Kotaku dari Mataku- Dua: Pak Pemulung

Beberapa helai putih rambutnya, membuat kepalanya tampak abu-abu dari jauh. Selalu bertopi dengan posisi tidak benar. Agak miring ke samping. Seolah topi dipakainya tergesa tiap hari, tanpa berkaca. Jalan miring-terseoknya menjadikannya terlihat rapuh. Hampir tiap hari kita berpapasan. Kau dan karung besar di punggungmu itu. Karung, dua kali ukuran tubuhmu. Seberat apa kah? Cukup berat untuk bikinku khawatir kau akan terjungkal dengan karung penuh sesak itu. Pakaianmu tak pernah rapi. Kumal. Berantakan. Aku mengharapkan apa? Orang berpakaian necis yang mengorek-ngorek tempat sampah?

Adakah kau istirahat, Pak? Kita belum pernah berpapasan dalam keadaanmu melepas lelah. Selalu kerja. Entah mengangkat karung besar di punggung. Entah mengorek-ngorek tempat sampah. Tidak pagi, tidak siang, tidak sore, tidak malam. Kau pegang itu karung dan gancu. Ah, ya, pernah kau duduk agak santai. Musim rambutan. Jual rambutan bersama istri. Musim rambutan jadi sering duduk santai, ya? Ingat basa-basiku waktu beli rambutanmu? Kau terbata seperti anak SD belajar bicara. Aku tak jadi banyak tanya karena tak sanggup cerna maksudmu.

Barangkali besok kita papasan lagi? Aku tak sanggup beri apapun. Cuma simpati yang kupunya. Pasalnya kau sering curiga dengan tatapku.

Kotaku dari Mataku - Satu : Dari Bus Kota

“Mengamati kotaku tanpa perlu mendapat jawaban darinya. Menghiasi kumpulan memori dengan praduga sepihak. Merangkai memori dan praduga itu dengan rantai-rantai imajinasi. Maka jadilah sebuah: tulisan berisi fragmen-fragmen realita kota yang dibumbui praduga-praduga dan disajikan dengan sedikit fiksi. Memberi ruang untuk bermain pilah memilah; mana fakta, mana praduga, dan mana fiksi. Saya begitu cinta padamu, metafor. Memberi ruang buatku untuk jadi egois dan seenak perutku. Kapan lagi? Menjadi bebas menelanjangi diri tanpa menjadi telanjang? Tertutupi beragam interpretasi yang sesukanya muncul ke permukaan. Harus. Rela diadili. ”

Dari Bus Kota



Pagi hari, kepala pusing, seperti ramalanku. Tidur subuh karena kopi, sama dengan energi berlebih, sama dengan kesadaran terbatas. Kopi, minuman nikmat yang sayangnya tak bersahabat dengan tubuh. Kepala pusing, jantung berdegup cepat, efek buruk yang mesti ditanggung kalau bala tentara kafein menyatakan perang dengan badan. Duduk di bus kota menambah pusing kepala. Tidak hanya kopi. Kendaraan bermesin roda empat, juga musuh tubuh. Aku seperti lahir dengan bakat mabuk daratan. Maka benci adalah wajar jika naik kendaraan darat roda empat macam ini. Bus kota, apalagi. Jalan lelet, sering penuh sesak, siang = panas, rawan copet, guncangan ampuh yang buat perut mual. Adalah keadaan yang memaksaku berteman karib dengannya. Tidak di Palembang, tidak di Jogja, bus kota adalah penghantar yang terpaksa setia. Masih pagi, jalanan padat. Ini hari minggu. Wajah-wajah penumpang yang acuh di bus kota. Pandangan-pandangan yang dilemparkan ke segala arah. Dua orang pemudi di belakang yang mencolok dengan keriuhannya. Gosip-gosip yang ujung pangkalnya hanya mereka yang tahu. Ibu-ibu di depanku dengan sayurannya. Meminta supir berhenti. Menyerahkan beberapa lembar uang, buru-buru turun. Pak supir menceracau, uang yang diberi kurang. Dengan rengut di wajah, terus melaju.


