ROMANTISME SATE KERE (Jaya Baya Edisi 18. Desember 2013)

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ROMANTISME SATE KERE
Malem senin mujudake malem sing underpresser kanggo aku, tugas proposal skripsi sing kudu dikumpulke sesuk jan nggawe aku puyeng. Kesuwen ngadhep layar laptop nggawe minus mataku tansaya ndadra. Wetengku njaluk diisi. Kanggo kahanan kaya ngene, aku wis ngerti solusine.
Tak bukak jendhela kamarku.
“Kriwilll..eh..Cokroo….Sate kere sak porsi, tempe dhele loro, gembuse telu, nganggo lonthong loro, aja lali brambange sing akeh, ning lomboke aja akeh-akeh ya. Tak tunggu, ge-pe-el,” bengokku saka balkon jendhela.
Kaya biasane, dheweke ora bakal noleh yen ora diceluk nganggo jeneng sing jangkep, jeneng versi dheweke, mesthine.
            “KANJENG PANGERAN HARYA COKRO DININGRAT, aku pesen sate kere komplit, ya!” tak ambali anggonku mbengok. Yen iki mesthi bakalan noleh.
            “Nggih Ndara Putri, sendika dhawuh,” keprungu suarane saka njaba.
Awas ya yen suwe. Wetengku wis ora keroncongan maneh, nanging nge-jazz, nge-rock, nge-dhangdhut, mbuh apa maneh ora urus. Kriwil, I’m waiting for you sate.
Tok..tok..tok.
“Ndara putri, sakmenika satenipun,” keprungu swara saka njaba.
Akhire.. teka pesenanku. Jendhela kamar tak bukak, langsung wae tak jaluk pesenanku, menehi dhuwit Rp. 3.500, terus siap-siap nutup lawang maneh.
“E..e..e.. lha piye ta, malah ditutup maneh, mbok ngobrol-ngobrol sik ngono lho,” ujare sambi nyekel lawang jendhela sing arep tak tutup.
“Wil, aku ngelih, wis ra ana tenaga maneh nggo ngobrol, lageyan kowe ya kudu…”
“Cokro… neng endi ae kowe? Iki lho pelanggane ngenteni diladeni! E..lha bocah gemblung!” swara ibu-ibu neng sebrang kana nyelani anggonku ngomong.
“Lho ta, isih wani ngobrol? Pengen dipangan simbokmu?,” ujarku marang Kriwil sing saiki praupane aclum.
Ora nganggo suwe, dheweke langsung mlayu saka panggonku lan wis dipapak praupan simboke sing duka yayah sinipi. Aku mung bisa ndeleng karo prihatin, amarga ana sing luwih wigati wektu iki, yaiku nambani rasa ngelihku.
Sate kere is the most delicious food in the world! Sate kere pancen panganan paling enak sak donya.
***
Esuk iki swasanane kepenak banget. Aku siap-siap mangkat neng kampus. Lagi wae aku metu saka kost-nggandheng si Reddy-sepedha mini klangenanku- neng njaba wus ana satriya onthel mawa klambi putih wis mapag aku kanthi jumawa.
“Saras, ayo bareng,” ujare marang aku.
Aku manthuk.
Kost karo kampusku ora adoh, nanging ya ora cedhak banget. Dadi cukup kepenak yen mangkat menyang kampus mawa ngonthelan. Aku lan Kriwil asring mangkat bareng yen kebeneran ana kuliah esuk. Aku lan dheweke padha-padha ngunggulake sepedha onthele dhewe-dhewe. Sepedhaku tak parabi si Reddy, amarga wernane sing abang, dene sepedha onthele Kriwil diparabi si Bejo, sepedha unta antik tempoe doeloe, sing isih begja wae marga isih dienggo. Aku dhewe marabi si Cokro mawa jeneng Kriwil, amarga rambute sing kriwil-kriwil.
Sawise markir sepedha, aku lan dheweke tumuju ruang kuliahe dhewe-dhewe. Senajan padha-padha Fakultas Keguruan, aku lan dheweke beda jurusan. Aku njupuk jurusan Pendidikan Bahasa Inggris, dene dheweke Pendidikan Guru Sekolah Dasar, cocok karo kapribadhene sing seneng marang bocah cilik, ora kaya aku.
Lalekke sik bab Kriwil, analisis syntax mbutuhake kawigatenku.
