. Firefighters try to extinguish the fire which engulfed the residential area but most of them failed to. The next morning, we were wakened up by the sunshine directly shining unto us because the rays of the sun are no longer blocked by the crowded area. The smell of smoke is still roaming around the atmosphere and some families are still evacuating but there’s this one house firmly standing on its original spot. Holding my breath as I pass by, I stared at the durable house. How is it still firmly standing there when everything around it is burnt down to pieces? I was in the middle of thinking that the house may be truly haunted when I overheard that only houses with firewalls can survive hell.
PULGADA IV: PIRASO 2NDPLACE, FLASH FICTION
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Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO
H idden M argo and H er H idden M essages Ronniel Carl Y. MALIT
It’s been a couple of months since that sweet smile was gone. That perfect voice I want to hear every day was vanished. That beautiful face I want to see every morning, suddenly found missing. All that you left are pictures of you scattered around your room. Pictures of you that made us wondered why? “Why did you leave those memories? What do you want us to do? How can we find you? Where are you? Are those pictures are the clues for me to find out what really happened? “Jessica cried with confusion. Day 1. The photo was taken on September 18, three weeks before you were gone. In the photo, there were you, Jessica, Martin, and Tara on the podium after you won at the Cheer dance Com61 | BANHAW
petition on our school. I remembered that moment because I’m the one who captured the photo. I looked closer at the picture and noticed something. Tara’s right eye seemed like it was pierced with a needle. I also noticed that the rest of the pictures were also pierced. They had the same pattern, right eye of the first person on the right of the photos. But what do this message meant? Day 2. The next photo that caught my attention was a photo taken on September 25 at Jessica’s party. It was you, sitting at the hammock with Earl. It was too vague for me to see the other part of the picture because I believe it was soaked with liquid. I just noticed scattered ink of a gel pen on the lower right corner. I believe it was a disappeared message of you because I still can see some part of your handwriting on that scattered ink. I looked for Earl, but he was also missing by the day you disappeared. It left me a question, Margo. Is he the one that is responsible for your vanishing? I called the police to find Earl. I knew he had something to do with this. I kept on searching for clues on these pictures. I saw a scratched photo of Jessica in our favourite coffee shop, Cafe Troppo. I found a stolen picture of you and Martin kissing, but what left me with confusion is the blood stain on our photo. It made me concluded one sure answer. So I went home immediately. I open the front door slowly. No sound to be heard. I walk gently towards the basement with those pictures on my left hand and a loaded gun on the other. It was dark, I am scared. I moved to the corner where the light switch was placed and turn on the lights. I saw her, for the 3rd week, here at my house. She’s crying, begging me to release her. She’s sobbing while I continued to give her a scary laugh. I move towards her and remove the scarf on her mouth. “Please! Please! Tyrone! Release me please!”. She begged for freedom for the 23rd time. I put down the gun, pushed her mouth near my face using my strong right hand and said, “I knew it! You’re genius! You left them with clues. Sad to say I was the one who figured it out. Your friends were too stupid. You’re heading them to our location. The Cafe Troppo and the right eye you pierced symbolize Wright Street, and Earl, the man who knew that I am the only one who will have the courage to do all of this. And the photo of us, you left a blood stain. How clever!” I took the gun and pointed it to her brain. She continued to sob. She’s so pretty even if her make ups were totally wrecked. “See you in hell clever Margo.” And the loud bang of the gun concluded the night with satisfaction for me.
