KRT. Suryanto Sastroatmodjo
“Kegilaan membimbing ke satu kubangan,
tiada tampak namun terasakan,
menggali kubur sendiri digali tanah,
membongkar nenek moyang; tulang belulang patah tak wajar,
berserakan, tumbang ditindih perang. Di mana tak berubah,
menjadi penggali bagi sanak-saudara.”
(Si Gila Menyapamu, XXXVII).
Ada sepercik nada dari rengkuhan-puisi di atas, dimana penyair Nurel Javissyarqi, yang memberikan sebuah renungan. Namun demikian, izinkanlah saya mengumpulkan buah renungan itu sebagai salah satu metafor yang unik: bahwa ada saatnya seorang Anak Manusia “merembug” tentang peristiwa kegilaan hidup atau semacam atmosfer redamnya satu tonggak perlawanan sejarah. Bahwa suatu realita bukan hanya harus dituding atau dihakimi, melainkan juga harus diseberangi, sebagai “et ultima factum;” detik dimana mesti diakui bahwa kesunyataan paling tinggi yang terjumpai adalah segores garisan nasib.
Kita bisa jadi gila tiba-tiba, sementara, atau sepanjang masa. Berapa jauh fakta itu dari elmaut? Penyair Nurel Javissyarqi yang sebelumnya juga memakai nama Nur Laili Rahmat dan Nurla Gautama (nama yang diberikan oleh cerpenis Joni Ariadinata) dalam antologi ini. Lho betapa terkikisnya kehidupan yang tanpa tukang gali kubur, dan tanpa kepedulian tentang tulang belulang yang nyaris jadi debu, sekiranya kita bisa sesekali “menggila” (secara temporer), agar bisa “meng-gali” memori-memori semesta, niscaya lelakon jagad bisa ditentukan menurut garis takdir yang lentur, nisbi, relatif. Soalnya, tatkala manusia menjadi pencetus gagasan-gagasan aktual (masa silam yang dianggap terbaik) maka aku dan diriku seolah-olah bagian dari jenjang gradasi nasib yang terserah kalbu batinku sendiri. Hendak kemanakah langkah kaki?
Takdir Terlalu Dini barangkali impelentasi kegelisahan si penyair yang mencoba mengais-ngais tlatah jelajah maha luas, namun ia bukan memetik bintang-bintang dari langit asing, melainkan cakrawala leluhur, antariksa budaya paling dekat. Terkadang ia harus mencatat betapa kadar “dirinya” kepastian nasib malang, sementara sifat-sifat nasib mujur justru malang melintang ke-Gaib-an.
Akhirul kalam sahabatku budiman silahkan terus menggali kenisbian hayat ini, agar tolak-tarik dan tegangan-tegangan antara Si Gila dan Si Pasrah di dalam jagad nan fana ini bisa menemukan makna. Toh, siapapun “kudu” melayarkan sampan fikir pelita hati.
Nagan Lor, 14 April 2001 Yogyakarta.
A Bit Prologue
Ballads of Too Early Destiny
Written by KRT. Suryanto Sastroatmodjo
Translated by Agus B. Harianto
The craziness leads to one hole,
doesn’t seen but felt,
digs the own grave in the entrenchment of ground,
uncovers the great grand mother; all kind of bones are breaking uncommonly,
spread around, be collapsed suppressed by the war. Where doesn’t change,
become the digger for the all brothers. (The Crazy Man Accost You: XXXVII).
There is a slight intonation from the pulling of the poetry above, where the poet Nurel Javissyarqi gives a musing. But however that is, please allow me to collect the effort of those musing, as one of unique metaphors; that, there is the time for human kind discusses about the happening of craziness of life. Or some kind of vague atmosphere of a monument from the fighting back of history, that a reality is not only had to pointed at, judged. But, also must cross over it as el ultima factum; the time (second) where must admitted that seem highest fact is a striping of fate’s line.
We can be crazy suddenly, temporarily or all the time; how far the fact is from el- maut (death). The poet Nurel Javissyarqi, that before using name Nurla Gautama (the name was gave by the short stories writer, Joni Ariadinata) in this anthology. Well, how eroded the live is without the burial digger, and without the care about the bones that almost become dust. As if we could at once “become crazy” temporarily, in order to be able to “dig” the memories of universe. Certainly the plays of universe could be decided according to the line of flexible destiny, empty, relatively. The matter is, when the human become the founder of the actual ideas (the past assumed as the best). Therefore, I and me my self, as if the part of the fate’s gradation that up to the mind of my own heart; where the feet will go?
Too early destiny, perhaps as the nervous implementation of the poet whose tried to scrape for the presence of wandering of the great grand wide. But he doesn’t pick up the stars from the strange sky, but the firmament of ancestors, the nearest space of culture. Sometimes, he must write how much the grade of “him self” the certainty of poor fate, while the behavior of luck is lying across of the mysteriousness of God.
The end greeting, my well manner best friend, please delve the emptiness of this live, in order that the push- pull and the tensions between the crazy man and the submission man in the impermanence universe can find the meaning; the fact is, any one whoever that is must sail the mind’s dugout of heart’s light.
Nagan Lor, 14 April 2001 Yogyakarta.
http://sastra-indonesia.com/2021/05/secuil-pengantar/
http://pustakapujangga.com/2009/09/a-bit-prologue/
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