Lampu merah. Di sana, di pinggir jalan, seorang bapak paruh baya memegang setumpuk koran. Menjajakan koran pada orang-orang di atas kendaraan. Dengan topi dan rompi kuningnya. Mengenakan kaki palsu. Tak lama berjaja, lalu duduk di pinggir jalan, membenarkan kaki palsu. Lampu sebentar lagi hijau. Karena itu ia minggir. Kaki palsu sungguhan. Apa ini di hatiku? Simpati? Bukan iba. Bukan acuh. Kepolosan semburat wajahnya kah? Kau nikmatikah pekerjaanmu, Pak? Berjualan koran di paruh baya? Kegigihan dan kejujuran yang jelas menempa wajamu kah? Tak ada pembenaran akan satu kakimu pantas diberi salut. Sedang ada yang minta-minta dalam kebugarannya. Kekagumanku mesti berakhir. Bus segera berlari. Maka jadilah potret bapak penjual koran berkaki buntung terekam sempurna di kepalaku. Tak ada pertanyaan, tak ada pembelaan yang harus aku atau kau lontarkan soal keadaanmu, Pak. Bapak, sempurna sebagai seorang gigih, kurang dari lima menit. Selamat bapak, Anda orang beruntung yang menghadiahi saya inspirasi di Minggu pagi, dan nilai, dan pesan, tanpa saya tahu keapaanmu.

POVERTY IS NOT A PICTURE, POVERTY IS NOT DESTINY

Essay yang diikutsertakan ke PBI's Writing Competition, tapi tidak menang. Hehe. Kurang data kayaknya ni... maka kelihatan seperti berspekulasi...

Some people have a very luxurious house, some others have no house. Some students taste the best education include its great facility, many children have to work and can’t feel study in school. Pride buildings stand next to dirty district. Social difference is very big in this country.

Poverty can be seen from some points of view. From social sight, poverty can be defined as a condition of slipped away from social, dependence, powerless to participate in society. From economical sight, poverty is a condition where someone can’t full fill their own fundamental necessary, such as clothes, food, home, and healthy service. Social poverty is usually differed from economical poverty. Politically, poverty is an economic condition under boundary line of economy.

In this country, although some people have passed the boundary line of economy, even pass it far, there are still so many people live improper as human being. There are still many homeless man, many children and old people have to work, many people die of starvation or diseases, the number of unemployment is still high.
While the cases of poverty are going complex, education becomes very difficult to be reached. 19 percents kids in school age don’t study and choose to work. The reason is cost of education which is too high. The poor can’t solve their poverty problem because they don’t have chance to get knowledge and ability to change their condition. The worst is some people still think that their poverty is their destiny so they think there’s nothing can be done to solve their poverty. It doesn’t mean that they like their condition. This stereotype can be caused by no chance for them to get appropriate education.

Although some people fight for the rights of the poor, students demonstrate for the minority, but it seems no something significant happens. (BBM) fuel‘s price increase drastically and government don’t give constructive solution of that. BLT in the end just gives new problem. The data of the poor in Indonesia which is not accurate causes many knaveries happens. Chance of corruption is getting bigger because this allowance involves many organizers, from the center until RT level. We hear the news. We hear people died because they queued for BLT, we hear some people who really need BLT don’t get their rights because the data given is not accurate.
Health becomes something really expensive. Many children died of bad nutrition, starvation, and other diseases. Poverty card should be useful for poor people to get easiness access of health, but often it is not as useful as its function.

Natural disasters and other disasters in some areas also cause poverty. Victims of Lapindo don’t get adequate compensation. People can’t predict natural disaster but at least people can do something to reduce that. While the victims are waiting for help, corruption still happens. Allowance for the victims of natural disaster is still corrupted. People still corrupt while other people are dying. In 2007 Indonesia is the fifth most corrupted country in the world. Corruption becomes structural sin. Some others even say that corruption has been culture. How come the immoral thing like corruption is considered as culture? This statements show us how common corruption happens nowadays in our country.

