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Karya Yuita

2009-02-15T23:11:00.000-08:00

Tasbih-ku

Sajadah panjang nan lusuh
Terlihat begitu usang
Tak terjamah sedikitpun
Oleh tanganku...

Qur'an suci yang berdebu
Begitu utuh kulihat disana
Tak tersentuh oleh raba ku sekalipun...

Tak terenyuh pandanganku atasnya
Tak teringat dosa yang ku punya...

Tuhan...
Rupanya aku ini telah jauh dariMu...
Rupanya aku ini layak menempati jahanamMu
Ampuni aku Tuhan...

Sujud sembahku mungkin tak berarti
Air mataku tak bisa ku sesali
Tak sedikitpun dosaku berkurang

Illahi Robbi...
Tuntunlah aku
Kembali ke jalan lurusMu...

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Asa-ku

Untuk sebuah kisah yang tak dapat
kulukis lewat sebuah gambar...
Untuk sebuah cerita yang tak dapat
Ku ungkap lewat bahasa...

Aku mencintaimu...
begitu dalam di lubuk sanubariku
Namun maaf itu hanya bisa
Kuteriakkan dalam rasaku
Tak pernah bisa ku jeritkan
Dalam pita suara indahku...

Sang cinta...
Ku hanya ingin kau tahu
Apa rasaku...
Tak ingin slalu terkalahkan
oleh kesalahpahaman yang ada

Maafkan jika ku lukaimu
Terus sakitimu...
Namun ku berjanji
kan sembuhkan semuanya
dengan cintaku...

karya alfiyah

2009-02-15T22:56:00.000-08:00

"SAHABAT"

Sahabat...
Ketika bintang bersinar pada satu titik
Itulah kehidupan yang sedang kita jalani
Berbalut suka, duka, tawa, canda dan air mata

Sahabat...
Ketika bintang itu harus meredup
Adalah waktu yang menjawab kebersamaan
Melangkah berbeda arah untuk impian tersimpan

Sahabat...
Tetap ukir namaku dalam hati
dan pikiranmu
Jagalah rasa dalam ikatan ini
Meski kita berbeda arah dan langkah

Selama bumi berputar
Selama jiwaku dan jiwamu
Kita akan selalu satu
meski terhalang jarak dan waktu

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*Hanya Sebuah Maaf*
Keraguanmu berkata
Membuatku ragu berharap
Akan ada secercah mentari yang menyempatkan
diri untuk datang menyapaku
Cobalah kau tanyakan pada hujan
Yang menepi di bumi

Malam itu bintang-bintang berkata
Benarkah aku pantas berdiri menopang harapanmu?
Menyelamatkanmu dari buih-buih angin
Yang menerbangkanmu
Lalu menjatuhkanmu

Padahal aku tahu,
Aku melihat fatamorgana
Yang tak asing bagiku
Namun tak juga nyata menjemputku
Padahal aku mau

Jika ada yang tahu
Satu saja yang kumau
Maaf...

Galery Karya Atieka

2009-02-06T06:15:00.000-08:00

Sesaat aQ mendengar kau bernyanyi
Menyanyikan lagu tentang cinta
Cinta yang tulus yang selalu ku tunggu darimu
Tapi itu semua hanyalah semu

Kini kau menghilang dari hidupku
Dimana sih kamu ?

Kadang aQ menangis dalam lelap tidurku
Tak ada seorang pun yang tahu
aQ selalu merindukanmu di setiap detik hidup Q
Hidup Q tak kan berarti bila kau tak di sisiku
Rasa rindu yang begitu dalam, yang menghampiri Q
Tak kan mudah hilang begitu saja
Jika kau menemaniku di sini
Walau satu detik saja
Rinduku padamu akan sedikit terobati

Kau tak pernah merasakan apa yang aQ rasakan
Hanya bintang – bintang di langit malam yang s’lalu mendengarkan
Rasa cinta & Rindu Q padamu
Yang begitu dalam

By : A.S

=============================================================================

Tak pernah terpikirkan o/ Q
Kau akan pergi jauh dari hidup Q
aQ berusaha u/ membuatmu tetap di sini
tapi aQ rasa hal itu tak akan mungkin terjadi

Ketika kamu pergi
Akankah kau mengatakan
“AQ tak mencintaimu, seperti yang pernah Q lakukan sebelumnya “

Suatu malam aQ menangis begitu keras
Begitu lelah dan menyakitkan tentang semua pukulan yang aQ
Rasa.

