Blanquette de Veau

Dalawang minuto na lang ang natitira mga

kaibigan…

Lalong umiinit ang labanan sa loob ng

studio. Mararamdaman ang magkahalong

pananabik, takot, at saya. Sabik ang bawat nanonood

sa kalalabasan ng higit dalawang oras na labanan sa

pagluluto.

…sino kaya ang tatanghaling “Pinoy Iron Chef?”

Habang patuloy sa walang katapusang pagsasalita ang

punong-abala, kalmado pa rin sa pagluluto si Iron Chef

Raphael Yoro. Mahigit tatlong minuto na ring luto ang

pinakuluan niyang karne ng bisiro. Umaalingasaw na ang

mabangong amoy ng mga sangkap nito. Nagpapatunay

lamang na palapit na ang tagumpay na kanyang

inaasam-asam.

“Blanquette de Veau” ang tawag sa resipeng kanyang

pambato sa labanang sinalihan. Veal Stew sa Ingles.

Masuwerte siya dahil karne ng bisiro ang pinaglalabanan

nila ng kanyang katunggaling chef. Karne ng bisiro

kasi ang espesyalidad ng kanyang pinamamahalaang

restawran kung saan siya ang punong tagapagluto.

Natutunan pa niyang lutuin ang resipeng ito sa

France noong siya ay nag-aaral pa ng culinary. Ngunit

sa pagkakataong ito, mas pinasarapan pa niya ang

pagkakaluto. May kaunting binago lang naman siya

sa proseso ng pagluluto at dinagdagan pa niya ng

ibang mga sangkap ang resipe. Sa ganitong paraan,

makakatikim ng kakaibang lasa ang mga hurado.

Maswerte rin siya dahil baguhan pa sa pagluluto

ang kanyang kalaban. Isa pa, apat na beses na niyang

pinanghahawakan ang tropeo ng pagiging Iron Chef

sa magkasunod na pagpapalabas ng show na ito. Kaya

kampante siya sa kanyang kinalalagyan. Ano pa kaya ang

makababalisa sa kanya?

Hindi rin maipagkakaila na marami na ang suportang

natanggap niya mula sa kanyang pamilya, mga kamaganak,

mga kaibigan, at mga ibig makipagkaibigan. “Ang

galing mo talaga Raphael,” ika nga ng ilan. “Talagang

wala nang makakatalo sa kagalingan mo sa pagluluto…

hari ka ngang tunay ng kusina.” Patuloy pa nilang

panghihibo. Sa kanya na ang gabing ito. Isa pang panalo

para sa karangalan.

Patapos na si Raphael. Inihanda na niya ang “sauce

blanche”. Habang unti-unting natutunaw ang butter sa

kasirola ay dahan-dahan nyang ibinuhos ang harina.

Inihalo na rin nya ang stock at hinalukay ang mixture. Sa

wakas, inihalo na ni Raphael ang krema, karne, patatas,

karots, at mushrooms. Natapos rin.

Tumunog ang hudyat ng pagtatapos ng labanan.

Inihanda na ni Raphael ang mga putahing niluto para

matikman na ng mga hurado. Gayundin ang ginawa ng

kanyang kalaban.

Para sa gabing ito…ang dalawang chefs sa ating

harapan ay naglalabang makagawa ng mga masarap

na putahe mula sa karne ng bisiro…sa aking kaliwa ay si

Iron Chef Raphael Yoro, sa kanan naman ay si Chef Kyle

Andrade.

Naghiyawan ang mga nanonood.

Ang desisyon…ang tatanghaling Iron chef sa gabing ito

ay si…

Itinaas ng punong-abala ang kanyang kamay at

itinungo pakanan.

Chef Kyle Andrade!

Nagdilim ang paligid ni Raphael. Hindi siya

makapaniwala sa kinalabasan. Limang taon na niyang

ginagawa ang resipe ng karne ng bisiro. Anong nangyari?

Isang oras na ang nagdaan. Hindi pa rin umalis si

Raphael sa studio. Nilapitan niya ang isa sa mga hurado.