PULGADA IV: PIRASO 2ND PLACE, SHORT STORY
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Y orme
Reister VINUYA
Buti pa ang taong nabulok sa likod ng mga rehas na bakal Ay tila may ikalawang buhay na nakalaan Pero ang nabulok na katawan ng mga napaslang Sa di malamang dahilan Ay humupa na lamang mula sa kalupaan
Graphics by:
Lenard BUGARIN
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The Blaze of Tears Karl Josh GUILLERMO
Flare-up as I walk the isle I never realized how distatrous am I It’s the field of a beautiful life I marked disastrous in the eye Look how they scream when they see me And took advantage to kill; My burning light, the one thing I call life Is there intention to make it out of the spark Everytime they want me to kill They always bring you and pour it with me You let them kill me and make it out I thought you will be the one to save me But it goes something epic The one I know mine, Is the one who made me outshine
Graphics by:
Vince PAYUMO BANHAW | 64
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Graphics by:
Ian AGLIAM And Renz Anthony SALCEDO
M asterpis Adonis E. LOPEZ
Isang obrang likha ng isang mahusay na artista, Isang obrang tunay na pambihira, Obrang ubod ng misteryo’t hiwaga, Paano nga ba niya ito nagawa?
Dahan-dahang nilapat ang kanyang katawan, Ninamnam ang obrang pinaghirapan. Kinikiskis ang katawan ng marahan, Hanggang ang rurok ay makamtan.
Galak at saya ang kanyang nadarama, Habang nililikha ang kanyang pinakamamahal na obra. Pambihirang sarap na inaasam niya, Ay makakatamtan na niya mula sa kanyang likha.
Buong pwersang nagtungo sa kampilan, Upang ang obra’y di makita ninuman, Tinagpas ng walang pag-aalinlangan, Bagay na sa huli’y kanyang pinagsisihan.
Planado ang bawat kumpas ng kanyang mga kamay. Mata sa kanyang obra’y hindi mawalay. Bawat hakbang ay puso’t isip ang alay, At handang ialay maging ang buhay.
Nilibot ang buong pulo, Isinupot ang tinagpas na ulo, Inihagis sa likod ng anino, At ang natirang bahagi’y iniwan sa bawat kanto.
Obra sa mesa’y pinantay, Itinaas ng malumanay ang mga kamay, Iginapos ang paang naglulupasay, Busal sa bibig ay kanyang inialay.
PULGADA IV: PIRASO
3RD PLACE, PAGSULAT NG TULA
BANHAW | 66
CHAPTER 4: MELISA Hearing that story made my feet walk back to my seat and continue listening to Emil's eulogy. To be honest, it was not a eulogy, rather a confession. He was just a shadow that follows Carmela before, and now he is her voice. Emil regrets that night before 9 o'clock, and upon listening to him, I regret why I killed Carmela. Instead of being one of those who made her suffer, I should've been the one who asked her if she's alive or just breathing. I don't even know why my feet dragged me here. Carmela and Emil's name were only being mentioned by almost everyone, I can just hear them from time to time in school, I don't actually know them, but maybe I am acting a role in Carmela's case. Aside from being one of the bullies who slowly killed her, who am I? What did I do? At night before 9 o'clock, Carmela was waiting for him. But fate was not inclined to be good to them that is why Emil did not come in time. She jumped from the rooftop, and only her phone was left on the ground. She set the text message timer at 9 o'clock that was sent to Emil the moment he reached her place. "If you are reading this, then I succeed in killing myself." He was choking with her own sobs while talking, he couldn't speak well. He wanted to stop his eulogy, but he knows that we needed to hear this. Us, who killed Carmela. All those who bullied her and made her jump off the rooftop. He wanted us to regret, feel guilty, and in the end, suffer too. At the end of Emil's eulogy, he told us the story of daisies. Why Carmela loves them, and why he keeps giving her this flower. He gives it to her as a sign of love, but Carmela never heard it from him. Each daisy flower is really two flowers blended together in harmony. Like two people destined to love each other. But Carmela and Emil were just two hopeless people in a love story that ended in 2016. Emil's confession ended with some more tears. They delivered Carmela to her resting place afterward. But her story does not end there. That night, I was in the same hospital. I heard how Emil shouted at the nurses when they keep telling him to calm down as he asks where the operating room was located. He was panicking, and fear was evident in his face. I've seen how bad Carmela got from the impact of falling from the top of that 30 storey building. I was in the lobby, waiting for a doctor. The same doctor who operated her but failed. He was my sugar daddy, the reason why I was able to study in a private school. The reason why I was as wrecked as I made Carmela be. That does not end my confession. That night, I drove my uncle's car. I was wasted, and I met Emil. He could've saved her if I only reversed the car before 9 o'clock.