Tapi sayangnya,
Mungkin kamu tak akan pernah kembali
Semuanya akan terasa sunyi lagi.

Sekali lagi aQ bertanya.
Ketika kamu akan pergi,
Inginkah kau mengatakan :
“ aQ tak mencintaimu, seperti yang pernah Q lakukan sebelumnya “

By : A.S

Inspirasi dari :
-I don’t Love You-
- MCR –

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Ketika aQ melihat kehidupan Q di dalam layar.
Kehidupan tentang sakit hati yang tak kan pernah bisa
Terbayar
aQ benci akhir diri Q
Tapi ini semua kenyataan

aQ berteriak di kerumunan orang banyak
aQ pikir..
Itu hanya memberikan aQ sakit hati yang bertambah banyak

Jika aQ memang begitu salah.
Apakah kamu bisa mendengar tangisan Q di semua malam
Panjang ?
Dan akankah ini semua penting setelah aQ menghilang ?

Kamu hanyalah sebuah lagu sedih
Dengan tidak adanya lirik yang bisa u/ dinyanyikan
Tentang sebuah hidup yang panjang & menunggu

Jika kamu berpikir aQ salah
Mungkin ini semua tak ‘kan pernah ada artinya bagi dirimu
Tapi, akan selalu aQ perlihatkan arti itu semua bagi hidup Q

By : A.S

Inspirasi dari :
- Disenchanted -
- MCR -

Galery Karya Sutisna

2009-02-01T22:36:00.000-08:00

By : Sutisna
Diambil dari pengalaman
Amarullah

“ Kenangan yang tertinggal ”

Mengapa kau acuhkan ku
Setiap hari aku slalu
Menantimu
Ingatkah ketika kau dan aku
Menjalani waktu bersama
Tapi kini aku tidak punya
Harapan lagi
Entah mengapa kamu
Tidak peduli kpd ku
Apakah ? kau tak mencintai
Ku lagi ?
Senyummu yang memberi
Warna bagi hari-hariku
Dengan penuh harapan
Oh Tuhan dapat kah
Aku memiliki
Dia kembali

Galery Dadan Bardah

2009-01-31T21:49:00.000-08:00

Pagi itu Desi sedang tiduran di kamarnya dengan bersantai-santai. Kadang sesekali ia melamun memikirkan sesuatu.Sambil memeluk boneka tedy bearnya itu dia bicara sendiri.
"wah...liburan tiba nih...!!!Q mau kemana ya?Ke tempat rekreasi udah biasa, ke pantai apalagi.Dimana ya...? Saat sedang melamun, tiba-tiba mama memanggil desi.
"Desi...des..." Teriak mama dari bawah.
"Ya mah"Kemudian Desi keluar dari kamarnya.
"Des tolong antarkan ini kerumah kakek ya..."
"Apa mah...Kerumah kakek, kan jauh..."
"udah ga apa* sXan liburan."rayu mamah.
"aduh mah...tapi..."Lalu mama memotong pembicaraan desi.
"Tp...apa...Lagian deket ini"
"Ya...udah deh"
Kemudian desi langsung pergi dgn sepeda motornya yang berwarna hitam itu.Lalu di jalan dia ngomel terus.
"Ya ampun mama ko tega sih nyuruh anaknya pergi sendirian, udah gitu pake sepeda motor lagi..."
Saat sdg mengomel tiba-tiba turun hujan sangat deras.Tp mw gmn lagi ujan turun dan desi pun sudah basah kuyup.
* * *

