The Blasphemous Act of Waldjinah

Waldjinah as Ratu Kembang Katjang, 1958

When Waldjinah, the famous singer, took the stage and sang in the 1960s, the place was always full.
And when Waldjinah, the singer, went down the stage right after, the place was never less crowded.
The people were all waiting for her to do one more act.
She was expected to touch them.

Waldjinah is a legend in the world of Keroncong. She rose to fame in 1958 by winning a radio contest that granted her a record deal. In 1965, she won the President Soekarno trophy while seven months expecting. Charmed by her voice, the President went as far as giving a name to the yet unborn child. Kris Biantoro, the famous all round entertainer, also loved her voice, calling her ‘Meteor dari Sala’ (‘the meteor from the town of Solo’).

It was also the same voice that kept the people in their place. They were so deeply captured by it, that they even considered her touch as grace. The pregnant women wished that it would grant their child power to sing, while the mothers with sick babies hoped that it would bring out health. Waldjinah would gladly answer their hopes, touching them one by one before eventually leaving the place.

Had this interesting thing happened 50 years later, it would have been considered a blasphemous act. Especially when we put in mind how the country is now filled with people whose god is so weak that it has to be chosen all the time and put in a constant contest with its own creations.

Thankfully, it didn’t.

It happened in the time when people lived with a very different set of values.
It happened in the time when people wanted their offspring to have a knack for things that, profit-wise, questionable.
It happened in the time when people were able to appreciate the most subtle-and-easily-fall-to-boring-in-nowadays-standards-things, such as Keroncong.
It happened in the time when people were closer to God, in a much more profound way that involved mundane things, than wearing specific attire or screaming some exact words.
And in such a time, Waldjinah shone like a crack in the skies. Through her voice, people were readily taken away, brought to a transcendent connection with the Absolute itself. Simply, when people saw her sing Keroncong, they felt God.

So, surrounded by this kind of beautiful blasphemous realization, the people earlier did what their heart told them to do. They waited for her and asked her to share some crumbs of that once felt connection left.
“Touch your hand to me and my baby, and everything is good,” they said.
Waldjinah would humbly answer their hopes, touching them one by one before eventually leaving the place.