Rong jam sawise mumet amarga syntax, aku langsung wae mara menyang kantine Bu Siti. Pecel bakmi tak pesen kanggo ngganjel weteng. Esuk iki aku ora sempet sarapan, lan asring kaya ngono.
“Saras!”
Aku keseleg. Sapa sih sing ngageti aku nganti ana upa sing nyasar tekan irungku.
“Heh, isa gak dadi guru sing luwih beradab? Akeh wong mati, sepele, gara-gara keseleg,” gremengku.
“Hehe.. sorry bu guru. Eh sesuk gak ana kuliah kan?”
“He’em. Meh ngapa?”
“Ewangi aku dodolan mengko bengi,”
“Haa..??”
***
Neng ngarepku wis akeh sundukan tempe dhele, tempe gembus, jeroan, bumbu sate, brambang, lombok, lonthong, terus ana peso, lan godhong gedhang. Terus aku kudu piye? Bingung stadium akhir.
“Eh Kriwil, iki piye? Ngapa sih kowe ora dodolan sega liwet wae? Aku bingung iki kudu dikapakna?,” protesku marang juragan dadakan kuwi.
“Woalah ndhuk, cah wedok gak tau masak. Tugasmu mung ngetum satene. Aja lali diwenehi bumbu kacang lan brambang lombok. Sing mbakar aku wae. Be professional, pelanggane dhewe bakalan akeh wengi iki.” Ujare wis kaya koki profesional wae.
“Lha ya, mula kuwi. Wong aku iki ora ditraining sik lho. Gek bapak karo simbokmu ndadak ana acara jagong manten barang.” Aku isih ngetuprus senajan ora dirungu dening si Kriwil.
Edyan, tibake wengi iki warung sate-ne si Kriwil pancen rame nganggo banget. Aku sing ora pengalaman ing bab per-sate-an dadi klimpungen dhewe. Gaweanku durung bisa cepet, isih lelet lan bola-bali digrundeli sing tuku. Awas ya, bubar iki aku pengen njambak rambut Kriwile si Cokro. Ngapa aku ujug-ujug didadekake asistene? Hasem.
Jan-jane, aku isa wae nampik panjaluke. Akeh pawadan sing arep tak omongke. Nanging, ngelingi yen dheweke kuwi kanca raketku nalika aku neng kene, aku dadi ora tega ndeleng dheweke dodolan dhewe. Dheweke ngerti sipatku sing ora bisa ngomong ora yen dijaluki pitulungan. Mulane wani wae dheweke ndadekake aku asisten dadakan.
Akhire aku bisa ambegan landhung. Sing tuku wis sepi. Satene ya kari pirang sunduk wae. Aku lungguh ngusapi kringet. Tibake kesel ya golek dhuwit iku. Lagi saiki tak rasakke.
“Kesel ya Ras?” takone Kriwil.
            Aku mung manthuk.
            “Sepurane ya, aku jane gak pengen ngrepoti kowe, nanging ya piye maneh, kanca sing tak percaya mung kowe. Mung kowe sing gelem direpoti. Haha,”
            “Asem kowe. Aku ki ora tau dodolan kaya ngene. Gek mau aku diseneni sing tuku. Hash..,” grundelku marang dheweke.
            “Weh, sate kere-ku iki pancen enak lan murah lho. Pas kanggo kantong mahasiswa. Yen ing Manahan apa Ngarsapura bisa nem ewu luwih lho. Kamangka kuwi amung gembus karo lonthong siji. Kuwi jenenge ora sate kere maneh, nanging sate sing nggawe kere. Haha..” ujare, promosi.
            Jarene, bapak lan simboke wis dodolan sate kere kawit isih timur. Amung bisa dodol sate kere, yaiku sate tempe dhele, gembus, utawa jeroan. Sate kere kuwi mbiyene panganane kawula utawa rakyat cilik sing ora kuat tuku sate daging sing sabenere. Bisnis iki jare “menjanjikan” banget. Apamaneh panganan iki wis dadi ikon kutha Solo sing akeh digoleki.
            Dheweke ya crita bab ngapa dheweke isa dijenengake Cokrodiningrat. Pranyata jenenge kuwi dijupuk saka asmane Pangeran Cakraningrat saka Madura. Ngelingi yen sate kuwi identik karo Madura, ben nggawa hoki, ngendikane bapake. Yen manut panemuku, bab kuwi blas ora nyambung. Nanging kasunyatane pancen sawise Kriwil lair, bisnis sate kere wong tuane saya maju.
