Dinner Table Crime

His initial encounter with sharp tools began with his father's complaints at the dining table when he was just 9 years old. Salman vividly remembers the irritated expression on his father's face, simply because the fried shallots served alongside other dishes did not crunch in his mouth. "It feels like chewing raw mushrooms," his father muttered before hastily spitting out his bite through a narrow gap in the side window. The slices of shallots were too thick, and more critically, the size of each slice was inconsistent. The level of frying did not penetrate to the innermost layer. The golden hue was imperfect; some were more aptly described as black—due to being burnt—rather than golden yellow. The main cause of the complaint was trivial; the kitchen knife used by his mother to slice the shallots had become dull.

That night, Salman was asked by his mother to learn how to sharpen a kitchen knife. Very carefully, his mother placed the flat metal on the whetstone, applying slight pressure on the blade's edge. Then, she began to slide it from bottom to top. Initially, her hand movements were slow and appeared to be quite measured. However, as time went on, they became faster, as if his mother could no longer wait to achieve maximum sharpness. The sound of the blade scraping against the surface of the whetstone was somewhat distracting from the brief tutorial on how to quickly sharpen a knife. "After scraping for 12 minutes with the basic technique I demonstrated, run your thumb over several parts of the blade," she said. "If you feel like you're touching grains of sand, it means your knife is perfectly sharp. Do you understand?" Salman nodded and did not prolong the tutorial with any questions.

Salman only needed a few self-training sessions according to that brief guide before he was crowned as the best knife sharpener in their small family. After receiving that title, Salman never forgot his mother's advice regarding the pressure of the hand while sharpening a knife. If the friction is too fast, the pressure of the hand on the body of the knife can become uncontrollable. The blade can slip and injure your fingers. Warnings about finger safety when sharpening kitchen knives usually arise after the mother faces her father's complaints at the dining table. This could be due to the imprecise slices of carrots in the soup bowl, the tomato slices being too thick and unappealing to the eye, or the mango peels being jagged like rat bite marks.

Naila, Salman's younger sister, sometimes finds it difficult to accept her father's complaints while they are having dinner. One time she told Salman that the constant grumbling at the dining table due to unappetizing dishes could crush their mother's feelings. "It feels more painful than the sting in mother's eyes when she is slicing onions," Naila expressed. It has become a common sight for the siblings to see their mother slicing onions in their small kitchen. She appears so calm, as if nothing is happening, while she is actually enduring the sting in her eyes. The tears that fall from their mother may no longer be solely due to the onions she is slicing, but rather for reasons that are far more serious.

You won't be a knife sharpener forever, Salman! Someday, you'll have your own kitchen.

That is why Naila repeatedly reminded their family to immediately buy an onion slicer. Its sharpness can last a long time. The thickness of the slices can be adjusted as desired. Mother's kitchen work, especially in the matter of slicing cooking ingredients, will be lighter. "You will not always be a kitchen knife sharpener, Salman! Later, you will have your own kitchen," said Naila, reassuring her brother.

Although the father's complaints at the dining table may subside over the years, as the kitchen knife remains sharp thanks to Salman, the skilled sharpener, when the eldest son must venture far to pursue his future, those small incidents recur. Allegedly, it is no longer merely the slices of onion that, when fried, do not become crispy enough to produce a crunching sound in the father's mouth—because the kitchen knife has become dull again—but there are actually other reasons that can easily ignite his anger.

As reported by Naila to Salman, their father did not hesitate to bring fried shallots from the home of a woman. In a very arrogant manner, he dismissed the fried shallots made by their mother, praising the deliciousness of the fried shallots made by that woman instead. Their father was also very enthusiastic about comparing the symmetry of the slices of chayote in a bowl of vegetables, which he again brought from the young woman's kitchen. In front of Naila, their father even proclaimed that he would eventually leave that house due to the unresolved issue of the fried shallots.

Even if the kitchen knife is sharpened, mother will not use it to slice onions, but to slaughter the woman. Understand?

“Didn’t you once have a theory that their problems could be solved with an onion slicer? Why didn’t you implement it immediately?” Salman asked, curious.

"The problem is no longer fried onions, Salman!"

“Even if the kitchen knife is sharpened, I will not use it to slice onions, but to slaughter that woman. Understand?”

“Just so you know, they’re on the verge of divorce! Aren’t you interested in going home to save their relationship?”

"Sorry, Naila. I'm only good at sharpening knives!"

Years since Salman's last dinner at his childhood home, he also learned from Naila that they never had the onion slicer that her sister had repeatedly suggested. Even though the only people left in the house were Naila, her husband, and their two children, the traditional kitchen knife was still the mainstay for slicing ingredients. Salman also could not be sure whether Naila had inherited the basic knife sharpening technique from their late mother. He only had time to go home for his mother's funeral, who died before her sentence was up. She was sentenced to six years in prison for attempted murder, with evidence of a kitchen knife. Since the bloody incident that occurred at the dining table, their father left and chose to live with a woman who was said to be very good at slicing onions.

Sorry, Naila. I'm only good at sharpening knives!

Although they have been separated for a long time, the siblings occasionally still exchange news through conversations on a messaging application. Their discussions sometimes touch upon Naila's household, which seems to be on the verge of collapse.

“His emotions are getting out of control, Salman!” complained Naila, “he doesn’t even hesitate to shout at me in front of the children.”

“What’s the reason this time, Nail?” asked Salman, surprised.

“How trivial! Just because my fried onions don’t crunch in his mouth.”

Salman did not know whether, when mentioning the fried onions that were not crispy in her husband's mouth, Naila was imagining small events from decades ago at their childhood dining table. More precisely, it was the complaints of their father towards their mother, due to the slices of onion that were too thick and tasted like chewing raw mushrooms. The repeated complaints eventually made her accustomed to dealing with kitchen knives and sharpening stones.

“Naila, didn’t you ever learn how to slice onions from your late mother?”

“When was the last time you sharpened your kitchen knife?”

“Do you still have the whetstone there?”

Their conversation paused for a moment. Naila did not know which question she should answer first. Meanwhile, Salman could not sit still. He quickly took a kitchen knife, which he sharpened every weekend, as taught by his late mother. He planned to send the knife to the address of their childhood home, as a wedding anniversary gift for Naila, his only younger sister. Salman hoped that Naila would use the high-quality kitchen knife truly for slicing onions, not for stabbing someone.

Depok, 2025

Damhuri Muhammad, writer. Founder of Porch Literary Magazine. He writes fiction, art essays, and cultural columns in national and international media. His short story, "The Last Portrait Photo Folder", was selected for the 2023 Pushcart Prize nomination (a literary award institution for minor label publishing in the United States). His microfiction work entitled "Early Morning" has been published in an anthology with the title SWITCH: Anthology of Microfiction (June 2024), by Gallery of Readers, a publisher that concerns with short fiction, based in Massachusetts, United States. Damhuri can be greeted on his Twitter account (X) @damhurimuhammad.

Nano Warsono, artist, academic, and art activist. Has participated in several national and international art exhibitions and projects. Lives and works in Yogyakarta, is a lecturer at the Faculty of Fine Arts ISI Yogyakarta and Director of the RJ Katamsi Gallery. Currently, his work is being exhibited in the Netherlands under the title Past-Present: Art Schools in Indonesia.