Simfoni Malam

Malam sudah tidak lagi berbintang, ditelan oleh kelamnya bayangan. Aku terduduk diam di teras rumah yang dingin, ditemani secangkir kopi hangat dan angin sepoi yang mengusir dinginnya tiupan angin. Satu-satunya lampu di teras itu menyala dengan putihnya, seolah berupaya menjadi imitasi dari sang surya. Sangat kontras dengan kegelapan yang mengungkungku dan bangunan ini. Rumah kecil yang kutempati ini terang benderang oleh cahaya listrik, tetapi tetap saja hanya menjadi sebuah serangga kecil yang tak berdaya di tengah angkuhnya kegelapan yang menyelimuti. Bagaikan sepercik bunga api yang tak berarti.

Di depan mataku, terbentang rimbun jajaran pohon cemara yang berdesir tertiup angin. Mereka terbungkus oleh selubung pekat yang tebal, hanya samar-samar dapat kulihat pucuk-pucuk pohon itu. Siluet tak jelas yang menggambarkan langsingnya ranting-ranting cemara itu. Mereka semua berdesir tertiup angin yang menimbulkan siulan lembut, bagaikan sebuah orkestra sederhana yang membuai hati, membawakan simfoni malam hari nan lembut. Sesekali gemerisik dedaunan yang saling tergesek menghantarkan melodi-melodi spontan, mewarnai kentalnya nada-nada kegelapan.

Uap kopi berwarna kelabu bening mengepul dari cangkir kopiku, menghantarkan bau nikmat yang cukup menyengat. Ia menggelitik lubang hidungku dengan aroma khas, mengusir beban-beban yang menimbun kelopak mataku. Pelan tapi pasti, asap-asap kecil itu meliuk di udara, semakin tinggi dan semakin hilang terkena panasnya cahaya lampu. Ah, cahaya yang mengacaukan keindahan laku imajiku.
Sekelebat keinginan melayang di depan benakku. Kenangan akan gemericik sungai yang senantiasa menemaniku di kala kecil. Sungai dengan airnya yang jernih, yang menyuarakan ritme mitis penuh kedamaian. Ia membawaku seolah mengalir mengikutinya. Tanpa kusadari, suara-suara dalam benakku itu mulai berpadu dengan gemerisik dedaunan cemara. Angin yang menggerakkan ranting-ranting itu turut pula mempengaruhi kemericik aliran sungai. Pelan tapi pasti, suara cipratan air yang menghantam kerikil-kerikil kecil itu bergema pelan di relung sepi benak kepalaku. Crik! Crik! Crik! Dengan irama yang tetap, getaran-getaran ritmis di benak itu membawa suasana tenang meditative ke hadapanku.

Sebuah tangan lembut yang tak terlihat membelai kudukku. Ia begitu hangat, tapi begitu dingin di saat yang bersamaan. Desau sunyi sang angin berputar di sekeliling leherku, member kisikan lembut untuk bergabung dalam kisah simfoni malam hari. Siulannya lembut membelai rambutku, menggeser dedaunan kering yang terhampar di pekarangan rumah, semakin menambah hening suasana dengan suara keseran daun. Ia berputar pelan, berputar dalam gerakan spiral yang tidak beraturan, berupaya membentuk sebuah lingkaran sempurna, tetapi tidak berujung dan berpangkal.

Duk! Suara cangkir kopi yang kuletakkan di meja memecah nada-nada yang terjalin oleh para penguasa malam itu. Sesaat, simfoni indah yang membelai telinga itu sirna. Berhenti sejenak, menantikan langkahku selanjutnya. Perlahan tapi pasti, aku menuruni tangga kayu di depan teras, berjalan menghampiri pelukan kuat sang malam, meninggalkan cahaya yang ada di belakangku. Aku mendekati tiupan dingin yang siap menyambutku dengan seringainya, menantikan masuknya aku ke dalam kedalaman sang kelam.

Kakiku merasakan lembabnya rerumputan yang basah oleh embun malam. Rumput hijau yang kehilangan warnanya karena ditelan oleh bayangan Chandra. Mereka merentangkan daun-daunnya, membuka pelukan-pelukan kecil, menyambut sesosok makhluk dari cahaya buatan yang menuju dinginnya hembusan angin utara. Udara dingin menyambut wajahku dengan belaian-belaiannya yang membuatku menutup mata selama beberapa saat. Uap-uap air yang menari-nari di antara hamparan rumput dan hitam yang menggantung mulai memasuki hidungku, menggelitik syaraf-syaraf penciumanku dengan wanginya yang khas.

Aku melihat sosok wanita dalam kegelapan, berdiri di antara rimbunnya dahan cemara. Tapi ia menghilang dengan cepat, menyatu kembali dengan tarian yang digerakkan oleh usapan lembut sang Bayu. Mungkin hanya ilusiku saja, kegelapan senantiasa mencoba menyesatkan kita di gerbangnya dengan bayangan palsu. Itulah yang membuat manusia takut, melihat apa yang ada di luar, tidak melihat esensi dari bayangan itu. Bayangan yang tercipta justru dari adanya cahaya.