Poverty seems to be only picture and nothing can be done to solve that. The poor seem to deserve to be poor. Some people connect poverty problem with laziness. If the poor don’t have chance and access to get knowledge, ability, and health, what else can be done? But actually many of them even work harder than us. They often use their body energy more than people who work with rely on their brain. Some individuals who have power and authority don’t use what they have to help instead make them selves richer. Easiness to get access is getting smaller for the poor.

Poverty is not destiny. Nobody is born to be poor. Free cost of education will make the burden of the poor smaller. All they need is chance. Socialization of this fundamental aspect has been done in Cuba. Indonesia actually ever did it in Old Era. The result was, in this era Indonesia could send teachers to other countries, sent students to study aboard, and sent workers to solve illiteracy in some areas of this country. Number of students of educational institution increased. Worked in education was considered as pride job. Education is the back bone of the country. This country can develop and leave poverty if the people are smart and independent. Knowledge which is gotten from education will make somebody independent. It will be easier for somebody to get job if they has ability and knowledge.

However, nowadays, knowledge and ability are not enough if there are no chances of work. Unemployment is one of the problem causes poverty. They need chance to work also. Increase of fuel price shouldn’t be that hard if the poor are given jobs. If they are only given money, when will they be independent? Small industries can be developed and absorb workers. Capital addition for small industries can help them to develop. Agriculture is also good aspect to be developed. Beside it can absorb worker, it also can increase food production. This country doesn’t need to import rice just like what is going on. Indonesia is a very rich country with its natural resources. It is very ironic if we are still import rice and our farmers’ rice is bought with very low price. Privatization of strategic factories in this country causes reduction of salary of workers and laborers because the shares of the factory are sold cheaply. Maybe this gives profit for capitalists, but our laborers don’t get what they deserve. Many products of factories are sold expensively while the laborers are paid really cheaply. The rules of the privatization need to be observed.

Health becomes another problem. Dirty district becomes reason of many diseases. The poor can’t get good nutrition because they don’t eat nutritious food. Even it has been very hard for them to eat regularly every day. This condition is going worse because they can’t get health facility. Poverty card is not always useful. Health facility is just for them who can pay for that. It is not fair. The baby of the poor who has the same disease with the baby of the rich often doesn’t get the same service. We also need free health facility for the poor.

Corruption has started to be acted although many times our corruptors don’t get what they deserve. Bribery still can save them in some cases. The moral of this country is the root of the problem. Actually this moral education should be grown since we were young. Family and school are the basic of this education. The execution of rules needs to be confirmed more.

Poverty can be solved if the government and the people want to fight for that seriously. Poverty can be more than just a picture which is only can be watched. Poverty is really happening around us. We can change that. We can do something for that together. Many countries such as Cuba, Venezuela, and Bolivia have started to change their condition. We should also change poverty problem in this country. As student the real thing can be done is find out about what’s going on. Every thing is started from our self. We need to fill our brain with knowledge about poverty, why it happens and how to solve it. We can also write about awareness of poverty because it has been many media to express people’s opinion nowadays. If we have had knowledge about that, we can use our knowledge someday when we have already had power to solve poverty. It is said that unjustified condition happens not only because the bad people act, but also because the good people is silent.