Tinanggihan siyang bigyan ng paliwanag sa desisyon.

Sunod niyang nilapitan ang ikalawa at ikatlong hurado.

Pareho pa rin ang pakikitungo nila sa kanya. Para bang

“wala kaming dapat ipaliwanag dahil ang desisyon ay

naanunsyo na.”

Subalit mapilit pa rin si Raphael.

“Mr. Direktor, anong nagyari kanina…nagbibiro ba

kayo?”

“Sandali lang po, wala akong oras na magpaliwanag sa

inyo…may set pa kaming ihahanda para sa susunod na

show.” Hindi makatingin ang direktor sa kanya.

“Kailangan ko ng paliwanag ngayon din o idedemanda

ko ang show nyo!” Tumaas ang boses ni Raphael dala

ng magkahalong pagkadismaya at galit sa pagkatalong

nangyari.

Napatigil ang direktor sa kanyang sinabi. Tumayo ito

ng diretso at tinitigan si Raphael.

“Mr. Yoro, alam kong masakit ang matalo. Pero, sana

pakatandaan po ninyo na hindi sa lahat ng pagkakataon

ay masasarapan ang lahat ng tao sa luto niyo.” Umalis

ang direktor at ipinagpatuloy ang paghahanda.

Naiwan si Raphael na nakatunganga sa harapan ng

kanyang maruming kagamitan sa pagluluto.

Note: This is an original story by Red Phantom.

 

Real Life Dragon Balls

I have always admired the concept behind the anime series, the famous Dragon Balls. The story circulates on gathering all seven dragon balls in order to summon a wish-granting dragon. As the story progresses, you will see that it is also about saving humankind from villains whose only intention is to destroy planet Earth. Son Goku, the hero in the story, is a super powerful being who came from an extra-terrestrial race. Despite being an alien to the planet, Son Goku devoted willingly all his super powers in saving Earth.

Back then, when I was a kid I only watched the series because I got entertained. You see, what’s not real gives little children their amazement. Harking back on how thrilled I was seeing Son Goku beating up all those bad guys, I decided to watch some of the episodes again. In the middle of the fighting scenes, my thoughts wandered. If Son Goku comes out from that big box, what would he possibly tell me?

“If I am a real being, your world would have been the luckiest planet in the galaxy. The thing is, I am not.” All I could see now in the screen is Goku looking straight through my eyes and his moving lips.

“See these green places behind me and these big fishes I caught in the river. You can have all of these now if you have powers like mine. Well, that would never happen. You don’t even have the courage to speak out.” I wanted to end this foolishness but I guess I could stand to hear some more.

“This fictional planet is my home. This is where I belong. This is where my loved ones reside. This is where my story began.”

“That very ground where you are placing your soles atop is where your individual stories began, too. You smiled, found friends, got betrayed, cried, got furious, and reconciled. It is also the same place where you got rejected, became loners, found someone to hold on to, and eventually loved. You just don’t realize those.”

“You are unaware of the importance of your planet. Or, you just don’t want to. Well, I bet even if you already are aware of it, you would still act as if you don’t know. Wouldn’t that be a compliment from me?”

“You fear the fact that you’re the ones responsible for your planet’s illness. So instead of making a move, you just let things be what they are – most of the time you let only the advocates do their thing while you are there, praising their efforts. Instead of doing something, you would not even bother to act. All you care about is that you won’t be living in your planet after fifty years anyway.”

“You know what? I’m beginning to suspect you are billions of little villains like Piccolo Daimao, Frieza, and Cell. All of you want to conquer Earth for your own convenience. You want to satisfy your unbearable desires.”

At the back of my head, I’m suffering a teeny bitty bout of conscience and feeling a lot of guilt. His words are beginning to haunt me.

“Don’t ever think that because your planet is living for eons already, it will surpass its poor condition now. Come think of it, you don’t have the dragon balls. No matter how many times you look for them, you won’t find one. You can’t summon a wish-granting dragon. Only my world has it. Yours doesn’t.”