Dengan duduk bersila di hamparan rumput, aku menajamkan telingaku. BErusaha untuk kembali mendengarkan alunan simfoni malam. Tunggu, apakah ini yang dinamakan wirid? Masuk ke dalam keheningan malam dan memusatkan pikiran dengan alunan bunyi alami yang keluar dari mulut. Aku tidak perlu membuka mulutku, karena alam telah menciptakan bunyi-bunyi alaminya bagiku. Kriiik! Kriiik! Kriiiik! Nyanyian jengkerik yang cukup kencang, semakin menghantar benakku ke dalam alam kesunyian.

Tiba-tiba semua gelap, dan mataku menghilang. Aku melihat semuanya dengan jelas, melihat menembus gelapnya tirai pekat ini. Aku melihat indahnya kerlip bintang di langit, bertaburan menghiasi mahkota sang bulan yang tersenyum malu. Justru di dalam kebutaan malam, aku dapat benar-benar mengalami hangatnya tatapan sang bulan dan senyum sintal para bintang. Seolah-olah aku terbebas dari cahaya buatan manusia yang dangkal. Cahaya itu tidak akan pernah bisa menggantikan matahari yang telah menghidupi kehidupan di bumi selama berabad-abad. TIdak pula benar-benar bisa mengusir kegelapan.

Rasa rindu yang mendalam merasuk ke dalam hatiku, rasa rindu yang terasa amat tua dan besar. KErinduan seorang anak manusia untuk masuk kembali ke dalam rahim sang bunda yang telah membesarkannya selama berabad-abad. Rasa rindu untuk kembali bergulung-gulung bagaikan bayi yang baru lahir di dada sang ibu. Menyusu dan merasakan ketentraman.

Aku merebahkan diriku di dada sang ibu purba. Sang ibu yang senantiasa menjaga dan mengawasi jutaan anaknya, sang ibu bumi, tempat semua kehidupan berasal dan dibesarkan. Ia muncul di depanku, dalam wujud dada raksasa, tempat dimana aku menyatu dalam pelukannya. Sang bunda hadir dalam rupa dekapan erat dari rerumputan dan tanah yang hangat.

Ini adalah rasa yang telah lama kucari, lepas dari segala kepenatan dan kembali menyusu sari kehidupan sang ibu sejati. Sosok yang selalu mengayomi dan menjagai, melahirkan dan mencintai, menerima segala penderitaan dan kerusakan dirinya karena ego anak-anaknya. Figur yang mengasihi tanpa pernah sekali pun mengharapkan kasih itu kembali, karena tidak semua anaknya menyadari kasih itu. Menyayangi dalam gelap, mengasihi dari pekat.

Ia tersenyum, dan aku pun rebah dengan tenang. Telanjang di depan sang Pertiwi.

Nothing but Nothing

The birds were chirping a tune of sorrow just a moment before they flapped their wings and flew away. The grim slowly captured the whole atmosphere of that meadow. No bright light, even though the sun stroke at its maximum force. Empty and cold, unlike the usual warmth emanated from the ball of flare. Even the dark clouds themselves seemed to be brighter compared to the grimace floating in the air.

Everything was still, captured in the freezing frame of dark cold breeze. A small silent whistle which was surprisingly able to seize the dominance from the fierce blow of the north wind. It penetrated every single marrow of the living beings around the meadow. As if pressing the stop button to make them muted and still. Not even the green leaves hanging at the big tree dared to move an inch. That whistle safely passed the flock of the leaves without making them rustled.
Shadow crawled from its nest, disguised as the indistinguishable cold bite. Not dark nor black, not grand nor big. Just a small piece of it, but taking over the throne of the ray. It donned the mantle of nothing, arising the hole above every being. Softer than the fierce black hole made by the exploding old star, but wilder than a mere sand trap. Hiding beneath the fake tranquility, it expanded the power through the air.

The exile, as people said. The land of isolation, the barren land of sorrow, filled with silent lament and dried cry. The absence of the sound made things as plain as the night. Unbroken silence absorbs every emotion. No tears, no laughter, no anger, not even peace. Its mute captured everything, engulfed things within the layer of nothingness. Nothing but nothing.

The Darkness Embrace

I went up to the balcony that night and looked up the sky. Cloudy. Not even a single spark of the stars, not even a single glance from the queen of the night. Sighing slowly, I gazed upon the dark horizon. The lights were emanating from the warm room that I left, but they were too hot for my heart. The great light casted away all the shadow in soul, revealing only an empty space. I couldn’t stand for that vast wasteland. That was the reason I refrained to the dark corner of the night, under the protection of goddess Nox, the ruler of the night.

