Indra Tranggono, lahir di Yogyakarta 23 Maret 1960, sastrawan dan pemerhati budaya ini adalah penulis cerita pendek dan lakon. Karyanya telah diterbitkan secara luas. Cerpen-cerpennya terpilih dalam buku Cerpen Pilihan Kompas sebanyak tujuh kali antara tahun 2002-2012. Iblis Ngambek (Penerbit KOMPAS, 2004) dan Sang Terdakwa (Yayasan untuk Indonesia, 1998) adalah dua kumpulan cerpennya yang terkenal.

Indra adalah salah seorang penyunting Sembilu: Antologi Puisi 21 Penyair Yogya (Pustaka Pelajar, 2005).

Karya lakon yang ditulis Indra antara lain: monoplay “Saputangan Fang Yin”, 2013, dipentaskan di Gedung Societet, Yogyakarta dan “Negaraku sedang Demam”, 2011, dipentaskan di Teater Arena, Surakarta. Drama “Monumen” diterbitkan dalam bentuk buku oleh Yayasan untuk Indonesia, 2002, dan dipentaskan di Yogyakarta. Bersama AgusNoor, Indra menulis naskah monolog “Lidah Pingsan”, 1997, dipentaskan di Yogyakarta, berlanjut dengan Lidah (Masih) Pingsan”,1998, dipentaskan di Jakarta, Yogyakarta, Surakarta, dan Malang, serta “Mayat Terhormat”, 2000, dipentaskan di Purna Budaya Yogyakarta dan Taman Ismail Marzuki Jakarta. Pada tahun 1999, Indra bersama Heru Kesawamurti dan Agus Noor menulis lakon “Brigade Maling” yang dipentaskan oleh Teater Gandrik di Melbourne, Australia.

Tahun 2012 Indra mendapat Hadiah Sastra dari Yayasan Sastra Yogya yang didirikan oleh sastrawan Prof. Dr. Rachmat Djoko Pradopo. Hingga kini Indra masih giat menulis.

“Percakapan Patung-Patung” (The Statues’ Conversation)” terbit pertama kali di Kompas 2002, dan di kumpulan cerpen, Iblis Ngambek (The Sulking Devil Penerbit Buku Kompas, 2003), hak cipta © 2002, 2003 oleh Indra Tranggono. Terbitan perubahan hak cipta © 2014 oleh IndraTranggono. Terbit atas ijin dari penulis. Hak cipta terjemahan © 2014 oleh Wikan Satriati.

***

 

Percakapan Patung-Patung

Bulan sebesar semangka tersepuh perak tergantung di langit kota, dini hari. Cahayanya yang lembut, tipis berselaput kabut, menerpa lima sosok patung pahlawan yang berdiri di atas bangunan Monumen Joang yang tidak terawat dan menjadi sarang gelandangan. Cahaya bulan itu seperti memberi tenaga kepada mereka untuk bergerak-gerak dari posisi mereka yang berdiri tegak. Mereka seperti mencuri kesempatan dari genggaman warga kota yang terlelap dirajam kantuk dan ringkus selimut.

Lima patung itu, tiga lelaki dan dua perempuan, menggoyang-goyangkan kaki, menggerak-gerakkan tangan, kemudian duduk, dan ada juga yang tiduran. Mungkin mereka sangat letih karena selama lebih dari empat puluh tahun berdiri di situ. Wajah mereka yang kaku pun, dengan lipatan-lipatan cor semen beku, kerap bergerak-gerak seperti orang mengaduh, mengeluh, menjerit dan berteriak.

“Dulu, ketika jasad kita terbujur di sini, kota ini sangat sunyi. Hanya beberapa lampu berpendar bagai belasan kunang-kunang yang membangunkan malam. Kini, puluhan bahkan ratusan lampu berpendar-pendar seterang siang. Negeri ini benar-benar megah,” ujar patung lelaki yang dikenal dengan nama Wibagso sambil mengayun-ayunkan senapannya.

“Tetapi, lihatlah di sana, Bung Wibagso. Kumpulan gelandangan tumpang tindih bagai jutaan cendol sedang makan bangkai anjing dengan lahap. Dan di sana, lihatlah deretan gubug-gubug reyot dengan gelandangan yang dijejalkan, bagai benalu menempel tembok gedung-gedung.

Mulut mereka menganga, menyemburkan abab bacin seperti bau mayat, mengundang jutaan lalat terjebak di dalamnya. Ya, Tuhan mereka mengunyah lalat-lalat itu,” desis patung lelaki bernama Durmo.

Ratri—patung perempuan yang dulu dikenal sebagai mata-mata kaum gerilyawan, menukas, “Itu biasa, rekan Durmo. Dalam negeri yang gemerlap, kemiskinan selalu dirawat sebagai ilham kemajuan. Kita mesti bangga, negeri ini sangat kaya. Lihatlah di sana, deretan rumah-rumah mewah menyimpan jutaan keluarga bahagia. Ada mobil-mobil mewah, ada lapangan golf pribadi, ada pesawat terbang pribadi. Dan lihatlah di sana, ada orang berdansa sampai pagi. Ya, ampun… malah ada yang orgi.”

Patung Sidik, yang sejak tadi menyidiki dunia sekitar dengan pandangan nanar, melenguh bagai sapi menghadapi maut di ruang jagal. “Ternyata, mereka hanya mengurus perut dan kelamin sendiri. Aku jadi menyesal, kenapa dulu ikut memerdekakan negeri ini.”