“I am afraid that one day I might see your planet drab, filled with nothing but remains. Of course, I would only be watching it get destroyed, contrary to mine, wherein you watch me save my beloved planet. If you have done some shares, maybe you could have lessened your planet’s illness or probably healed it to some points. That would be a help, you know.”

Before he could continue, I shut the television and rush out of the room to find some air to breathe.

I wonder. If only I could find real dragon balls, maybe the Earth would be greener for billions of years more, but that would be a very lame idea. My fantasies would not allow me to find one because none of them is real, including that spiky, golden-haired anime character. What is real is the world we walk in now.

Yampungaran

Caw-aw-ah…caw-aw-ah…

“Buntog, hupo! Gapadulong ang uwak…” Dali-daling gipaak ni Kamprag ang mga layang dahon sa tubo ug gitabon kini sa iyang higalang pugo. Human, mipalayo siya aron limbongon ang uwak.

Ingon ani ang kinabuhi ni Buntog ug Kamprag sa katubhan. Matag karon ug unya, kinahanglan silang magbinantayon aron protektahan ang upat ka itlog sa pugaran ni Buntog. Hilabi na kay pipila nalang ka adlaw ang nahabilin para mapusa ang mga itlog.

“Kamprag, undang sa gud og kokak diha,” kalit nga pagputol ni Buntog sa ilang pagkutab.“Aduna ka ba’y nabati nga kasikas?”

Nipaduol si Kamprag sa mga natumba nga tubo aron paminawon ang nabatian ni Buntog. Gitikang pa ni Kamprag pag-usab ang gagmay niyang mga tiil hangtod nga nawala na siya sa panan-aw ni Buntog.

“Hoy, Kamprag. Asa naman ka? Tubag kuno.” Wala lang gihapon mitubag si Kamprag. Ug ang kasikas nga nabatian ni Buntog ganiha mas mikusog pa. Nangulba na og sugod si Buntog.

Human sa usa ka minuto, milumpayat si Kamprag gikan sa taliwala ug kalit niyang gituklod ang galumlom nga si Buntog.

“Kamprag, na unsa ka man?” suko nga pangutana ni Buntog.

Lisang nga mipalayo si Kamprag kaniya. “Buntog, dagan! Dagan palayo sa imong pugaran…adunay…”

Shhhsssssss…shhhssss…

Paspas nga gapadulong ang halas sa ilang gikahimutangan. Mipahilayo dayon si Buntog ug Kamprag sa pugaran aron dili makaduol ang manghuhugpa sa mga itlog. Ug ang halas misunod sa nalisang nga si Buntog.

Pwerting paningkamot sa pugo og dagan aron dili lamang matukob sa halas. Milupad dayon siya paingon sa katubhan. Mura gayod og nagbinugnuay ang panagginukdanay ni Buntog ug sa halas. Apan, ang halas wala gihapun mobiya sa paggukod kaniya.

Kinahanglan ko pang lumloman ang akong mga itlog, hunahuna ni Buntog samtang gabaragbarag na og dagan.

Og sa dihang hapit na matukob sa halas si Buntog, kalit lang nga milukso si Kamprag sa atubangan niya. Ang atensyon sa halas nabalhin kang Kamprag. Milukso dayon pag-usab si Kamprag palayo ni Buntog. Nakasabot si Buntog sa buot ipabuhat ni Kamprag kaniya.

Dali-daling mibalik si Buntog sa iyang pugaran. Apan sa pag-abot niya sa gikahimutangan sa mga itlog, nagkatag nga layang dahon sa tubo nalang ang iyang naabtan. Wala na ang iyang mga itlog. Pipila nalang unta ka adlaw ang iyang huwaton aron mapusa kini.

Minghoy nga miduol si Buntog sa iyang guba nga pugaran. Igo nalang sa pagtan-aw sa iyang palibot ang iyang mabuhat. Nahinumdom siya sa iyang amigo nga baki nga mihalad sa iyang kinabuhi alang sa iyang mga itlog. Ug sa dihang kawad-an na sa paglaum si Buntog, usa ka pulong ang mitumaw sa iyang hunahuna. Padayon. Susama og tingog ni Kamprag sa hangin ang mihunghong kaniya.

