At 22, Putu is the youngest of the staff that cares for the Bali house. He is invariably happy and full of good will. He dashes around the villa whether cleaning floors, making beds, running up to open the front gate or serving breakfast. He’s always ready to serve with puppy-like eagerness. Everyone who comes to the villa, whether for an hour or a week, falls in love with Putu. He possesses an elf-like, unselfconscious, pure innocence that disarms and attracts all.
Last week I was teasing him about something and he actually blushed deep red through his medium tan complexion. I didn’t know it was possible for a Balinese to turn red. We all laughed when I told them I spent my entire childhood blushing with embarrassment over anything and everything. With a name like Bardwick, I was seated alphabetically, always at the front of the classroom. My nickname was “red ears” because I was always blushing. All the rest of the class could see was my bright red ears from behind when I blushed.
This week there was a deep sadness in his eyes that made it seem he was near tears hour after hour. Never having seen this side of him before, I was concerned. “Putu, what’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing, I’m OK,” Putu responded shyly. “Putu, what happened?” “Nothing, Pak David.”
Well, my blushing Bali boy was sad. Talking through his shyness, he told me his sister just became engaged this week and was leaving home. There are just the two children in his family and girls move to the husband’s home. Boys, especially the youngest son, stay with their parents and bring their wives to the family compound after marriage.
Putu was losing his sister next month. Not only was he losing his best friend, but also this meant there is no one to help his Mom with offerings and other home duties. An extended-family compound cannot be managed with only one woman. The only solution was for Putu to get married, as soon as possible. Seeing his suffering and realizing the problem, I asked, “Are you ready to get married Putu?” “Nooooo!!” “Soon?” “Nooooo!” “Five years?” “Maybe.” “Now what?” “I don’t know. I’m still a boy!”