"Ass...Kek...nek..."
"wss...desi...Ya ampun cucu nenek koq basah begini..."Tanya nenek.
"Iya nek td dijalan kehujanan..."
Kemudian desipun segera mengganti bajunya dan setelah itu dia langsung duduk bersama kakek-neneknya disebuah sofa yang bewarna cokelat. Yang terbuat dari busa yg sangat empuk.
"Brrr..rr...Nek dingin banget nih....Hachi...Hachi..."
"Ha...Ha... km masuk angin ya..."Tanya kakek smbil tertawa.
"lho...koq kakek ketawa sih q dingin kek"...
"Habis kamu lucu sih, ya udah minum nih...biar km anget ya..."kata nenek.
Desipun langsung meminum teh tsb dengan tangan yang gemetar. Kemudian desi tertidur di sofa.Mungkin dia capek dan karena dia pusing jadi dia tidur di sofa tsb.Tak lama kemudian tiba-tiba datang seorang tamu.
tok...tok..."Permisi...ass...apa ada orang...?"
"Wss..."lalu kakek langsung membukakan pintu dan mempersilahkan lelaki duduk
"Makasih kek..."
"Oh ya sama-sama,...emh...mm ade ini siapa ya...?"
"Perasaan kamu bukan orang sini ya?"tanya kakek penasaran.
"saya deny, saya memang bukan warga sini.Saya itu mau pulang tp hujan sgt deras.Jd saya mampir ke sini untuk menginap semalam.Boleh kan...?" Jawab deny dgn panjang lebar.
"ini nak minum dulu tehnya biar agak anget.Trus kamu ganti baju sana biar gak masuk angin..." Perintah nenek.
"Ya nek makasih..."
Saat deny ganti baju, nenek dan kakekpun ngobrol panjang lebar.Sambil memijat-mijat kaki desy yang tertidur di sofa.Ya...mungkin kurang sopan, ada tamu tidur di sofa.Tp mw gmn lagi kakek ga tega buat bangunin desy.
"kek....keliatannya desi sakit ya..."
"ya nek badannya panas banget" Jawab kakek sambil memegang leher dan bagian jidatnya.Tiba-tiba deny keluar dari kamar mandi.
"Eh nak Deny , udah selesai ya...?"Tanya kakek.
"iya kek"
"ya udah sini duduk."
"Hm...mm" Dan tiba-tiba "Hachi...hachi..." Suara deny terdengar.
"Kamu masuk angin juga...?"
"Ga tau nek...Kepala ku pusing. Dari tadi pandanganku tidak jelas.Q juga jg ga jelas liat wajah kakek dan nenek, mungkin karena pusing.maaf ya..."
"Ya sudah kamu tidur sini biar kakek pijitin..."
Akhirnya deny dan desi pun tidur di ruang tamu karena kamar-kamar yang ada sedang dalam perbaikan.Dan mereka pun tanpa mereka sadari kalau mereka itu tidur bersampingan.
* * *
Keesokan harinya, mereka belum juga bangun walaupun matahari sudah terbit.Mungkin kepala mereka rasanya berat seperti ada benda yang sangat berat di atas kepala mereka.
"Kek...Mereka koq belum juga bangun ya...apa jangan-jangan mereka masih sakit?"
"Iya mereka pucat banget ya.Biar kakek periksa badan merekaapa mereka masih panasn atau tidak...?"Lalu kakek memeriksa badan mereka b'2. Dan ternyata....
"Ya ampun...nek mereka koq bisa samaan gini ya.badannya panas sekali.Kita harus segra mengompresnya nek...." Ucap kakek dgn wajah sangat khawatir.
Nenek dan kakekpun langsung mengompres mereka berdua dengan es batu yang diambil dari dalam freezer kulkas nenek yang berwarna hijau itu. Setelah dikompres nenk langsung masak bubur ayam untuk mereka berdua.Dan kakek juga masih ada disamping mereka.Tidak lama kemudian mereka berdua sadar dan dalam waktu yang bersamaan mereka berkata
"Nek...Kek...Koq kepalaku pusing banget ya? Tanya mereka berdua
"OO...OO ga pa* kalian kan tadi malam kehujanan. Dtg ke sini pada pingsan semua, ingetkan...?" Tanya kakek.
Kemudian dari arah dapur terlihat nenek berjalan menuju ruang tamu.Dimana ruang tamu tersebut ada kakek, deny dan desi yang sedang brbincang-bincang.
"Wah...Kalian sudah sadar rupanya..."
"Lho kalian, maksud nenek siapa, aku disini dengan kakek kan?"Tanya desi.
"Ya ampun desi...desi.Kamu gimana sih, dari tadi kamu ngobrol sama siapa?" Tanya nenek sambil tertawa geli melihat desi yang masih belum sadar betul.
Akhirnya merekapun berkenalan dan berbincang-bincang walaupun keduanya masih ada di atas sofa.Mungkin mereka masih pusing dan lemas.Sesekali mereka juga mencoba untuk bangun tp usahanya gagal.Bubur yang tadi nenek masak, sekarang sudah matang dan nenek pun mengantar dua mangkuk bubur ayam yang diberi potongan ayam, sedikit kecap dan kerupuk.
"Deny, Desi... ini makan dulu biar cepet sembuh..."
Lalu deny dan desi pun makan bubur tersebut.
"Tp...Nek..."
"Iya des, ada apa?" Tanya nenek.
"Nek...aku gak mau sarapan ya"
"Lho kenapa? buburnya ga enak ya?"
"Bukan Nek...Tp pait"
"Q juga ga mau ya..."Tambah deny.
"Ya ampun kamu itu harus makan klo ga kapan bisa sembuh?"
"Tapi nek..." Ucap mereka berdua dengan bersamaan
"HA....HA...Kamu ini lucu banget ya .Udah makan aja" bujuk nenek.
Setelah dibujuk nenek berkali-kali akhirnya mereka mau walaupun sedikit.
* * *
Kesokan harinya mereka berdua sudah mulai membaik.Mereka sudah bisa jalan-jalan keluar rumah. Pagi ini mereka berkeliling kampung, perkebunan dan persawahan.
"Den...kamu bener nanti siang mau pulang?"
"Ya rencananya sih"