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Graphics by:
Renz Anthony SALCEDO
BANHAW | 68
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" Don’t be afraid to be bewildered because through confusion you will find focus" Rainer T. DIAZ
PULGADA III: PATAK 1ST PLACE, PAINTING
BANHAW | 70
Graphics by:
Hieden Kae BULOSAN
71 | BANHAW
Karatula Adonis E. LOPEZ
Ayan na naman at nababalitaan, Isang bagay na nakabalot sa daan. Di alam ano ang nilalaman, At may karatula pang tangan. Unti-unti ng binubuksan, Isang katawan ang nasisilayan. Di alam ang pagkakakilanlan, Sino kaya ang may kagagawan? At sa paglipas ng mga araw, Patuloy pa ring umaalingasaw. Amoy ng mga katawang ligaw, Na kung saan-saan lumilitaw. Kaawa-awang pagmasdan, Ang katawang nasa daan. Mukhang walang kalaban-laban, Hinatulan agad ng kamatayan. Nakakapanibagong pagmasdan, Karatulang nakikita sa daan. Kapiling ang isang katawan, Na di alam ang pinagmulan. Sa tuwing aking pagmamasdan, Naaalala ko ang ating kabataan. Tayo rin ay may karatulang tangan, Sa tuwing tayo’y papasok sa paaralan. Ang karatulang noon na ang nilalaman, ay ang iyong pangalan at tirahan. Ngayon ito ay napalitan, Ng mga katagang “Adik ako, Huwag Tularan.”
PULGADA II: FOCUS
1ST PLACE, PAGSULAT NG TULA
BANHAW | 72
Graphics by:
Gemmark SICAT
73 | BANHAW
Tuloy Po Kayo Yena Barbette CABALU
Tuloy po kayo sa lipunan Mananatili ba o panandalian? Maaari niyong gawin ang naisin Basta tama sa kanilang paningin. Dapat litaw ang kaluluwa sa susuotin Mahaba o maiksi mapupuna ka pa rin Lalapastanganin ang ngiti mong masaya Tapos tutuksuhin kapag sumimangot ka na. Dapat mong malamang wala kang halaga Sa isang malawak na hardin ay damo ka Wala kang bilang sa lipunang makulay Saka kami iiyak kapag ikaw na'y nasa hukay. Maaari kang umibig sa sino mang naisin Sa taong para sa'yo'y aming pipiliin Ngunit desisyon mo pa rin ang pangingibabawin Basta't pananaw mo'y nakabase sa pananaw namin. Tuloy po kayo sa lipunan Hatid namin sa inyo'y katotohanan Ngunit tandaan ngayong ika'y naririto na Wala ng paraan upang ika'y makaalis pa.