THE STREET

VOCABULARY
Sabina Thipani (081214032)

A little girl was sitting in a plain-small-wooden chair which was put in front of her home. She was staring at the night sky. There were no stars tonight. No, there were no stars almost every night. The smoke from the factories chimneys in the town never let them show their light. Only some stars which still could shine this night.
She was a thin girl with brown skin. Her black hair had turned to reddish because of the heat of the sun ray. She sang her songs every day under the heat of the sun with her small guitar among the luxurious cars in the traffic light. She knows she was not good enough in playing that small guitar, but some people said they like her voice. Mas Topo had thought her how to play that guitar for about a year ago. A year ago when her father was fired because of something that she never know exactly. All she knows was her father loved her and her mother. Maybe the factory where her father worked didn’t know that, she often thought. Maybe they didn’t know that now her father had to work harder than before. Maybe they didn’t know that her father was a very nice people. Her father always told her to be an honest girl. Maybe they didn’t know that her father wouldn’t disappoint them. Her father always told her to respect people. Maybe they didn’t know that she had to work in the street because father didn’t work in factory anymore.
“Why don’t you tell them about us, Dad? That I have to work now, that I can’t buy the books anymore, that mother now sleeps lately because she has to work as a chip seller. Maybe they will understand,” she asked her father.
“No little girl, they don’t really understand,” father answered.
Oh, what do they need, then? She thought. Ah, maybe there were better people than father.
“You will understand someday,” her father said again. “That’s why you have to be a smart girl.”
“You don’t have to sing every day, Honey. Or if you have bored you can stop to sing,” her mother said while she was stroking her hair. Her mother was no spring chicken.
“No, Mom. I like to help you and Dad, but I just don’t understand why Dad can’t work in the factory anymore. Beside I really want to have books to school.”
The conversation a couple of months ago appeared again that night. She was in the 3th grade of Elementary School. She was a little girl but unfortunately the problem she had to face was not as little as her age. A doll was not the most important dream for her any more. She wanted to be a smart girl just like her father said.
The night was deeper. The wind which blows gently made the night was getting colder. The little girl felt sleepy. She came to her home after her mother called her to come in. She was actually so tired. She went home at 1 p.m. from school today. Then she sang in the street again till the sky turned orange.
She often thought if the people really listen to her voice or not. Sometimes they gave her money before she sang or before she finished her song. That’s not bad, she thought. But honestly, she prefers if people heard she sings first then gave her money.
She came to her small room and went to bed. Her thin mattress didn’t mind to support her thin body. She closed her eyes. Let her tiredness dulled together with her slower breath. Tomorrow she had to study again to be a smart girl her father wanted, to sing to help her parents, sing with Anto and Tina. While the darkness was covering her, she thought about Anto. He never tasted study in school. He often asked her how it felt to study in school. She finally slept tighter.

***

A young girl was walking slowly through the stores in a mall. She was about 16 years old. She had walked for about two hours. She seemed didn’t feel tired. Her tiredness was covered by her passion to find the dress she wanted. She finally found a store, like boutique. She saw a wonderful, legged, sleeved, open-necked, red dress.
An hour latter she had sat in a food court, waiting for the fast food she ordered five minutes ago. She was not alone now. She was sitting with her friends which all were girls. They were four. She was wearing black short with red shirt and sandals in her foot. Her black hair was totally smooth. She had done cream bath yesterday.
The room where she sits was really comfortable. The brown table in front of her was glancing. The sofa where she sat was really soft and elastic. Air conditioner didn’t let her felt hot. The (perfumed) of the room was really fresh.
It seemed that she didn’t felt the comfort at all. She felt tired, sleepy, and really hungry.
“O, God. Why is it too long? I could eat a horse!” she finally spoke what her stomach meant.
“This place is not good enough, isn’t it?” her friend with the tank top responded her.
“Well, yeah. I’m really hungry,” she said.
“How is your hunt? Did you find the dress you wanted?” another friend of her who had curly hair asked her enthusiastically.
“Oh, yes of course. I am always the first than all of you in fashion,” she said arrogantly. Her friends were just smiling each other. They aren’t really simpatico to her. If that was not because she was rich and had money to pay all of their clothes and food, they would leave her soon. She never appreciated people and thought that she was every thing.
“How much is the dress?” the girl who had kept silent finally spoke.
“Cheap. Eight hundred IDR,” she answered. “If it was not because Lena invited us suddenly and gave me very short time to buy dress, I would buy the better one,” she spoke something annoying again.
“Or the more expensive one?” the girl with the tank top licked.
Thirty minutes later, they had finished their lunch. They ate like birds, left the plate more than half food. Every girl did that, they thought. The “central girl” left the money on the table above the (bond). Two thousand IDR for the wasted food.
The super power girl and the flatterer were walking out of the restaurant but they never walked out from the material world.