            Ah, kuwi lak merga pethele wong tuane anggone nyambut gawe.
            Nanging, sing nganyelke saka si Kriwil kuwi dheweke seneng nambahi jenenge dadi Kanjeng Pangeran Harya Cokrodiningrat, lan dheweke ora gelem ngedoli aku nalika aku tuku satene yen aku durung nyebut jeneng anyare kanthi jangkep. Wani-wanine dheweke nganggo gelar KPH, kamangka anak ratu ya dudu. Adoh saka ningrat. Abdi dalem wae ora.
            Pancen gemblung bocah kuwi.
***
            Kriwil ngajak aku mlaku-mlaku menyang Car Free Day Slamet Riyadi minangka ucapan matur nuwun amarga aku gelem ngewangi dheweke dodolan. Aku gelem wae, sisan refreshing. Jam lima esuk aku lan dheweke wis mangkat nunggang sepedha onthele dhewe-dhewe. Kutha Solo ing wayah esuk pancen nyenengake.
            Ing Car Free Day wis akeh wong kang umyeg karo kawigatene dhewe-dhewe. Ana sing mlaku-mlaku, sepedhahan, dolanan bal, dolanan skateboard utawa sepatu rodha, senam bareng lan werna-werna tontonan. Akeh pedagang sing njajaake dodolane, saka panganan, dolanan cah cilik, pakean, sandhal sepatu lan akeh maneh. Akeh uga sing dodolan kuwi isih nyandhang status mahasiswa, kesempatan golek dhuwit, mungkin.
            Saya awan saya padhet kahanan ing Car Free Day iki, angel kanggo nunggang sepedha. Amarga iku, aku lan Kriwil mutusake markir sepedha ing sacedhake Loji Gandrung lan nerusake laku kanthi mlaku.
            Ora krasa, wis rong jam aku lan Kriwil olehe mlaku-mlaku lan muter-muter, poto-poto gak jelas lan jak-jakan kaya bocah cilik.
            “Kesel ya mubeng-mubeng? Arep neng endi maneh iki?” takone Kriwil.
            “Mangan yuk, ngelih, durung sarapan,” usulku.
            “Meh mangan apa?”
            “Mbuh, aku bingung. Akeh panganan neng kene. Soto, bubur ayam, pecel, sego liwet, gudheg, timlo, siomay, bakpao, bakso bakar, sup, sate ker… ah aja kuwi pokoe. Bosen aku.”
            “Ya wis, sate ayam Ponorogo wae ya, munggah pangkat sithik, tak traktir,”
            Krungu tembung “tak traktir” ateges kuwi gratisan, aku langsung ngiyani tanpa mikir. Langsung wae aku sakloron aba sate rong porsi marang bakule. Ora suwe, pesenanku wis teka.
            “Aneh ya, bakul sate kok jajane sate,” alokku samba nyampur sate lan bumbu sate.
            “Ya beda lah. Iki kan sate mawa teges sing sakbenere. Haha”
            Aku seneng ndulu dheweke mangan telap-telep, kaya ora tau mangan wae bocah kuwi. Rambut kriwile nambahi lucu rupane. Anak juragan sate kere kuwi pancen kadhang nganyelke nanging krasa aneh yen ora kepethuk dheweke sedina wae. Ah ngapa ta aku iki, mbendina rak ya bebas ndulu dheweke saka jendhela? Aja-aja..
            Ah, age-age tak buak pikiran sing ngawur iku.
            “Kowe ngerti gak Ras? Wong tuaku dodolan sate kere, nanging anake jenenge Ningrat. Ana ningrat ing njerone kere. Hehe. Buktine, bapak ibuku bisa nyekolahke aku nganti pawiyatan luhur. Sesuatu banget ya?” critane karo niruke gaya ngomonge Syahrini.
            “Disukuri wae. Begja kowe nduwe wong tua sing nduwe kawigaten marang anake kaya bapak ibumu. Saiki sing penting, gek ndang dibayar satene, terus awake dhewe mulih. Kesel aku, meh ngaso,”
            Aku ngenteni dheweke mbayar sate. Ngapa kok suwe banget, kamangka wis ora antri. Ketoke ana samubarang sing ora dipengeni, kedadeyan. Rong menit banjure, dheweke ngampiri aku kanthi rupa kang aclum.
            “Ras, dhompetku ilang. Ketoke aku kecopetan. Hmm.. kowe nggawa dhuwit luwih ta?” ujare karo melas.