“Aku pun jadi tidak lagi percaya diri sebagai pahlawan!” timpal Durno. “Kita berdiri di sini tak lebih dari hantu sawah. Ternyata mereka tak sungkan, apalagi hormat kepada kita. Buktinya mereka menggaruk apa saja.”

“Bung Durmo, kita jangan terlalu sentimental. Aku rasa mereka tetap hormat kepada kita. Buktinya, mereka membangunkan monumen yang megah buat kita,” ujar Wibagso.

“Tapi kenapa kita hanya diletakkan di sini, terjepit di antara gedung-gedung besar? Masa monumen pahlawan kok cuma dislempitkan,” gugat patung perempuan bernama Cempluk, yang dulu dikenal sebagai pejuang dari pos dapur umum.

***

Angin bertiup mengabarkan hari sudah pagi. Gelandangan-gelandangan yang tidur melingkar di kaki monument menggeliat bangun. Mulut mereka menguap, kompak. Bau abab bacin yang membadai dari sela gigi-gigi kuning menguasai udara hingga tercium oleh para patung pahlawan.

Sontak, para patung pahlawan itu berdiri dan kembali ke tempat semula, sebelum keheningan pagi kembali dirajam hiruk-pikuk kota, sebelum udara bersih pagi dicemari deru napas kota yang keruh.

Di tempat masing-masing, patung-patung pahlawan itu terus bergumam.

Yu Seblak, pelacur kawakan yang dikenal sebagai danyang alias “penunggu” monumen itu, duduk takzim di kaki monumen. Tangannya diangkat hingga atas kepala sambil menggenggam dupa yang mengepulkan asap. Kepulan asap itu menari-nari mengikuti gerak tangannya. Ke kanan, ke kiri, ke atas, dan ke bawah. Gerakan Yu Seblak diikuti lima-enam orang yang duduk di belakang perempuan berdandan menor itu. Yu Seblak bergumam, meluncurkan kata-kata mantera.

“Aku mendengar ada banyak orang berdoa pada kita. Mereka memberi kita sesaji. Ada bunga-bunga. Ada jajan pasar. Ada rokok klembak menyan.” Mata Wibagso terus mengikuti upacara yang dipimpin Yu Seblak.

“Kurang ajar! Kita dianggap dedemit! Malah ada yang minta nomer lotre segala! Ini apa-apaan, Wibagso?” teriak Durmo.

“Ssstttt. Tenanglah. Apa susahnya kita membikin mereka sedikit gembira? Anggap saja ini selingan dalam perjalanan kita menuju jagat keabadian,” ujar Wibagso.

“Tapi kalau pahlawan sudah disuruh mengurusi togel, itu kebangetan!” protes Cempluk.

“Hidup mereka gelap, rekan Cempluk. Mereka hanya bisa mengadu kepada kita, karena yang hidup tak pernah mengurusi nasib mereka, malah menghardik mereka. Misalnya para wakil rakyat, mandor-mandor negara,” tutur Ratri.

Dalam irama cepat, Yu Seblak terus mengucapkan doa. Setelah itu, Yu Seblak menerima keluhan para “pasiennya”.

“Wah, kalau para pahlawan disuruh ngurusi garukan pelacur ya nggak bisa. Punya permintaan itu mbok yang sopan gitu lho.”

“Habis, saya selalu kena garuk, Yu. Jadinya “dagangan” saya sepi. Eh, siapa tahu, para petugas yang galak-galak kayak buto itu, takut sama Kanjeng Wibagso dan semua pahlawan yang ada di sini,” ujar Ajeng, perempuan berparas malam itu sambil menyerahkan amplop kepada Yu Seblak.

Yu Seblak, dengan tangkas langsung memasukkan amplop kecil berisi uang itu ke dalam kutangnya. “Yaaah, permintaanmu akan aku usahakan. Semoga Kanjeng Wibagso dan kawan-kawannya bisa mempertimbangkan.”

Wibagso tersenyum. Sidik manggut-manggut. Durmo tampak tersinggung.

“Mereka ini payah. Garuk-menggaruk pelacur, kere, atau gelandangan itu kan bukan urusan kita. Ngadu ke Dewan dong. Mereka kan punya wakil rakyat,” ujar Durmo.

“Ah, anggota Dewan kan lebih suka kasak-kusuk untuk berebut kekuasaan dan bagi-bagi uang dari hasil menjual undang-undang dan peraturan. Atau mereka lebih sibuk mengatur siasat untuk menjebol APBN dan APBD,” ucap Sidik.

“Otakmu politik melulu,” sergah Wibagso. “Kita tampung saja permintaan mereka.”

“Tapi urusan kita banyak, Bung. Kita masih harus mempertanggung-jawabkan seluruh perbuatan selama kita hidup. Jujur saja, waktu berjuang dulu, aku menembaki musuh tanpa ampun seperti membasmi tikus.” Mata Durmo menerawang jauh.

“Kenapa gelisah? Perang memungkinkan segalanya terjadi. Kita tidak mungkin bersikap lemah-lembut kepada musuh yang mengincar nyawa kita. Kita terpaksa membunuh bukan demi kepuasan melihat mayat-mayat mengerjat-ngerjat karena nyawanya oncat. Kita hanya mempertahankan hak yang harus kita genggam,” Wibagso mencoba menghibur Durmo yang dikenal sebagai gerilyawan paling berani menghadapi penjajah.

“Semua harus kita pahami sebagai risiko dari pilihan kita. Dan kita yakin saja, malaikat-malaikat tahu dan mencatat kebaikan kita. Terutama malaikat penghitung pahala manusia,” timpal Ratri.

