Column

Broken Trust
Rondel John Forjes
Nightmares of the labyrinth were gone, the sky was painted blue. Freedom can be widely
seen, a warm sunshine from above and a cool breeze from below. There it flew higher, higher,
and higher then suddenly, the wax melted and the mouth of the ocean succumbed him in an
instant. Most for sure do know about this story. These are the lines that were rolling in my eyes
one evening while reading my old photocopies about Greek mythology when I heard a mans
weepy voice in a near place. Anak apay met nga kastuy ti insubad mo kanya mi ken mamang
mo, inted mi met amin nga kayat mo ket. . .apay han ka kadi maasi kanya mi. . . .kayat mi lang
met nga makaturpos ka tapnu han ka maytulad kanya mi nga agkapkapudutan ti inaldaw-aldaw.
(Anak, bakit ganito ang ibinalik mo samin ng mama mo? Binigay naming lahat ng gusto mo.
Bakit, hindi ka ba naaawa samin? Gusto lang naming makatapos ka para hindi ka matulad sa
amin na naghihirap araw-araw.) Upon hearing these words, I dropped the things in my hand and
look on the medium-sized mirror in the corner and think something. The loadstone that I felt
within, how I wished all vague shadows heard it. They may not understand the language but for
the feeling, I am sure they can.
From the pointed black pen, smooth leaves of our notebook, grandeur mask of uniforms,
up to the bread that we take in, did we ask ourselves who are the people behind these comforts?
A question that could shiver someone if its not, a person who didnt had the time to look about
these things is a ripened rotten fruit. Take three then return zero, uproot a plant then replant no,
sad to say that this is true but it is a misty feign in this modernized world.
When students enter the portal of a school, inside their backpacks are the expectations of
their loved ones to climb up the golden ladder of life along with the full trust of their parents for
them to do their part in the end of the bargain. Inside their brain is the mindset to clamour for
knowledge and skills for future purposes. Every day, our parents break their backs just to send us
to school. They dont care about their image, even if they will look like ragged paintings hanging
with one nail on a wall covered with moss. For the mind that hadnt had this vision, then allow
this simple writing to enlighten you.
In the context of formality, a student is a student, just hiding behind the word student is
pure stupidity. We, the borrowers, are walking in our own roads to reach a time and space where
we can repay what should be reciprocated. Treating ourselves that we know everything, can
easily decide on something, and can act on anything because we are on the route of schooling,
isnt this truth suffocating?
Some use uniforms just to portray a distorted reality; some wear shiny shoes to increase
the aura of boastfulness, but most I believe is wearing these things for the good purpose.
A true student knows about the things he must do and the things he shouldnt do. The
uniform that were wearing is guided by rules that are already innate inside us which when we
follow can softened their rough hands and wiped their perspirations under the burning sun.

The pendulum swings in only two directions, right or left. As the ball swings, it enjoys
itself from the goodness state of equilibrium. There is no permanent place for it is continuous
process. The question now, will you allow your eyes to move from left to right or right to left?
Confusing it maybe, but my dear readers, the pendulum that Im talking about is like a student. If
the student will choose to go left he will be left, if a student will choose to go right he will be
right. Look unto the mirror! Will you allow now for their TRUST TO BE BROKEN?