***
The night was getting dark but the little girl didn’t want to go home now. She walked in the sidewalk. The cars which competed with the motorcycles to full fill the road had passed two hours ago. The traffic wasn’t loaded any more. She felt so tired. Her leg had been so stiff.
“I wanted to buy the books tomorrow,” she thought. She was satisfied by the money she got today.

***

She had been waiting for fifteen minutes. She felt very upset. “Why is she so long?” The beauty in her face was dull by her anger. The girl who had been waited finally came out and went to the car.
The light of the road was passed fast from the car. They were in a hurry. The party began five minutes more and they were still fifteen minutes from the place where the party was held. The girl with the red dress was driving the car. The road was empty. The traffic light would turn into red five seconds more but they were too far to pass the green light. She volatilized the gas. But suddenly unexpected figure appeared two meters in front of her car. She couldn’t control her car. She clashed the figure. She finally could stop the car but it was too late. The figure had fallen through the side of the car. She was shocked. She was in a pickle. She really wanted to go to the party. She had been waited for a long time. She had lost many things, much energy, and much power. Now the figure was fallen powerless beside her car. She didn’t know what to do.

***

The tough woman was waiting in the door. Her little girl hadn’t come back. Usually she had come home two hours ago. Her husband touched her solder.
“Don’t worry honey, she is strong,” he said.
“I will go there to find her,” she said. She was panic.
“Let me do that. Just wait here,” her husband finally left her in the door. She was staring at the night sky. There were no stars tonight. No, there were no stars almost every night. The smoke from the factories chimneys in the town never let them show their light. Only some stars which still could shine this night.

***

Bernafas dengan Absurditas di Malam Minggu

Malam ini, kutanggalkan semua obsesiku. Tak bersentuhan dengan penghakiman yang paling kejam buat diriku; diriku sendiri. Tenggelam dalam-dalam di lautan melankolisku. Sedang mengagumi sosok yang tak kunyana absurdnya. Seperti berkaca aku, membaca tulisannya. Dengan kemelankolisan tulisan itulah aku berkompensasi. Betapa menghibur mengetahui aku bukan satu-satunya makhluk di bumi yang melihat hidup dari sisi ini. Dan pada ketakjuban ini aku berhenti, supaya sosok itu tetap sempurna seperti ini; tetap sempurna sebagai sosok yang rapuh, melankolis, absurd, dan kesepian. Hai kau orang yang merasa absurd, tahukah kau juga bisa membuatku absurd? Dan maafkan jika kau hanya jadi kompensasi. Toh mustahil aku bisa tahu kau lebih jauh. Maka diam di sana, dan tetap jadi sempurna. Sempurna persisnya denganku. Ini bukan hanya soal kemungkinan bahwa aku tak akan mengenalmu, tapi juga karena aku telah ucapkan selamat datang buat kawan sinisme. Lagi pula mengenalmu akan membuatku merasa berdosa di kemudian hari karena menjadikanmu kompensasi seperti malam ini. Hanya ucapan terima kasih -yang tentu akan langsung lenyap ditelan udara malam-, buatmu yang menghiburku di kehampaan ini. Lenyap, tak akan sempat tersampaikan padamu. Kata-kata absurdmu itu menjadi seperti pemakluman akan kelemahan-kelemahanku. Pemakluman yang tak akan kutelan mentah-mentah jadi pembenaran. Hampir sama rasanya ketika ibu memintaku untuk tidak mengerjakan pekerjaan rumah terlalu keras, sedang aku masih merasa aku belum melakukan yang terbaik. Hampir sama rasanya dengan belaian yang diberikan ibu ketika aku merasa sangat lelah, namun tak kunjung selesai pekerjaanku.