***

Malam berikutnya, gelandangan-gelandangan kembali tidur di kaki monumen. Ada yang gelisah, ada yang tampak tenang, ada yang mendengkur. Hawa dingin tajam menusuk tulang. Patung-patung itu merasa sedih dan terharu menatap para gelandangan yang setia menemani mereka.

Dari radio penjual rokok di samping monumen terdengar warta berita malam, “Monumen Joang untuk mengenang jasa lima pahlawan yang gugur dalam pertempuran Kota Baru melawan pasukan Belanda, akan dipugar. Kedudukan para pahlawan pun sedang diusulkan untuk ditingkatkan dari pahlawan lokal menjadi pahlawan nasional. Pemerintah Daerah telah menyiapkan dana pemugaran sebesar tiga milyar.”

Lima patung itu mendengarkan berita dengan khusuk. Mendadak Wibagso meloncat girang. Ratri menari-nari. Namun, Cempluk tampak tidak bahagia. Ia hanya diam tepekur. Durmo tak kunjung berhasil melucuti kegelisahannya. Sidik tetap diam, mematung meskipun sudah puluhan tahun menjadi patung.

“Kenapa kalian diam? Kenapa? Berita itu mesti kita rayakan,”ujar Wibagso.

“Apa yang penting dari berita itu? Apa? Mau dipugar, terserah. Mau diapakan ya terserah…. Aku sendiri tidak terlalu bangga jadi pahlawan. Ternyata negeri yang kumerdekakan ini akhirnya hanya jadi meja prasmanan besar bagi beberapa gelintir orang. Sementara jutaan mulut lain menjadi tong sampah, hanya dapat mengunyah sisa-sisa pesta,” ucap Sidik dengan wajah muram.

“Soal negeri ini tidak lagi jadi urusan kita. Tugas kita sudah selesai. Kita tinggal bersyukur melihat anak cucu kita hidup bahagia,” sergah Wibagso.

“Tapi jutaan orang bernasib gelap itu terus menjerit. Jeritan mereka memukul-mukul rongga batinku,” mata Sidik menatap tajam wajah Wibagso.

“Ah, sudah jadi arwah kok masih sentimental. Sudahlah.”

“Tapi perasaanku masih hidup!”

Wibagso mendekati dan merangkul Sidik. “Bung, untuk apa memikirkan semua itu. Capek. Pusing. Saatnya kita istirah.”

“Terus kita hanya diam? Diam melihat berbagai kebusukan itu terjadi di depan kita? Begitu?” Sidik meradang.

“Lantas mau apa? Ingat, kita hanya arwah.”

“Hanya arwah?”

“Ya, apa pun sebutannya, kita tak bisa apa-apa lagi. Dunia kita sudah beda dengan mereka yang masih hidup. Soal keadaan negeri kita ini, memang tidak semuanya membahagiakan kita. Ada yang hidup enak, ada yang susah. Wajar, kan? Dan ingat, hidup ini perlombaan. Ada pemenang dan ada pecundang.”

Sidik tampak kesal dan malas mendengarkan ucapan Wibagso. “Aku ini sudah capek dengar khotbah macam itu. Dulu, waktu hidup selalu diceramahi, diguyur petuah-petuah. Eeeh sudah mati pun masih disuruh menelan nasihat. Capek, Bung, capek.”

Ratri yang sejak tadi menunjukkan wajah kesal pada Sidik, kontan bilang, “Jangan-jangan kamu ini kurang ikhlas berjuang, Bung Sidik?”

Sidik meradang. “Kurang ikhlas bagaimana? Kakiku yang pengkor ini telah kuberikan kepada perjuangan. Bahkan, jantungku kurelakan menjadi sarang peluru-peluru musuh.”

“Oooh… kalau soal kayak gitu, penderitaanku lebih dahsyat! Kalian tahu, ketika aku merebut kota yang dikuasai musuh, puluhan peluru merajamku. Tubuhku luluh-lantak. Tapi aku puas. Berkat keberanianku, nyali kawan-kawan kita terpompa. Dan, akhirnya kita berhasil memenangkan pertempuran. Ini semua berkat aku!” ujar Wibagso.

“Enak saja kamu bilang ‘aku’!” sergah Durmo. “Dalam pertempuran itu, aku dan Sidiklah yang berdiri paling depan. Kami menghadapi musuh satu lawan satu. Dan di mana kamu, Wibagso? Di mana? Kamu lari terbirit-birit ke hutan dan ke gunung. Dan kamu tanpa malu menyebut dirimu sedang bergerilya!”

“Tetapi akulah yang punya gagasan untuk menyerang. Aku juga yang memimpin serangan fajar itu!” Wibagso tak kalah meradang.

“Siapa yang mengangkatmu jadi pemimpin, Wibagso? Siapa? Waktu itu, kita tak lebih dari pemuda yang hanya bermodal nyali besar. Tak ada jabatan. Tak ada perbedaan kedudukan. Apalagi pimpinan resmi di medan perang!” hardik Durmo.

“Tapi perang tak hanya pakai otot, Bung. Perang juga pakai otak. Pakai siasat. Dan akulah yang menyusun siasat itu!” napas Wibagso naik turun.

“Tapi siasat tanpa nyali bagai kepala tanpa kaki!” bantah Durmo.

“Bung Wibagso,” tukas Sidik, “kenapa kamu sibuk menghitung-hitung jasa yang sesungguhnya hampa?”