Galery Karya Nova

2009-01-15T21:26:00.000-08:00

Gundah

Ketika hari terus bergulir
Kian hati semakin pilu
Setiap yang kuhadapi kini
Hanya rasa gundah dihatiku
Oh...tuhan apa inikah takdirku
Takdir yang harus aku jalani
Penderitaan yang ku tanggung sendiri
Mungkin kah ini salah ku
Sungguh aku sayang pada keluargaku
Sungguh aku tak ingin melihatnya sedih
Tapi mengapa mereka seakan membenciku
Aku selalu berharap ini hanyalah mimpi
Aku tidak akan mengerti akan hidup ini
Kadang kumerasa sedih dan kadang sebaliknya
Tapi ku tidak pernah lelah akan perjuagan
Karna ku percaya kebahagiaan telah menanti

Malam sepi sunyi dan tak berbintang
Kusambil termenung duduk seorang diri
Air mata berlinang jatuh tak tertahan
Mengenang nasib yang sedih dilanda duka
Menimpa tiada henti
Haruskah ku menyesali kenyataan ini
Semerbak harum bunga kini hilang sudah
Apakah ini suatu pertanda antara dua
Iinsan tak akan bersatu
Mungkinkah diriku penuh dengan dosa
Hingga terus dibayangi rasa kegelisahan
Dan ketakutan
Betapa pun dalam hati membayangkan
Kebahagiaan semata.

Dunia Pantun

•Panjang-panjang kayu rotan
Lebih panjang kayu jembatan
Panjang-panjang bekas coretan
Lebih panjang tali persahabatan

•Dibawah jembatan
Ada ular berbisa
Hilang persahabatan
Itu sudah biasa

•Buah duku buah rambutan
Cuci piring dikolong jembatan
Entah jodoh atau bukan
Yang penting persahabatan

•Sayur lontong
Dijalan Cendrawasih
Sudah ditolong
Ucapin terima kasih

By : Nova. N

Galery Karya Asriani

2009-01-15T21:22:00.000-08:00

Duniaku Yang Baru

Hari demi hari waktu silih berganti
Aku melangkah untuk mencapai cita-cita
Waktupun terus berjalan
Jalan hidupku yang menjadi pedoman untukku
Betapa berat tanggung jawab
Beban yang aku perjuangkan
Dari dunia lautan
Hingga dunia samudra
Demi sebuah kejujuran dan cita-cita
Untuk menyongsong masa depan
Bulan hanyalah sebagai renungan belaka
Aku tak ingin bertanya pada bulan
Karena jawaban dari pertanyaanku
Hanya ada pada diriku sendiri
So, no impossible words in the world

By : Asriani. R

Galery Karya Indri

2008-11-19T01:02:00.000-08:00

" The Living Death "

“ Hiduku sangat sepi, sepi dan sepi...”

“ Bagiku dunia ini bagaikan jeruji besi...”