PULGADA III: PATAK
2ND PLACE, PAGSULAT NG TULA
BANHAW | 74
Pera Pera
Jesah NATIVIDAD Jesah NATIVIDAD
Ako’y balisang-balisa habang hinihintay ang aking kapatid. Lakad rito, lakad roon. balisang-balisa habang hinihintay Sandali ang aking rito,nglakad AyawAko’y tumigil ng aking dibdib sa pagkabog. pa’ykapatid. lumabasLakad na siya pinto.roon. NangAyaw tumigil ng aking dibdib sa pagkabog. Sandali pa’y lumabas na siya ng pinto. Nang masilayan masilayan ko siya’y parang nadagdagan pa angkalungkutan kaninang kalungkutan kanyang ko siya’y parang nadagdagan pa ang kaninang sa kanyangsamga mata. mga mata. “Ayaw“Ayaw ko mang tanggapin ngunit alam kong hindi na siya magtatagal. Malubha ko mang tanggapin ngunit alam kong hindi na siya magtatagal. Malubha na angna kundisyon ng ating ina, Ate! At halos hindi na siya makakain pa.” ang kundisyon ng ating ina, Ate! At halos hindi na siya makakain pa.” hindi pa natin sa ospital? Hindi Hindi magiging problema ang pera. “Bakit“Bakit hindi pa siya natindalhin siya dalhin sa ospital? magiging problema ang pera. Maaari natin siyang dalhin sa pribadong pagamutan at puwede rin tayong kumuha ng mga Maaari natin siyang dalhin sa pribadong pagamutan at puwede rin tayong kumuha ng mga espesyalista na titingin sa kanya.”, sabi ko upang sila’y bigyan ng pag-asa. espesyalista titingin kanya.”, sabi kongupang ng pag-asa. “Hindi nananiya gustosapang pumunta ospital,sila’y Ate.bigyan Sukang-suka na raw siya sa mga gamot na ipinaiinom sa kanya hindipumunta na niya ng makayanan pa ang mga karayom na siya itinutusok “Hindi na niya gustoatpang ospital, Ate. Sukang-suka na raw sa mga sa kanya. Tugon pa niya’y mas humihina lamang siya tuwing naroon siya.” gamot na ipinaiinom sa kanya at hindi na niya makayanan pa ang mga karayom na itinutusok Ako’y Tugon napaupo lamang sofa dahillamang tila naninikip angnaroon aking dibdib. sa kanya. pa na niya’y mas sahumihina siya tuwing siya.” “Ate, isang bagay na lang ang nais ina.” Ako’y napaupo na lamang sa sofa dahilnitila naninikip ang aking dibdib. tugonang konais naman. “Ate,“Ano isangiyon?” bagayang na lang ni ina.” Ako’y nanlambot at mangiyak-ngiyak nang buksan ng aking kapatid ang pintuan sa silid ng aming ina. “AnoPayat iyon?” ang tugon ko at mukhang hirapnaman. na hirap na sa paghinga kahit naka-oxygen na siya. “SimpleAko’y at mangiyak-ngiyak nang buksan ng aking ang pintuan sa lang,nanlambot Ate.”, tumigil siya saglit at huminga ng malalim sakakapatid nagsalita. silid“ang ng aming ina. Payat at mukhang hirapsanahuling hirap sandali na sa paghinga kahit na siya. makapiling at mahagkan ka kahit na lamang ngnaka-oxygen kanyang buhay.” “Simple lang, Ate.”, tumigil siya saglit at huminga ng malalim saka nagsalita. Lumabas na ng tuluyan ang mga luhang kanina pa’y aking pinipigilan. Napahagulgol na “ang makapiling at mahagkan ka kahit sa huling sandali na lamang ng kanyang buhay.” lamang ako sa sakit na nararamdaman. Lumabas na ng tuluyan ang mga kanina pa’ysaaking pinipigilan. Napahagulgol na sa “Ate, pakiusap umuwi ka na atluhang miss ka na rito Pinas.”, aniya pa habang nakatingin akin mula sa iskrin ng selpon niya. lamang ako sa sakit na nararamdaman. “Ate, pakiusap umuwi ka na at miss ka na rito sa Pinas.”, aniya pa habang nakatingin sa akin mula sa iskrin ng selpon niya. PULGADA III: PATAK 1ST PLACE,III:DAGLI PULGADA PATAK 1ST PLACE, DAGLI
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Graphics by:
Philipp Josh LORENZO
BANHAW | 76
Remember Breathing? Rhea Melinda L. CANCIO
This year, your breathing is more than it ever was— it's a system to be mastered, an anatomic dead space and hemoglobin, and the gravity pulling blood down to the bottom of your lungs like the sinking feeling that you shouldn't have tried to learn all those things the morning of. You're pretty sure your past self is laughing at you, but then again you aren't the same person that you were last week, let alone last year. This is what you still are: residual caffeine jitters and a beat from your headphones, battered sneakers ambling up a hill in the dark, a huff of cold air in the early morning and a couple of shots too many, they’re probably you as well. And the world is still numbers: it's the 3 hours of sleep you snatched on a couch in a library but it's also the one girl who smiled at you and dimmed the chandeliers as she departed to her room. The world is 80 million more people than it was last year
Graphics by:
Hieden Kae BULOSAN 77 | BANHAW
but you are borne up by 700 million alveoli. The atmosphere is 21 percent oxygen and you can never seem to catch up, not when there are so many things to take your breath away. Mt. Everest is the Earth's tallest mountain at 29,029 feet, so high that the jet stream can hit it. The world is coils of tidal force, relentless. You are tidal volume, the air of quiet breathing. You and the world alike are nothing to the galactic tides which sweep up even the stars in their wake. This is what you still are: uncertain, always. It's pretty much a default state of being. But focus on your breathing and remember that your lungs have 1200 mL of residual volume; no matter how much you try to exhale, you can never breathe out all of your air. No matter what, your lungs won't let you give up.