Wajah Wibagso memerah. “Sidik, belajarlah kamu menghargai jasa orang lain. Jangan merasa paling pahlawan!”

“Kapan aku membangga-banggakan diri? Kapan? Kamu ingat, waktu berjuang dulu, aku justru menghilang saat Panglima Besar mengunjungi kawan-kawan yang berhasil menggempur musuh. Kalau aku mau, bisa saja aku mencatatkan diri menjadi prajurit resmi, tercatat dalam buku negara. Dan aku yakin, saat negeri ini merdeka, aku mampu jadi petinggi yang bisa memborong proyek. Tapi, puji Tuhan, maut keburu menjemputku,” ujar Sidik.

“Begitu juga aku,” sergah Durmo, “Aku berpesan kepada anak-anakku, kepada seluruh keturunanku agar mereka tidak mempersoalkan kepahlawananku demi minta uang tunjangan yang tidak seberapa. Itu pun masih banyak potongannya!”

“Munafik! Kalian munafik!” bentak Wibagso.

Bulan kembali mengerjap.

Angin terasa mati.

***

Napas kota kembali berhembus. Jantung kota kembali berdenyut. Gelandangan, pelacur, dan pencopet sudah bangun dan kembali memulai kesibukan masing-masing. Ada yang berangkat mengamen, mengemis, menyemir sepatu. Ada yang masih malas tiduran di tikar.

“Ajeng, kamu mau kemana?” tanya Yu Seblak.

“Ke penginapan. Ada janjian,” jawab Ajeng sambil mengoleskan gincu ke bibirnya.

“Wah, bakal dapat duit banyak, nih. Mau kencan dengan siapa, Jeng?” Yu Seblak menggoda.

“Kok mau tau aja? Rahasia dong.”

“Aku tahu, pasti kamu kencan dengan si Jumingan, Satpol PP itu. Benar, kan? Dia itu memang tergila-gila sama kamu. Eh, kalau pulang tolong bawakan aku oleh-oleh, ya. Nasi gudeg telur. Ini kan berkat doa yang kusampaikan kepada para pahlawan itu. Dulu kamu kan minta ‘dagangan’mu laris, iya kan?”

“Beres, Yu. Gudeg sayap juga boleh. Tambah paha juga bisa,” tawa Ajeng berderai.

“Kamu cantik. Sudah berangkat sana.”

Kalur, pencopet yang sudah punya “jam terbang tinggi”, bangun. Menenggak sisa air mineral. Ia duduk di samping Karep yang diberi gelar “gelandangan intelektual” karena gemar bicara dengan kalimat-kalimat yang sulit dipahami. Karep asyik membaca koran.

“Berdasarkan analisis saya, rencana pemugaran monumen ini hanya trik pemerintah. Pasti ada agenda-agenda tertentu,” ucap Karep.

“Jadi, kalau monumen ini dipugar, kita malah kehilangan tempat, ya?” tanya Kalur.

“Jelas, dong!”

“Kalau benar-benar terjadi?”

“Ya, kita harus turun ke jalan. Kita kerahkan semua gelandangan di kota ini.”

Mendadak terdengar siaran warta berita dari radio transistor milik Yu Seblak. “Drs. Gingsir, Walikota yang menggantikan Raden Mas Picis, membatalkan rencana pemugaran Monumen Joang. Menurut dia, proyek itu mubazir. Apalagi pengajuan kedudukan menjadi pahlawan nasional bagi Wibagso dan kawan-kawan telah ditolak Tim Pakar Sejarah Nasional. Rencananya, dana sebesar tiga milyar dialihkan untuk memberikan bantuan pangan kepada masyarakat prasejahtera.”

Beberapa gelandangan sontak bersorak. Mereka menari. Ada yang memukul-mukul galon air mineral, kaleng biskuit, botol-botol, dan ember. Ada yang berjoget sambil menenggak minuman keras.

***

Bulan pucat, diringkus kabut. Kota kembali tidur berselimut kegelapan. Namun di sebuah gedung pemerintah daerah, tampak lampu menyala.

“Saya setuju saja jika Den Bei Taipan mau bikin mall di sini,” ujar Drs. Gingsir, usai menenggak anggur.

“Terima kasih. Terima kasih. Bapak ternyata sangat welcome. Saya sudah menyiapkan segalanya. Termasuk dana untuk ini dan itu. Dan saya setuju, prinsip kerjasama ini adalah bagi hasil keuntungan. Bagaimana kalau saya mengajukan angka 30:70.” Den Bei menenggak anggur.

“Den Bei, saya mesti mengusulkan hal ini pada Dewan. Dan biasanya, jawabannya agak lama. Anda tahu sendiri, mereka juga butuh angpao. Yaahhh… seperti biasanya. Dan, lancar tidaknya segala urusan ya tergantung besar kecilnya angpao,” ujar Gingsir sambil tertawa.

“Apa dalam hal bagi hasil keuntungan masih ada masalah?”

“Ya, terjemahkan sendiri. Anda kan konglomerat yang cerdas.”

“Bagaimana kalau… kalau… 35: 65. Ini sangat besar. Tidak ada tawaran segila ini.”

“Tampaknya angka itu masih telalu kecil. Dan saya masih bisa menawarkan proyek ini kepada konglomerat lain. Saya kenal beberapa penguasaha besar dari Ibu Kota.” Gingsir mencoba menggertak.

Wajah Den Bei tampak terlipat. Keningnya berkerutan. “Bagaimana kalau 40:60? Ini peningkatan yang sangat progresif dan signifikan.”

