“She needs professional help”
We briefly met on Ubud Palace, in Ubud, Bali, during a dance representing the Mahbarata story of Barong and Rangda, the 29th of July. I was seated in front of you with my husband, and I had a camera with me.
The first thing I want to do is apologize. I’m really sorry I ruined your enjoyment of that beautiful balinese dance. The story, in fact, is really interesting, because it shows how much Balinese people believe in the idea of the balance accomplished by the ever-present tension of two opposites.
You know, when I have my camera in my hands, I usually lose track of time and space. Being an indomitable perfectionist, I always search for the nicest composition. That being said, as much as I want the nicest picture, I always try to be respectful with everyone and everything. For example, I don’t get so close to people as to be an annoyance, specially if they are performing something that requires concentration or something that seems important to them. I always check that I’m not interfering with other people that might be interested in taking pictures as well. I try to be quiet, even if everyone is being noisy.
However, I must admit that night it wasn’t the case. I was nervous, because the palace was full of people, everybody moving, and everyone wanted to take pictures or get a better view of what was happening on stage. I got so carried away in my eagerness of having a nice picture of the performance, that I absolutely forgot I was in the exact same conditions as many people there. I think I even missed the dance itself, because I was extremely focused only in portraying the dancers or elements of the scene. As I said to you before, sometimes I lose track of time and space, but, believe me or not, it’s the first time I lose it so much that I actually forget about people around me. I’m not trying to justify my attitude, but it was my first time in Bali. Most probably, it was your first time there, too.
My husband, which knows me well enough, saw that I was losing control, and even warned me. In fact, I think he warned me two times. Even with his kind words, I didn’t realize I was bothering people around me and continued taking pictures without stopping.
And then, your words came. I saw with the corner of my eye that you were talking to my husband. So I turned, and even though I was looking directly at you, and you were clearly talking about me, still you kept directing your complaint and anger towards my husband.
“Tell her to fucking stop, she’s hyperactive, she needs professional help”, you said.
I believe you said more things, adorned with a bit more of the “ F word”, that I couldn’t hear. I think you said you were “fucking trying to watch the show”. My husband said that even if you were right (and you were), there were nicer ways to say it. You insisted I needed “professional help”.
I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you at all. I would have possibly acted the same way if a nuts photographer was wobbling with his/her camera in front of me, preventing me of watching something really interesting. I guess I wouldn’t have used the same words, maybe I would have tried to put up with you, but with anger and disturbing people around with my bad manners.
Instead of apologizing to you, what I did was turn around again and started sobbing and silently crying. I felt absolutely outraged, alone, lonely. I childishly grazed on the fact that you, in short terms, had judged me deranged. I guess I also felt ashamed. So I shut down my camera, and fixed my weepy eyes in the stage. And sobbed.
Again, my husband, whom I’m ashamed to admit I was blaming for how I was feeling (I know he was the least guilty of the whole affair), said to me to calm down. I didn’t calm down. I couldn’t calm down. He offered me to go out of the palace, even though he knew he would miss more than half of the whole representation. When the act we were watching finished and hands started clapping, we went out.
I remember something very clearly. I think I will always remember it. When I got up, my eyes welled up with tears, my face disfigured by my non-stop sobbing, I looked at you. I tried to meet your eyes, maybe searching for a bit of sympathy, or even anger, something that could help me in releasing my feelings. But, and I will always remember this no matter what, you were intently fixing your eyes in the stage, which was then empty. I don’t blame you for this either. You were possibly avoiding eye-contact with someone you deemed deranged, mad. So deranged that was in dire need of “professional help”.
A few days have passed, and I’m only trying to guess why would you do that. I’m trying to understand you. Why did you say I needed “professional help”, why you wouldn’t drop the F word, why you wouldn’t talk to me, and instead addressed yourself to my husband, who was “f****** trying to watch the show” as hard as you were. He wasn’t the one holding the camera. Why you didn’t even bother in looking at me straight in the eye. It’s surprising, because, after all, you had the right to look at me straight in the eye and show your anger. But instead you were staring angrily at the stage, and I’m still wondering why.
I reckon I heard you talking before everything started, and you were talking to someone, possibly a friend. But when I left, there wasn’t anyone with you. Maybe you were angry because that person left you by yourself? Or maybe that day was the only day you could possibly see the dancing show before flying back to your country? Maybe you’re an erudite in balinese religion and this meant so much to you to make you that angry? Maybe your friends left you there and went for something else, while I had the luck of sharing the experience with my just married husband in our honeymoon? Were you tired/thirsty/hungry? There are a myriad of possibilities to fathom why you were so pissed off with my behavior.
After we left the palace, and I calmed down, I was tempted to go back and say all of this to you, but I didn’t rely on my ability to tell you all of this and listen to your justified rant about my insensitive behavior to the other people during the play. All I have left is this, which is but a poor and lacking display of what should have been my response in that situation. My other worry besides this void letter is trying to make up to my husband for depriving him of watching the show. I admire him, he could have punched you in the face, he could have yelled at you, but instead, he told you there are better ways to express disagreement. I wish to be that reasonable and cool some day.
I sure hope that, when you get back to the comfort of your own home, you see this. Maybe one day, when you are sitting relaxed at your desk, and you’re at peace with the world, browsing the Internet… you will find this. I would give everything in the world to see your face once you get to the bottom line.
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