            Dhuh Gusti, niat arep digratisi malah dadi sing mbayari. Apa tumon? Iki ora sate kere, nanging sate sing bener-bener nggawe kere.

***

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If Only She Could Talk (Story Teenlit Magazine, Oktober 2013)

18.39 Impian Nopitasari 1 Comments

If Only She Could Talk
I had just been angry when I didn’t (couldn’t) find the book I looked for. The book is (was) very difficult to find because it is (was) an old book, a novel by James Herriot, If Only They (It “for novel?”) Could Talk. My friend said that the book (or novel?) can be found in (at) the library of the campus. But in fact, I didn’t find it. It was check-out, borrowed by someone.
I felt so desperate in (omit) that time.
I decided to look for the book next (another) time, maybe tomorrow. I hope the book will have been returned. My head burnt (dizzy?, burnt is awful?), I wanted to go home instead of out to play in another place.
***
The library was very crowded. There are (were) many people here, (doing) in (omit) their own activities. I (was) still waiting for someone returning the novel I wanted. Suddenly, my eyes caught something attractive brought by a girl. Yeah, that’s the one!
“Sorry, have you finished read (reading) it?” I asked the girl.
She didn’t give a respond, even to answer my question.
“Have you finished? May I borrow the book?” I repeated and added my question.
She nodded. (She) Gave the book to me and left me (standing) alone. I was really happy to get (have) the book. But I felt so annoyed with the girl. Why she didn’t show her voice (spoke any word)? How beautiful is it (what do you mean??)? She was very arrogant, I judged directly.
I disliked the girl in (from) my first impression.
***
Finally, I finished my assignment in analyzing the novel. I hated (disliked, hate is for behavior..) literature so much, especially in analysis.  Huft.. It’s (was) so horrible assignment.
But it’s my consequence to take English (Education) Department major.
Although I hated (disliked) analysis, I loved the novel. The description about Edensor, a village in Derbyshire, England astonished me.  It is the closest village to Chatsworth House and much of it belongs to the Dukes of Devonshire. I admire(d) it. What a beautiful trees, valley, flower, and animals they are. When will I go there? It’s just a dream, of course.
I found a piece of paper folded in the middle of the novel’s pages. Hey.. It was a poem.
A Piece of My Voice
I’m lonely….
Just stand in terrace (porch would be nice)
Nobody cares
I’m desolated….
Life in isolated
Nobody listened
I want to show my voice
But I have no choice
Even to get my joys
I was completely stupefied by what I had read. The poem was so touched (touching). I thought the author of the poem wrote it with deep feeling. Humaira, those letters was (were) written in the end of the poem. She was the writer, I guessed.
***
I saw that girl when I intended to return back the novel on the rack. She looked so confused. Who cares? I ignored her.
There was someone touched (touching) my shoulder. I was startled. That girl! Oh no. What (do) she want from me?
She pointed (at) the novel I brought, murmured unclear words. I didn’t know what she means. She pointed (at) the novel again and pointed (at) herself.
“Do you want it?” I asked her.
She nodded. I gave the book to her. She took that (it) and opened every page quickly, looking for something. She looked so upset when (she) didn’t find what she wanted.
I assumed I knew what she (has been) looked (looking) for.
“Is this yours?” I asked and showed a piece of paper to her, “I found it in the middle of the novel’s pages; by the way, it’s a nice poem”
She smiled and murmured something “Humm...”
“I know your name is Humaira, isn’t it?”
“Humm…”
“Yeah, don’t tell me again, I know your name “Hum Girl”, can’t you talk in (using) clear words instead (of) just murmured (murmuring) like that?” I shouted to (at) her.
I was very angry because she never talks(ed) to me. Is her voice sound like a bark?
She opened her book. Wrote something and showed it to me.
“I CAN’T SPEAK NORMALLY BECAUSE I’M A DEAF-MUTE”.
I was shocked. It was (an) unpredictable answer. My judgment about her arrogance was nonsense. It was my wrong opinion.
I found her in tears.
***
I met her in the next day after the incident to make (say) an apology. I was lucky because I found her in library as usual.
“Ehm, sorry Hum, I’m Firman. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” I was speechless.
“No problem. Don’t feel guiltyJ” She wrote it and smiled to me.
“You’re a kindly (kind) girl Hum. Allah protects you from useless words, useless voice. He loves you in His own way” just that words I could say to her.
Humaira, if only you could talk…
***



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