“Well… well… well…. Itu angka yang bagus.”

Keduanya tertawa.

“Dan Den Bei masih bisa bikin mall di kota ini. Berapa pun. Anda bisa pilih, alun-alun, bekas benteng Rotenberg, atau di Monumen Joang.”

“Semua tempat akan saya ambil. Tapi, berdasarkan pertimbangan strategi ruang, saya akan bangun dulu mall di Monumen Joang. Tempat itu sangat seksi. Tepat di tengah kota.”

“Oooh, itu pilihan yang cerdas, visioner. Saya nggak keberatan monumen yang kumuh itu digusur.”

Keduanya tertawa. Keduanya jabat tangan.

***

Beberapa hari kemudian, terjadi keributan di Monumen Joang. Cahaya matahari yang sangat terik seolah semakin membakar suasana yang memanas.

“Pengkhianat! Culas! Licik. Sombong! Penguasa demi penguasa datang ternyata hanya bertukar rupa. Mereka tetap saja menikamkan pengkhianatan demi pengkhianatan di tubuh kita!” Wibagso menghentakkan kakinya hingga bangunan monumen itu bergetar.

“Mereka menganggap kita tak lebih dari bongkahan batu beku. Mereka hendak menggerus kita menjadi butiran-butiran masa silam yang kelam!” teriak Ratri.

Sidik, Durmo, dan Cempluk tersenyum.

“Kenapa kalian diam? Kita ini akan diluluhlantakkan! Lihatlah buldoser-buldoser itu datang. Berderap-derap. Kita harus bertahan. Bertahan!” pekik Wibagso.

Terdengar suara petugas penggusuran dari sebuah megafon. “Kalian harus menyingkir! Menyingkir!!” Suara itu tumpang-tinding dengan deru mesin buldoser.

Di depan monumen, Yu Seblak memimpin penghadangan penggusuran. “Kita harus bertahan. Kita lawan buldoser-buldoser itu! Ajeng, Karep, Kalur di mana kalian? Di mana?” teriak Yu Seblak. Wajahnya menyala.

“Kami di sini! Di belakangmu!” jawab mereka kompak.

Deru mesin buldoser semakin keras, mengepung monumen. Para petugas penggusuran tampak berjaga-jaga bersama ratusan polisi bersenjata lengkap. Buldoser-buldoser semakin merangsek. Moncongnya tampak ganas, siap menyeruduk monumen.

“Lihatlah, mereka yang hanya gelandangan saja membela kita. Mestinya kalian malu!” teriak Wibagso.

“Wibagso! Kalau kami akhirnya melawan itu bukan membela kepongahan kita sebagai pahlawan. Tapi membela mereka yang punya hak hidup!” teriak Sidik.

“Aku tak butuh penjelasan. Aku hanya butuh kejelasan sikap! Ratri, meloncatlah kamu, masuk ke ruang kemudi, lalu cekik leher sopir buldoser. Cempluk, tahan moncong buldoser itu. Ganjal dengan tubuhmu. Sidik dan kamu Durmo, hancurkan mesin-mesin buldoser itu. Cepat!” Wibagso mengatur perlawanan seperti mengatur para pejuang ketika menghadapi tentara-tentara penjajah.

Buldoser-buldoser terus merangsek. Menerjang orang-orang yang tetap bertahan. Karep, Ajeng, dan banyak gelandangan lainnya, berlarian lintang-pukang.

“Kalian benar-benar pengecut!” teriak Yu Seblak.

“Sia-sia melawan mereka. Jumlah mereka ternyata buaanyak sekali!” teriak Kalur.

“Kita menyingkir saja! Pahlawan saja mereka gilas, apalagi kecoa macam kita. Menyingkir! Menyingkir!” Karep mencoba menarik Yu Seblak yang tetap berdiri beberapa meter dari buldoser-buldoser.

Yu Seblak tetap bertahan. Tetap melawan. Ia lucuti pakaiannya. Tinggal celana dalam dan kutang. Dasternya ia kibar-kibarkan ke udara.

“Dasar kalian penindas! Ayo lawan aku! Ayoooo!”

Buldoser-buldoser itu tanpa ampun menggilas tubuh Yu Seblak. Terdengar jeritan.

Wibagso tersentak. Ratri menjerit seperti kemasukan setan. Durmo, Sidik, dan Cempluk, tampak kalap. Mereka mengamuk. Menghantam buldoser-buldoser itu dengan benda apa saja. Namun, sia-sia. Justru patung-patung pahlawan itu kini bertumbangan dan hancur dilumat buldoser-buldoser.

***

Bulan di angkasa mengerjap. Angin mati.

“Kalian telah membunuh kami untuk kedua kalinya,” ujar Wibagso lirih.

Ucapan itu menerobos pembukaan resmi mall oleh wali kota Drs. Gingsir dan hingga kini, suara-suara patung-patung itu masih terus mengalun, bergema menembus lapisan-lapisan waktu. Namun hanya telinga setajam kesunyian yang mampu menangkap suara itu, gugatan itu.

***

Wikan Satriati adalah lulusan Fakultas Sastra Universitas Gadjah Mada, Indonesia. Sejak tahun 2001 bekerja sebagai penyunting buku sastra dan budaya, serta menjadi penerjemah lepas. Wikan menerjemahkan dari bahasa Inggris ke bahasa Indonesia esai-esai Harry Aveling dalam buku Secrets need Words: Indonesian Poetry 1966-1998 (Center for International Studies Ohio University, 2001). Terjeman buku ini diterbitkan oleh IndonesiaTera tahun 2004 dengan judul Rahasia Membutuhkan Kata: Puisi Indonesia 1966-1998. Buku ini terpilih sebagai salah satu buku bermutu oleh Program Pustaka Yayasan Adikarya IKAPI.