PULGADA III: PATAK 1ST PLACE, POETRY
BANHAW | 78
Blowing Dandelions Josel Luigi F. CREENCIA
"What's your answer then?" He asked for the third time. Not knowing what to say, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath inhaling the air in the big house of the old man, and exhaled heavily. She smelled a familiar scent. "Could it possibly be? Dandelions?" She asked her self quietly. For a moment she spaced out, strolling down her last memory before moving to the city. All of the sudden she was six again, running through the fields picking up Dandelions. Oh, how she loved blowing Dandelions. Every flower was a wish she hoped with all her heart would come true, but didn't. Nevertheless for a brief second, she felt things. Things she refused to believe she was capable of ever feeling again. It was when she least expected it, but for the first time in a long time, she was happy. Innocent, even. How she wished her Dandelions did grant her wishes. She would have wished to go back to the time when the only gratification she provided was the joy her father felt watching her sweet little laugh. She snaps back to reality. Now her eyes are opened. Wider than ever. "How much will it be again?" She asked the old man. "Enough for your college tuition." He answered. "Okay" she uttered back. His pants came down. She blew. But this time it wasn't a Dandelion.
PULGADA III: PATAK
1ST PLACE, FLASH FICTION
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Graphics by:
Gemmark SICAT
BANHAW | 80
ab USE , Drugs, Condoms and Sex Jan Gusfel C. DUNGCA
Monuments fall, nations perish After an era of darkness New generations flourished Abandoned a scar of menace Crimes remain untouched Mister, Mayor, Senator, toddler, -The Victims. As if life, is just life. Until life becomes lifeless Local distribution of “shabu” and marijuana, Produced a vast wasteland Buy bust operation were put into action Whose warden are the primary abusers Lordship lists of drugs were formulated Where everyone becomes a thorn of its attacking Mega paralysis,extrajudicial killings, and dominant injustices They are devotee of exploitation Bullets begun to blatantly mark On Jose and Maria’s innocent body The PhilippineNational Police, for worst Had already strike thousands of soul In the persona of the riding in tandems and unidentified man Woman, being raped Due to lack of education dissemination Distribution of condoms for precipitation? Only distributing for protection? Is a malignant tumor of the illegal trade ofillicit sex! Just to give it a try for once, twice, or maybe of a finger count Is enough to satisfy the itch and pleasure? But when being corrupt on the actual scenario, They become irresponsible members of the society 81 | BANHAW
Never had it diminished population explosion! Why don’t you search the explanation? The power of the universe, through unsupported media It will only serves as a boomerang in an open field Where everyone might get hurt Where everyone might be a victim, or for more alarming, Where everyone might be severely damaged. We must act as we breathe Before final judge of our deeds We must set flying to bring in more Even for a tiny ripple of hope In second edition to correct some faults You are not born for frozen-drugs Assorted-condoms and flavored-sex. “Millennians” of the folded, bolded, blooded century They say. Where are you?