Sa wala’y duha-duha, gikaskas dayon ni Buntog ang mga layang dahon sa tubo diha sa iyang guba nga pugaran. Human sa pipila ka minuto niyang pagkaskas, mitim-aw ang duha ka alibid nga puno og yuta. Ang iyang mga itlog! Duha ka itlog niya ang wala hinkit-i sa halas. Dalidali dayong gibalhin ni Buntog ang duha ka itlog sa bag-o nga pugaran ug gilumloman kini pagtiwas.

Twit! Twit! Twit! Milanog ang piyak sa mga piso ni Buntog. Ingon man nga nagmaya ang katubhan sa pagkapusa sa iyang duha ka itlog.

Human sa makadaghang higayong hapit maangkon sa mga manghuhugpa ang iyang mga itlog, nagmalampuson na gayud si Buntog sa iyang tinguha nga ipapiso ang iyang mga itlog. Karon, naa na sa atubangan ni Buntog ang iyang duha ka piso. Nag-isig lumbaanay kini og kat-on sa paglakaw.

Salamat Kamprag, pamulong ni Buntog samtang galantaw siya sa katubhan.

Note: This is an original story by Red Phantom.

 

Soul Portal

Close those eyes

They’re tired

Have rest

Then you’ll see

Eyes are not made

To make one see

Rather to make us realize

Eyes are made

To appreciate beauty.

Note: This is an original poem by Red Phantom.

Memories of a Box

Six years had passed…

Small steps, big strides, yells – Ms. Ballot Box can only hear all of these through the small holes in the window. Then again,

she hears footsteps coming back and forth towards her room but they never did go inside the room. She peeks through the

window and looks at the people outside. All of them are busy. They are all on the work for the day’s risky event. A person

comes and passes by. She shouts, but it seems that she is the only one to notice her presence.

Her eyes sag and then she goes back to where she is situated minutes before. She now looks at her surroundings. The room

is dark. It is empty. She is empty.

Ms. Ballot Box then slowly reaches for a paper and a pen on the table next to her. She puts herself in place and then starts

writing.

Dear Electorates,
The first time the Commission on Elections handed down to me the duties to secure your country’s future, I
panicked. I had apprehension in performing the job but then I had no other choice. I had to accept the responsibility
– the responsibility which is now stripped off me.
In the very first place, I know how important the Election Day is. I know how it feels to vote for the candidate you
hoped to make your country better, because I was always your sole witness. I know how long you have yearned for a
good election and I also witnessed how you were disheartened because never once did it happen. Despite the facts
that your goals have failed so many times, I had never left you in your struggle for your children’s future.
But now, look at me. You have cast axes on my back. I am now here in this corner, alone and filled with nothing.
I am completely empty. I will never be able to feel the same feeling I used to have. The joy and fear of carrying your
votes from the precincts to the COMELEC’s office is now gone. How I missed doing such a job! How I missed to serve
you, my countrymen!
I could still recall the times that I was treated more than a celebrity. No, more than a president. I had all of you
always by my side. Your attention was always mine. And whenever anyone would try to steal me from your watchful
eyes you never hesitated to fight, even if it would cost you your life.
But, in a blink, I was replaced. When that photocopier-looking alien came to invade your minds you never
hesitated to replace me. You didn’t even know if he really counted your votes correctly, or if he could really count for
that matter.
Never once had I forsaken you. I had my duties done with utmost care and dedication. Was that machine greater
than I? I won’t accept him as my rival because he had proved nothing and there’s nothing good in him. He had
never served you once before. Only now!
Look at that machine closely. How could you put your trust on him? He is an outlandish.
Look at me. I am still the same ballot box you’ve been with since 1907. All throughout those years, I have served
you more than you have protected me. All throughout those years I have asked nothing from you in exchange of
my service. Now, it seems that I am the only one aware of the merit I deserve. I want to be a part of your country’s
future. Not in your history.
 