Wikan adalah penulis dua buku cerita anak: Gadis Kecil Penjaga Bintang (KataKita, 2008) dan Melangkah dengan Bismillah (KataKita, 2006). Sekarang Wikan bekerja sebagai pengelola bagian penerbitan di Yayasan Lontar, sebuah lembaga yang salah satu tujuan utamanya memperkenalkan sastra Indonesia ke mancanegara dengan menerjemahkan karya-karya sastra Indonesia ke dalam bahasa Inggris.

Wikan dapat dihubungi di wikan_satriati@yahoo.com.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

***

 

The Statues’ Conversation

At dawn, a silvery moon the size of a watermelon hung in the city sky. Its soft light layered with mist illuminated the five statues of the heroes on top of the Joang Monument, a neglected war memorial that now served as a shelter for the homeless. The moonlight seemed to energize the statues, enabling them to move out of their rigid pose. It was as if they took the opportunity to free themselves from the grip of the townsmen who were still sound asleep in the folds of their blankets.

Each of the five statues, three men and two women, shook their legs and moved their hands. Some of them sat, while others lay down. Standing for more than forty years had tired them out. The rigid faces cast in concrete often grimaced like living people that moan, complain, scream, and shout.

The statue known as Wibagso unslung his rifle. “In the past when our bodies lay here, the town was very quiet. At night only a few dozen lights glowed like fireflies. Now, tens, even hundreds of lights, shine as bright as daylight. This country is really great.”

“But look there, Brother Wibagso. A group of hobos jostle each other like maggots feasting on a dog’s corpse. And there, rows of rickety huts where the homeless are crammed together like parasites clinging to the walls of buildings.

“The odor coming from their gaping mouths is like the stench of decaying corpses and attracts millions of flies. Oh, my Lord, they’re chewing those trapped flies,” hissed the statue of a man named Durmo.

Ratri, the statue of a woman known as a spy for the guerrillas, snapped, “That’s normal, Brother Durmo. In an affluent country, poverty is always nurtured as an inspiration for progress. We should be proud. This country is very rich. Look there, rows of luxury homes are occupied by happy families. There are luxury cars, private golf courses, and even private airplanes. And over there, people dance until the morning. Gosh, they’re even having an orgy.”

Sidik, whose statue examined the world around him with dazed eyes, moaned like a cow facing death in the slaughterhouse. “They are only concerned with their own stomachs and genitals. I’m really sorry to have participated in the liberation of this country.”

“I too am no longer sure about being a hero,” Durmo said. “We stand here being nothing more than scarecrows in the fields. They show us no consideration, let alone respect. They uproot anything shamelessly.”

“Do not get too sentimental. I think we still have their respect. As you can see, they built a magnificent monument for us,” said Wibagso.

“But why did they put us in this narrow spot? How come a memorial for war heroes is tucked away here?” the statue of Cempluk, a woman known as a soup kitchen worker, bellowed.

***

The morning breeze brought a new day. The homeless sleeping at the foot of the monument woke and stretched. They yawned in unison. A foul odor from their yellowed teeth filled the surrounding air and wafted by the statues of the heroes.

The statues returned hurriedly to their own place before the quiet morning was claimed by the hustle and bustle of the city, before the hot cloudy breath of the city polluted the clean morning air.

Standing in their original positions, the statues kept mumbling.

Yu Seblak, the senior prostitute known as caretaker of the monument, sat in prayer at the foot of the monument. She held a pot of smoldering incense as she raised her hands above her head. A whirl of dancing smoke followed the movements of Yu Seblak’s hands—to the right, left, up, and down. Yu Seblak’s gestures were followed by the handful of people that sat behind the woman with striking makeup. She chanted a mantra.

Wibagso followed the ceremony led by Yu Seblak. “I hear people pray to us. They even bring us offerings, flowers, snacks, and incense cigarettes.”

“Damn! They consider us ghosts. Some of them even asked for a prediction of a winning lottery number. What the hell is this, Wibagso?” Durmo shouted.

“Shhh. Calm down. What’s wrong with giving them a little happiness? Think of this as an intermezzo in our journey toward eternity,” Wibagso said.

“When they ask heroes to predict winning lottery numbers, it is too much,” Cempluk protested.

“Their lives are troubled, Comrade Cempluk. They can only complain to us. No one among the living cares. They only berate them,” said Ratri.

Yu Seblak continued her chanting in a fast rhythm. After she was done with her prayers, Yu Seblak received various complaints from her “patients.”

“It is impossible to ask the heroes to prevent hookers from being arrested. It’s not proper.”

“I always get arrested, Yu. That’s how I lost my customers. Who knows? The city officials might fear Kanjeng Wibagso and the other heroes and not arrest me again. Please help me, Yu.” Ajeng smoothly handed Yu Seblak an envelope.

Yu Seblak quickly slipped the envelope into her bra. “Let’s see. Hopefully, His Excellency Wibagso and his colleagues will consider your request.”

Wibagso smiled.

Sidik nodded.

Durmo looked offended. “They are hopeless. The arrests of prostitutes, beggars, and bums are none of our business. They should complain to Parliament, with representatives of the community among its members.”

“The parliamentarians are more interested in vying for power and dividing the bribes they receive for breaking regulations and laws. Or they are too busy trying to put their hands on the country’s money. The parliamentarians won’t do anything,” said Sidik.