PULGADA III: PATAK 1ST PLACE, POETRY
Graphics by:
Gemmark SICAT
BANHAW | 82
Talahiban Yena Barbette CABALU
Nang agawin ng buwan ang ganda ng araw naalimpungatan hindi mula sa paniginip kundi sa naghahalinghingang katawan sinusunog ang kaluluwa habang hinahatid sa kalangitan. Ako’y nasa biyahe pa-langit ngunit hindi ako ang nakasakay ako ang kanilang sasakyan kaya’t sila’y nagsisipasukan panay ako panaghoy at hiyaw kaya’t sila’y nagsisilabasan Ito pala ang ruta pa-langit; sa talahiban. Hatid sundo, kaya’t atras-abante mga taga-biyahe ng demonyo hindi naniningil ng pamasahe hindi mo sila binayaran ngunit ika’y susuklian kung hindi ang iyong buhay ay buhay sa iyong sinapupunan.
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Larawan ng Isang Ligaw na Ibon Kim L. GACAYAN
Humigit-kumulang apat na oras ng binabaybay ni Dina ang kahabaan ng kalsada sa gilid ng kagubatan ng Verdad nang mahagip ng kanyang paningin ang isang malaking ibon. Kung hindi siya nagkakamali ay isa itong haribon, ang pambansang ibon ng Pilipinas. Unti-unti niyang binagalan ang bilis ng kanyang minamanehong sasakyan upang sundan ng tingin ang ibon at masiguradong tama ang kanyang hinala. Nang mga sandaling sigurado na niyang ito nga ay isang haribon ay inilabas niya ang kanyang kamera mula sa bag sa kanyang tagiliran upang kunan ito ng larawan ngunit dahil sa walang humpay na paggalaw ng ibon at pagmamaneho ay hindi siya makakuha ng magandang anggulo. Napagawi ang haribon papaloob sa mga puno ng kagubatan dahilan upang itabi niya ang kanyang sasakyan para masundan ang ibon. Patuloy na sinusundan ni Dina ang ibon na sya namang tila naghahanap ng agahan. Nasa ibon lamang ang buong atensyon ng dalaga, di na niya alintana ang mga sanga na nagsisibalian sa bawat hakbang niyang dumadampi sa mga ito at higit sa lahat ay hindi na niya napapansin na siya pala ay lalo ng napupunta sa kalooban ng gubat. Isang paa sa harapan ng isa, at isa pa, at isa pa. Patuloy parin siya sa pag habol sa ibon, nagbabakasakali na makuhanan ito ng larawan na alam niya na kanyang ikagagalak. Hakbang pa paloob sa kagubatan, at isa pa, at isa pa hangang sa ang hakbang niya ay hindi na sinalo ng lupa. Itinuon niya ang kanyang mga paningin at napagtanto niyang bangin na pala ito ngunit huli na ang lahat; hindi na siya humahakbang – bagkus, gumugulong. Kasabay ng pagkawala ng ibon ay siya namang pagumpisa ng pag ikot-ikot ng kagubatan sa kanyang paningin hangang sa makaramdam siya ng kalabog sa ibabaw ng kanyang ulo at unti-unting pagdilim ng kanyang paningin.