Honestly, I did not have any idea about what to do. Lending my soul to the spirit of the night, hoping to fill the hole with a great deal of shadow. Dark Heart? I prefer having dark side rather to having nothing.

My hand spontaneously shuffled the Tarot cards. Carefully, I drew one from that big deck. Exactly what I had in mind, the 15th card, The Devil. It symbolized darkness, the negativity that conquered my whole mind. What should I say? My wholeness was engulfed by the wave of shadow, a great wave indeed.

The tears rolled upon my cheek, trying to wash away the emotion. But I felt nothing, not even a slight sadness, not even a slight mourn. Everything was plain indeed. Flat, as in the flatline for the beating of the heart.

I didn’t have love, though I strived for it. I didn’t even have the capability of loving. Damn! This room should be filled with love, with someone to hug and share. But not even a single strike of interest to any girl. And no, I am not interested in guy either. I was loveless, craving for emotion, scratching the ground with the hope of finding what I was looking there, miraculously find it. But my hand bled so hard, that I couldn’t continue.

I shouted, shouted so hard till my throat felt like being torn. Trying to voice my desperation to the gods above. But nothing happened, only darkness remained. The only sound to respond was the ticking clock on my wall. Tick! Tick! Tick! Drove me insane! But could an insane guy get more insane? Haha, a very ironic joke.
The blackness tempted me to embrace them. They transformed into a warm blanket, promising the comfort. And with my last breath, I inhale the shadow, surrendering myself unto it.

Marriage?

When I taught the intermediate class last period, I found an interesting statement to comment. It says that "Marriage should be the first priority in life". Awww, that was so "general mind", eh?

Most of my students stated their disagreement, saying that marriage is not the first priority, but should be the second or third. The bottomline is, it is not the first priority, but still in the top three. The reason was, the social construct oblige them to do so. People do not want to grow old as in-eligible bachelor. As single elder living only with a group of cats, sitting in a rocking chair and wearing their sweater all the time.

Jiah! What is so wrong with the social construct? Putting all those ideologies of marriage life and happiness. When you remain unmarried, you will automatically fall into the blackhole of misery. When you marry, you will have all the happiness in the world. And suddenly society assume the robe of almighty, bestowing happiness and misery to people.

Then what's with all the divorces? Then what's with all those successful bachelors and bachelorettes?

Regarding the priority thingy, is it true that marriage should be in our priority at all? Well, got no right to judge people's choice though. But, aren't there more important things in life??

Memento from the Public Lecture

When I went to the public lecture by Prof. Chua Beng Huat, I expected to find a great deal of information about Cultural Studies. The Cultural Studies for Dummies. A very impossible expectation, really, for almost all attendants in the public lecture were experts. At least, they know and have studied more about Cultural Studies than me.

The notion that Prof. Beng Huat delivered to us was challenging though. He challenged us to conduct a research of Cultural Studies in Asia by giving some researchable topics. Mostly the topics he presented took root in the popular culture.

One of the discourses that got my attention was the discussion of Indonesian sinetron. We cannot deny the fact that Indonesian sinetron rules the film marketing in South East Asia, at least in the Malay speaking countries, which include Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Southern Philippine, Southern Thailand, and Southern Vietnam. In this point, nothing can topple its domination yet.
The basic reason of the domination, Prof. Beng Huat explained, was the fact that most people wanted to see someone different from themselves. They are tired with themselves, and thus also despise seeing their own reflection as a leisure time entertainment. For example, Singaporean are tired seeing fellow Singaporean with a familiar problem and presentation in their TV Screens. Same thing happen to other countries. They wanted to see something “alien”. By seeing “alien”, they will not be able to identify themselves to the characters they are watching. When the characters do stupid things, they will be able to justify that it is done not by their fellow citizen, but by the neighboring countrymen. When the characters do something amazing, they also keep the distances, and thus providing dreaming space to the audience.

Listening to his explanation, it raised a big question mark within my mind. The same phenomenon also happen in Indonesia as well. Does this mean that the characters in our sinetron actually do not portray Indonesian? Does it mean that sinetron occupies a domain of itself? Excluded from the real cultural boundary existed in reality? Since most of our people also watch sinetron so that they are allowed to dream of experiencing the glamorous lifestyle being portrayed in the program?
The next big question that popped up in my mind was, does this mean that we are experiencing some kind of cultural identity crisis? That we need to represent ourselves in something that is not us?

On one hand, this phenomenon is nice, in terms that at least in one thing, Indonesia can prove its rule and dominance. On the other hand, this is terrible, the identity crisis is terrible. This could mean two things. First, it might be the beginning of a bigger crisis. Second, it might be the climax of identity crisis problem of our nation, which will give us a new direction to go.

Which one is which, it is up to us to decide. I would certainly vote and hope for the second one.