“You only think of politics. Let’s just collect their complaints,” said Wibagso.

Durmo looked into the distance. “But we have many things to do, man. We still have the responsibility to account for what we did when we were alive. During combat, I shot our enemies mercilessly, just like I’d shoot a rat.”

Wibagso tried to cheer up Durmo. “Why are you bothered? War allows everything. We could not be gentle to an enemy that preyed on our lives. We did not kill them for the satisfaction of seeing their bodies convulse as they died. We only claimed our rights.”

“We have to regard everything we experienced as a consequence of the choice we made, and believe that the angels recorded our good deeds and will see to it that we are rewarded,” Ratri chimed in.

***

The next night the homeless went back to sleep at the foot of monument. Some of them looked restless, others seemed calm and snored. The statues looked with pity and affection at the homeless who faithfully kept them company.

From a cigarette stall beside the monument, a radio broadcasted the evening news: “The Joang Monument, which is a tribute to five warriors killed in the Kota Baru battle against the Dutch army, will be restored. A proposal to raise the heroes’ status from local to national heroes has been issued. The district government has earmarked three billion rupiah for the refurbishment fund.”

The five statues heard the news. Wibagso jumped up in delight. Ratri began to dance, but Cempluk seemed unhappy. She appeared to be quietly thinking. Durmo remained anxious while Sidik stood motionless, statue-like, even though he had been a statue for decades.

“Why are you silent? We should celebrate,” Wibagso said.

“What’s so important? I don’t care what they will do to this monument. Let them restore it or whatever, I just don’t care. I’m not proud to be a hero. The country I fought for became a cornucopia for only a few people, while millions of others are sentenced to be garbage cans for the remnants of the party,” Sidik said, somberly.

“The affairs of this country are no longer our business. We did our jobs. We only have to be grateful to see our children and grandchildren live happily,” Wibagso snapped.

“But millions of ill fated people continue to scream. Their screams pound at my heart.” Sidik glared at Wibagso.

“Please, you’re a spirit now. How can you be so sentimental? Don’t worry about it.”

“But my heart is still alive.”

Wibagso embraced Sidik. “Brother, don’t keep thinking about this. It will make you tired and frustrated. It’s time for us to rest.”

“So, we just keep quiet? Do nothing while so much wrong happens in front of us? Is that what you want?” Sidik was furious.

“But what can we do now? We’re no longer alive, we’re only spirits.”

“Only spirits?”

“Whatever you call it, we can’t do anything any more. We live in a different world than those who survived. Regarding our country, it’s true, not everything makes us happy. Some people have a good life and others don’t. That’s normal, right? You also have to remember that life is a race. There will be winners as well as losers.”

Sidik looked annoyed and reluctantly listened to Wibagso. “I’m tired of listening to sermons. When I was alive, I was preached to all the time. My elders filled me with advice. And wouldn’t you know, I’m expected to listen to advice even after my death. I am tired, Brother, I am tired.”

Ratri glared at Sidik and said, “Don’t tell me you fought the revolution half-heartedly, Brother Sidik.”

“How can you say that?” Sidik responded angrily. “My crooked foot is a result of the battle, and I even exposed my chest to their bullets.”

“In that case, I suffered worse. When I seized an enemy-controlled city, dozens of bullets were fired at me mercilessly and perforated my body. But I was satisfied. My bravery encouraged our friends and we managed to win the battle in the end. All of it happened thanks to me,” said Wibagso.

“It’s easy to stake your claim to fame,” Durmo snapped. “During that battle, Sidik and I stood in the very front of the battlefield. We faced the enemies at the front line. Where were you, Wibagso? You scampered into the forest and mountains and shamelessly claimed to be a guerilla fighter.”

“But I had the idea to attack. I also led the attack that dawn,” Wibagso retorted.

“Who made you our leader, Wibagso? We were nothing more than a group of young men with lots of guts. There were no official positions, no hierarchy. Especially no commanders of the war,” said Durmo.

“To win the battle, we not only needed physical power, we needed brains too. We needed to use strategy,” said Wibagso.

“But strategy without guts is like having a head without legs,” Durmo argued.

“Brother Wibagso,” Sidik said, “Why are you busy tallying merits that actually amount to nothing?”

Wibagso blushed. “Learn to appreciate accomplishments of others. Don’t act as if you were the only hero.”

“I don’t remember boasting. When did I do so? I left when the commander in chief came to visit after we successfully destroyed the enemy. I could have enlisted as an official soldier and be recorded in the state’s annuals. If I had done that, today I would be a high state official and acquire many projects. Thank God I died before that happened,” said Sidik.

Durmo retorted. “I told my children and other descendants not to mention my services just to get a meager allowance, which would also have many deductions.”

“All of you are hypocrites,” Wibagso railed.

The moon blinked.

The air was heavy.

***

The city breathed again. Hobos, prostitutes, and pickpockets woke and started their daily activities. Some went hawking, and others went begging or to polish shoes. Then there were those who lazily stretched on their sleeping mats.

“Where are you going, Ajeng?” asked Yu Seblak.

“To the motel. I have an appointment.” She applied her lipstick.

“You’ll be making a lot of money. Who is your date today, Jeng?” Yu Seblak teased.

“Why do you want to know? It’s a secret.”

“It’s Jumingan, the police officer. He’s crazy about you. By the way, don’t forget to bring me back gudeg rice with egg. This happened because I sent your prayer to the heroes.”