PULGADA III: PATAK
1ST PLACE, MAIKLING KWENTO BANHAW | 84
IT
Klier MANIA
Since I was a kid I used to sit on an earth filled with green grass and dried roots 5 meters away from our house. That space was enough to let my mind travel at strange but wonderful places no one might ever see except me. I know because it was all in my mind. Not my imagination but my senses. That was a long time ago but I am still here. Or should I say I am now here- in this hopeful space of mine where I can go anywhere. Free and quiet. As if I am lifted by hidden strings, not tight but gentle. Soon I’ll reach the peak of that world and will lead me to other dimension. Sometimes it takes me to the past. But I will cry from insecurity, guilt, and temporary emotions I could get. I feel lost for a moment. Like drowning from nothing. It lasts for 10 minutes or so. Maybe because of me being random or some sort. I grip things seriously then not at all. It helps to overcome sudden circumstances. I assure you. I’ve been there a zillion freaking times. Past is not always like that. Some gives me settlement. Reassurance.Belief. It is funny how it can change people without them knowing anything. They just agree then doubt. Then agree again because they got no choice. It is a cycle. But not me. I want things differently. Not always my way but differently. I am no hero of anyone or myself. I never intended to absorb responsibilities just to be fit in a society I do not get. This thing is like a maze that only the maker can escape or leave. Yes indeed. It is a humongous chunk of selfishness and trials. I never liked my past that is why I always wanted to get my future in my cold boney hands. Though I would not consider all of it I still care a bit about it. Too much thinking will lead you to suffering as they say. For me it is more of a realization to where moments feel so vague. So tainted. No one tries to go beyond the grayish chains of smokes but the white
PULGADA III: PATAK
2ND PLACE, SHORT STORY
85 | BANHAW
flashes. It won’t matter. It never gives you what you really want. As if it is an illusion that brings you to places familiar to everyone. And you will think you weren’t special. Just like the others, you were just another commoner. Carrying those burdens with feet up high dissolves faith. Your existence. Your purpose. Everything slaps you in every step. But you will keep your gravity. That is my future. That may be our future. Hoping for the best at the worsts. I am laughing right now with a drop of emotion flowing on my grey face to when I think about the present. I was and am happy. Back to earth where green grass and dries roots surrounds me. Where this space of mine creates thousands and thousands of worlds and stars I am able to reach. Where life is I call “it”. The one that I do not possess now.
Graphics by:
Philipp Josh LORENZO
BANHAW | 86
The Stentorian Academic Year 2019-2020
the STENTORIAN Editorial Board and Staff 2019-2020
Karl Josh M. Guillermo editor in chief
Leinahtan John L. Martinez
Juan P. AgustiN Jr.
Jesliemae L. Alvarez
Leopoldo Baltazar Jr.
Carl Joseph L. Gonzales
Yena Barbette Cabalu
feature editor
literary editor
Roser Laxamana
Gift Paulene Love L. Gomez
associate editor
Managing Editor
assoc. Managing Editor
news editor
layout editor
sports editor
Gerald Christian E. Pugat
JHONA MAE DELA CRUZ
layout artist
Senior Photojournalist
CORRESPONDENTS: VINCE CARLO PAYUMO | LENARD BUGARIN | IAN AGLIAM | ANDREW GABRIEL VILLEGAS | STEPHEN laurence GUILLERMO | Shirine Pearl Sarranquin | Cristina Mae Agustin | Maria Elaine Pascua | Jasmin Tamares | Crystel Joy Samodio | Johannfel Rigor | Kyla Nichole Garcia | Genere James Nool | Charles Darwin Daquigan | Reister Vinuya | Crizhia Gonzales |Edrich Jeron Fernando | Mary Rose Arellano | CONTRIBUTOR: RENZ ANTHONY SALCEDO Engr. Leonides A. Tatu Adviser
STENTORIAN Ang ‘Stentorian‘ ay nagmula sa pangalan ng isang katauhan mula sa mga alamat ng Griyego, na si Stentor. Kilala siya bilang tagapagbando ng kilusan ng mga Griyego noong mga panahon ng Digmaang Troya. Ang salitang Stentor ay nangangahulugan din na ‘malakas na boses‘ dahil sa kakayahan ng stentors bilang tagapamahayag (ng balita). Sa katunayan, kinilala si Stentor sa kaniyang boses na singlakas ng 100 katao. Namatay siya pagkatapos matalo sa paglisahan ng pagsigaw laban kay Hermes, and diyos na mensahero ng mga diyos.
“Sa pagkakataong pinili mo ang nasa pagitan, dalawa lang ang maaaring kahinatnan; magbago o manatili.”