Yours,
Ms. Ballot Box

Ms. Ballot Box folds the paper and slowly inserts it into the hole on top of her head. Then, as the pen rolls away, Ms. Ballot

Box gently closes her eyes. Teardrops ran down on the metallic container.

Note: This is an original story by Red Phantom.

Black Smoke

Before Benigno “Noynoy” Aquino, III became the

President of the Republic of the Philippines, the

media and the Filipino people bombarded him

with criticisms. One of them was his “heavy”

smoking.

Being the person who now holds the highest position in this

country, P-Noy could not simply say that smoking is his coping

mechanism against stresses and pressures. Smoking, as experts

say, is not a healthy way to deal with stress. It puts a great

deal of risk on anyone’s health and P-Noy is not exempted.

The president’s health is certainly of great importance to the

country. Its future depends greatly on him.

There are lots of other reasons why P-Noy should curve, if

not stop, his smoking habit. First, there is “Tobacco Regulation

Act of 2003” or also known as Republic Act No. 9211. That act

regulates the use of Tobacco products. This does not excuse

the president, of course. If he continues to smoke and does

it conspicuously, instead of becoming the role model of the

young Filipinos, he would set himself as the first violator of the

said law.

Memorandum Circular No. 17 Series of 2009 of the Civil

Service Commission of the Philippines stipulated that “smoking

shall be absolutely prohibited in or on the premises, buildings

and grounds of government agencies providing health,

education and/or social welfare and development.” The said

policy is in accordance to Republic Act 9211 and Article 8 of

World Health Organization Framework Convention on Tobacco

Control. The policy defined a “smoking area” as “located in

an open space”, and should not be “located within 10 meters

of entrances, exits or where people congregate”. As a result,

the Presidential Security Group will have a hard time securing

P-Noy every time he decides to smoke.

The seventh guideline of the same policy also stipulated

the prohibition of smoking in government vehicles. This

means the president is not allowed to smoke while using the

Mercedes-Benz W221 S-Class, the BMW E38 750iL, the Chevrolet

Suburvan, and also even the “First Car” which he used during

the presidential inauguration day.

In his inaugural speech his excellency mentioned: “Ang

layunin ko sa buhay ay simple lang: maging tapat sa aking mga

magulang at sa bayan bilang isang marangal na anak, mabait na

kuya, at MABUTING MAMAMAYAN.” A good citizen “respects the

environment and does not damage it in any way” and “obeys

the law and rules, even when no one is watching”. Smoking

certainly isn’t one habit a good citizen should have. P-Noy’s

decision not to quit sniffing nicotine is contrary to his words.

Quoting again from his inaugural speech: “Sisikapin kong

maging isang mabuting EHEMPLO.” This is what the youth and

the smokers need today. However, he failed to become the

prime advocate to lessen the daily death of 240 Filipinos caused

by tobacco-related diseases.

Even Vice-President Jejomar Binay and Former President

Fidel Valdez Ramos are critical on P-Noy’s smoking image.

Former President Ramos even offered P-Noy a sort of solution

by saying he was able to kick away his nicotine addiction

through “self-discipline and sheer determination”. Other

personalities also had the same call. In fact, Executive Director

Dr. Maricar Limpin of the Framework Convention on Tobacco

Control Alliance (FCA) in Philippines advised P-Noy to undergo

smoking cessation therapy. FCA also offered programs to help

him cope with the side effects of sniffing one pack or 20 sticks

of cigarettes a day. He could always go for this option if he is

really willing to care for his health. We know this would entail a

lot of sacrifices. His decision to quit sniffing nicotine is, among

others, also a test of his political will, self-determination, and

discipline.

P-Noy is not an ordinary citizen of the Philippines anymore.

He is now the country’s President. Whether he likes it or not, his

decision to end his smoking habit will leave a great impact on

the entire nation.

The Silhouette

You’re a mythical figure

No eyes

No mouth

No nose

Please stop

Come no more

You’re not of my kind

I know

I can’t make you halt

But deep in my heart

I know

You’re killing my time.

Note: This is an original poem by Red Phantom.