Ngomong-ngomong soal ibu, aku rindu rumah. Jika kecoa bisa menggodaku dengan ejekan-ejekan adikku, dan atau cicak bisa memandangku dengan penuh perhatian tanpa penghakiman layaknya ibu memandangku, dan atau nyamuk bisa memperingatkanku dengan gigitan nasehat ayahku, mungkin aku tak bakal serindu ini. Hah, tetaplah kalian bergerak seturut naluri kalian hewan-hewan menyebalkan di kamarku. Kalian tak akan pernah pantas menggantikan keluargaku. Maaf cacing kamar mandi, kalian tidak kuharapkan punya kesadaran. Kalian sudah cukup menjijikkan dengan geliat instingtif kalian itu. Jika ada hewan lain selain kecoak yang bisa lebih kuharapkan untuk menggantikan adikku, itu juga pasti sudah kulakukan sejak tadi. Sayangnya hanya itu hewan-hewan yang akrab dengan aktivitas kamarku.


Sesorean ini aku merenungkan bola kaca kerapuhan yang selalu kubawa kemana pun aku pergi. Ah, kurasa bola kaca itulah yang selalu mengikutiku. Ia membutuhkan orang yang sama rapuh dengannya untuk menjaganya, atau lebih baik lagi, berteman dengannya. Karena udara dan musim telah dan akan keras padanya. Aku tak percaya ia akan bisa berdekatan dengan benda lain yang kuat, kokoh, atau tajam. Itu hanya akan melukainya. Aku telah menghabiskan begitu banyak energiku untuk menjaga dan memperbaiki kehancuran-kehancuran bola kaca, hingga aku sampai pada titik lelah dan muak. Kukira kerasnya cuaca akan membuatnya lebur dan lenyap, tapi ia hanya lebur dan tidak segera lenyap. Jika ia lenyap, aku rasa aku akan kehilangan diriku. Keleburannya saja sudah cukup membuatku hampa. Bola kaca kerapuhan milikku tidak buruk juga. Jika dijaga dengan baik ia bisa jadi pelarian yang efektif. Ia membuatku gampang berempati pada kehancuran. Empati ini yang selalu membuatku terjaga dan memberi daya saat aku sudah “mengantuk”. Agak merepotkan sih, menjaganya. Tapi kalau bukan aku, siapa lagi yang akan menjaganya? Dan untuk menjaganya aku harus memiliki energi ekstra, serta tameng yang lebih kuat ketimbang bola kaca kerapuhan itu sendiri, karena aku amat sinis di luar sana ada yang bisa mengertinya.


Terimakasih untuk orang absurd tak dikenal yang menginspirasi tulisan absurd ini. Sedikit ruang diberikan untukku bernafas. Melepaskan karbondioksida kelemahanku lewat tulisan dengan menghirup dalam-dalam absurditas. Sampai jumpa lagi, romantisme. Akan lama kukembali. Kalaupun cepat, kuharap kau tak akan sempat menjadi penjara. Hanya akan berhenti kau di udara, mengisi paru-paru dengan absurditas yang sama untuk ku bernafas.

Karena Aku adalah Pulau

Memungut makna,
yang kutunggu gugurnya dari dahan waktu.
Satu per satu.

Karena petang itu,
kata-kata tak lagi sanggup melarikan aku.

Begitu ingin kuterenggut dari duduk ku.
Tapi tak ada yang bergerak, kecuali udara.
Dan aku. Dan desahan nafasku. Dan sesungguk ku.

Lalu aku hanyut.
Memeluk diriku lekat-lekat bersamaku.
Kubiarkan derai mengalirkan ketakberdayaanku.