Ajeng laughed happily. “Sure, Yu. You can even ask for gudeg with chicken wings or thighs.”

“You look gorgeous. Just go now.”

Kalur, a skilled pickpocket, woke and drank his remaining mineral water. He sat down beside Karep who was called the intellectual bum because he liked to read and spoke in long sentences that were difficult to understand. Karep was absorbed in the newspaper.

“According to my analysis, the monument restoration plan is a trick of the government. There must be a hidden agenda,” Karep commented.

“If the monument is restored, we won’t be able to live here, right?” asked Kalur.

“Yep, that’s right.”

“What will we do if it really happens?”

“We will take to the street. We’ll mobilize all the homeless in this city.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the newscast from Yu Seblak’s transistor radio. “Dr. Gingsir, the new mayor who replaced Raden Mas Picis, has canceled the Joang Monument restoration plan. According to him, the project is superfluous. Moreover, the petition to raise the status of Wibagso and his colleagues to that of national heroes has been rejected by the national history expert team. The fund of three billion rupiah will be used to provide food stamps to the poor.”

Some of the bums cheered and started to dance. Others banged on mineral water containers, biscuit cans, bottles, and buckets. They danced while drinking cheap liquor.

***

Fog cloaked the pale moon. The city had gone back to sleep. However, in the local government building, the lights were still on.

Dr. Gingsir sipped his wine and said, “I agree with your idea to build a mall here, Den Bei Taipan.”

“Thank you. You are very supportive, sir. I’ve set everything up, including the necessary funds. I agree the main purpose of this collaboration is to share the profits. What do you think if I offered a thirty–seventy split?” Den Bei gulped his wine.

“Den Bei, I have to propose this plan to the zoning board. Usually they need quite a bit of time to respond. As you know, they will also need angpao, a bribe. That’s just the way it is, and the way things are handled depends on the size of bribe we provide,” Gingsir said with laugh. “Is there a problem with the profit share?”

“You figure that one out. You’re a smart businessman.”

“How about thirty-five–sixty-five? This is huge. No one will give you such a crazy offer.”

“It’s too small. I can offer the project to others. I know some great businessmen in the capital,” Gingsir bluffed.

Den Bei’s face darkened. His forehead wrinkled. “How about forty–sixty? This is a very progressive and significant enhancement.”

“Well, well, well. That’s a good number.”

Both of them laughed.

“You will have the opportunity to build as many malls in this city as you want. Just choose the place: the city square, the old Rotenberg fortress, or the Joang Monument.”

“I’ll take all of them. But because of space, I will build my first mall in Joang Monument location. It’s a very viable site, right in the middle of the city.”

“That’s a smart choice, even visionary. I don’t mind having that crumbling monument removed.”

They laughed and shook hands.

***

A few days later, the heat of the sun was met by upheaval around the monument.

“Traitor. Liar. Cheater. Windbag. The authorities come and go, and are all the same. They continue to stab us in the back with their betrayals.” Wibagso stamped his foot and made the monument shake.

“They think we’re nothing but blocks of cold stone. They want to grind us into the grains of a dark past,” Ratri said.

Sidik, Durmo, and Cempluk smiled.

“Why are you silent? We will be destroyed. Look at those bulldozers coming. March on. We have to survive,” cried Wibagso.

An eviction officer shouted through a loudspeaker, “You have to leave. Get out.” His voice overlapped the roar of bulldozers.

In front of the monument, Yu Seblak led her friends to stop the eviction. “We have to survive. We will head off the bulldozers. Ajeng, Karep, Kalur, where are you?” cried Yu Seblak. Her face lit up.

“We are here. Right behind you,” they replied in unison.

The roar of bulldozer engines grew louder and surrounded the monument. Eviction officers and heavily armed police stood guard. The bulldozers pushed ahead, their compact boomers ready to plow into the monument.

“Though they’re just bums, they still try to defend us. You should be ashamed,” said Wibagso.

“We don’t fight to defend our pride as heroes. We fight for those who have the right to defend their lives,” cried Sidik.

Wibagso organized their defense as if he were ordering the revolutionist when fighting the colonial army. “I don’t need any explanation, just your firm support. Ratri, jump into the cab and strangle the driver. Cempluk, hold the boom and block it with your body. Sidik and Durmo, destroy the engines. Go, hurry.”

The bulldozers moved ahead and ran into the remaining homeless. Karep, Ajeng, and the others scampered.

“You are cowards,” said Yu Seblak.

“It is useless to fight. They’re so many of them,” said Kalur.

“Let’s just get out. If they are willing to crush the heroes, they definitely won’t care about cockroaches like us. Get out. Get out.” Karep tried to drag Yu Seblak, who stood a few meters from the bulldozers.

Yu Seblak remained. Still fighting, she took off her clothes until she wore only her panties and bra. She fluttered her dress in the air.

“Hey, you bullies. Come and fight me. Come on!”

The bulldozers pushed ahead and crushed Yu Seblak. There was a scream.

Wibagso startled. Ratri screamed hysterically. Durmo, Sidik, and Cempluk, went crazy. In a rampage they hit the bulldozers with anything they could get their hands on. But all their efforts were in vain. The bulldozers toppled the statues, collapsed and crushed the heroes.

***

The moon blinked in the sky. The wind died.

“You have killed us twice,” Wibagso said in a whisper.

His voice penetrated Dr. Gingsir’s speech at the official opening of the mall. The voices of the heroes will echo through the passing of time, but only an ear sharp enough to hear silence can hear those voices, those grievances.

***