Jika sendiri adalah pasti, maka bukan ia yang melukaiku.
Adakah ia mercusuar keangkuhanku?
Hanya karena belum pernah kumenangkan terang,
maka patut aku berdarah?

Barangkali kekagumanku,
pada manusia-manusia yang berusaha menjelajahi daratan kesendirian manusia lain.
Meski di ujung jalan,
kata “amin” juga yang terucap.

Hanya aku, barangkali?
Aku dan kebiruanku yang mudah koyak.
Hanya lelahkah aku membenahi robekan-robekan ini?

Atau sungguhkah ini kau dan keapaanmu?
Daratan yang tak bisa disinggahi pun penjelajah yang terus berlayar?

Hingga kuucapkan selamat datang pada gelap sinisme.
Hingga kubiarkan diriku membeku di kutub ini.

Tak ada.
Sayangnya tak ada yang sepenuhnya patut dibenamkan.
Tak perlu.

Terus,
terus kularikan diri.
Kubiarkan berdarah.
Kubiarkan hampa membanjir-banjir.
Kupecundangi kebiruan.
Karena hidup bukanlah pembenaran kelemahan.

Terus,
Terus ku bermain air di lautnya.
Hanya titip rindu.
Barangkali bisa ditiupkan di kapal itu.
Lewat angin laut kujejalkan.
Karena rinduku terlalu sulit tersampaikan.
Kecuali kapal berlabuh membawanya turun.

Aku adalah pulau.
Manusia adalah pulau.
Cukup untuk membuatku mengerti,
berusaha menjadi kepulauan adalah kesia-siaan.
Dan langit petang ini, cukup hitam untuk kusebut hitam.

Solitude is More or Less Sexy

Maka saya urungkan niat untuk mencap Jogja memusuhi saya kemarin malam, setelah bioskop ecek-ecek dan Benteng Vredeburg menolak saya dan Mbak Sis karena “keintrovertan” mereka. Niatan untuk mencari “tempat bermain” muncul pada sore hari saat saya menemani Mbak Sis makan (makan yang secara teknis adalah makan siang, namun secara temporal bisa juga disebut makan sore-terserah saja menyebut apa-). Bioskop ecek-ecek adalah ide yang muncul di kepala Mbak Sis saat saya menanyakan ke tempat nongkrong mana kami akan menghabiskan malam. Sebagai dua orang makhluk yang menyepakati ungkapan solitude is sexy, ke-solitude-an tersebut harus dipertanggungjawabkan dengan aktivitas sexy, di tempat yang sexy pula (11 kata terakhir belum saya sepakati dengan Mbak Sis). Karena saya pun belum pernah ke tempat tersebut –bioskop ecek-ecek -, maka saya amat antusias. Tak ada film bagus, mengobjekkan orang pun jadi, pikir saya. Namun kecewa yang didapat ketika melihat bioskop ecek-ecek tutup. Entah nama bioskopnya apa dan di daerah mana. Mengingat kemampuan membaca peta dan menghapal jalan saya yang terbatas, maka dikira-kira saja lokasinya. Pembicaraan di motor dengan Mbak Sis dalam perjalanan menuju bioskop ecek-ecek adalah hal yang menarik buat saya. Pembicaraan soal “asosasi jenis musik kesukaan dengan pengalaman khusus” itu membawa saya kembali pada pengalaman masa kecil saya. Saya baru sadar kemarin alasan saya tidak suka mendengarkan musik dangdut dengan lirik sedih. Saat kecil dan melakukan perjalanan jauh dengan bus atau kereta api, musik dangdut dengan tema-tema sedih-merana (macam pisah ranjang, mimpi buruk tentang kekasih, berpisah dengan kekasih) selalu didendangkan di kendaraan-kendaraan umum tersebut. Bukanlah musiknya yang semata-mata saya kira saya benci, namun perjalanan jauhnya. Saya selalu merasa melankolis kalau harus meninggalkan rumah untuk pergi ke tempat nenek atau saudara dan sebaliknya. Saya tidak nyaman berada di lingkungan yang isinya orang-orang yang tidak saya kenal macam orang-orang baru di kendaraan tersebut. Dan tentu yang juga amat jelas adalah, saya mabuk darat. Maka saat saya mendengar lagu dangdut dengan lirik sedih, saya segera terhubung dengan suasana perjalana jauh yang tak mengenakkan. Mbak Sis sendiri menyukai musik klasik karena musik klasik mengingatkannya pada film-film eropa yang saat kecil ditontonnya di televisi. Film-film tersebut menampilkan kemapanan dan kenyamanan yang menggoda. Kemapanan dan kenyamanan demikianlah yang muncul tiap kali ia mendengarkan musik klasik. Saya rasa saya pun suka musik klasik, entah dengan asosiasi apa.

Setelah kemudian berputar-putar di jalanan yang (lagi-lagi) tidak mampu saya hafalkan rutenya, tiba-tiba kami sudah di Vredeburg saja. Niat nonton FKY pun pupus juga karena ternyata festival telah berakhir. Menjelajahi Vredeburg pun tak bisa dilaksanakan karena benteng ditutup akibat ada pertemuan penting (demikian ujar pak satpam). Kegagalan ini tak membuat saya terlampau kecewa karena ternyata ada dua orang ibu-ibu yang mengikuti kami masuk FKY dan dikecewakan juga. (Hubungan antara kecewa dan kedua ibu tersebut memang tak jelas koherensinya. Barangkali kekecewaan kolektif lebih gampang dimaklumi ketimbang kekecewaan pribadi. Pertama, jumlah empat orang terkecoh membuktikan bahwa kami tidak bodoh-bodoh amat pergi ke benteng saat festival telah tutup. Kedua, suara salah satu ibu amat menggelitik kuping saya. Entah apa yang lucu. Nah, tambah ngaco saja saya dan tambah tidak koheren saja cerita saya).

Setelah kembali berputar-putar dengan motor Mbak Sis , sampailah saya di suatu tempat yang familiar. Bukan karena saya pernah ke sana. Pohon beringin adalah klu-nya. Sahabat-sahabat di sebuah organisasi kampus berkata bahwa saat mereka berkunjung ke Makam Raja-Raja Mataram, salah satu dari mereka melakukan sesuatu dengan pohon beringin. Perlakuan terhadap pohon beringin tersebut cukup memalukan untuk dapat diingat oleh salah seorang sahabat dan kemudian diceritakan pada saya. Nah, benar, saya dan Mbak Sis ke Makam Raja-Raja Mataram. Lalu apa lagi yang diharapkan dilakukan oleh kami di sana selain ngobrol? Obrolan soal masa SMA hingga gitaris dengan gaya potong kambing jadi tema. Udara terlampau dingin membuat hidung saya yang kena flu meler, tapi tak terlampau saya hiraukan. Pembicaraan itu memberi masukan dan sudut pandang menarik soal kesexyan “solitude” dan cara-cara unik mengisinya. Selain itu, saya juga dapat tips menggiurkan untuk makan oat dengan penyajian menarik ala Mbak Sis. Tentu saja selama ini saya benci oat, wong saya selalu makan oat dengan garam atau susu saja.

Karena malam makin larut dan kos saya ada jam malam, maka pembicaraan di makam raja-raja segera diakhiri. Omong-omong, sampai pulang saya tak tahu makam raja nya ada di sebelah mana. Menuju kos, kita melihat kedai burger dan ngiler lihat gambar burgernya. Akhirnya kita memutuskan makan burger dahulu meski ternyata si burger tak terasa selezat gambarnya. (Dasar kapitalis! Menang di pencitraan saja!) Demikianlah akhir malam ditutup dengan traktiran buger dari Mbak Sis. Terimakasih atas “nyampah-nyampah”nya Mbak (ingat: junk food), juga masukan-masukan yang secara langsung maupun tak langsung memberi inspirasi buat saya.