“ Aku tidak mempunyai seorang teman pun di sini...”

“ Kecuali rembulan, bintang dan desau angin malam...”

“ Yang menghiburku di saat aku sedih...”

“ Dan menemaniku di saat aku sendiri...”

Di suatu pedalaman di Amerika, tinggallah sepasang suami istri bernama Louis Scouter dan Irene Scouter. Usia pernikahan mereka hampir dua belas tahun dan harta kekayaan mereka berlimpah ruah, tetapi mereka belum dikaruniai seorang anak pun.
Keadaan ini membuat Irene sang istri frustasi. “ Louis, umur kita sudah hampir kepala empat, tetapi kita belum dikaruniai seorang anak pun, aku takut jika kita tidak akan pernah mempunyai anak, aku takut jika itu sampai terjadi ! “
“ Tenanglah kau jangan dulu putus asa, semuanya bisa diatasi “
“ Apa maksudmu semuanya bisa diatasi ? “
Louis mendekati buku telepon, kemudian membukanya secara perlahan. Ia memulai menekan nomor di telepon, tampaknya ia mulai menghubungi seorang petugas panti asuhan di St. Paul yang ada di Minneapolis. Kebetulan, ada seorang anak perempuan berumur kurang lebih satu bulan lima hari anak itu bernama Luella. Tanpa ragu, spasang suami istri itu langsung mengendarai mobilnya dan menuju ke panti asuhan tersebut dan membawa anak itu ke rumah mereka. Selang beberapa tahun, suatu anugerah datang. Akhirnya, Irene mengandung dan melahirkan seorang anak perempuan yang mereka beri nama Chloe Joycline Scouter. Luella dan Chloe dibesarkan bersama hingga menginjak masa remaja.
Luella dan Chloe tumbuh menjadi gadis remaja yang cantik. Mereka disekolahkan di sebuah sekolah menengah di Bismark. Walaupun letaknya agak jauh dar rumah mereka, tetapi Luella dan Chloe tidak mempedulikannya, mereka sangat bersemangat dalam belajar. Luella mempunyai banyak teman di sekolahnya sedangkan Chloe tidak, dia lebih suka diam. Sehingga lama kelamaan teman-temannya menganggapnya tidak mau bergaul dan kemudian menjauhinya.
Suatu hari sepulang kerja, Irene memanggil Chloe kemudian mengajaknya ke tama yang ada di belakang rumah mereka. “ Chloe, aku ingin kau mengetahui suatu hal, aku rasa kau sudah cukup dewasa untuk mengetahuinya tetapi kau janji jangan memberitahukan hal ini kepada siapapun juga. Mengerti ? “
“ Baiklah aku janji, tapi apa itu ibu ? “
Irene melihat ke arah sekitar dengan waspada. “ Mmm..begini, kau tahu aku sangat menyayangi kalian berdua, kau dan kakakmu Luella adalah bagian dari hidupku, kalian adalah nafas yang selalu ku hirup, jantungku yang selalu berdetak. Aku tidak bisa hidup tanpa kalian berdua “. Irene menjelaskan
“ Luella, aku selalu memberikan apa yang diinginkannya, mencoba untuk membuatnya senang “. Terlihat air mata di ujung mata Irene yang bersinar karena cahaya, lama kelamaan mata dan hidungnya memerah, ia segera mendongkakkan kepalanya untuk menahan supaya air mata itu tidak jatuh membasahi pipinya yang merah. Tetapi akhirnya air mata itu mengalir dengan deras, dan ia langsung mengusapnya. “ Aku tidak mau kalau dia sampai curiga atau sampai mengetahui rahasia yang sudah dipendam selama tujuh belas tahun ini. Aku sama sekali tidak mau ! “ Lanjutnya sambil terisak
“ Tujuh belas tahun ? Maksud ibu apa ? aku sama sekali tidak mengerti...
“ Luella..” Jawab Irene sambil menangis.
“ Ada apa dengan Luella bu ? “
“ Dia..dia..dia bukan anak kandugku “
“ Apa ?! “
“ Tapi aku benar-benar sangat menyayanginya. Waktu ia masih kecil, aku mengangkatnya dari Panti Asuhan St. Paul. Nama anak itu Luella Lucas “. Irene kembali menagis.
Tak disangka pada saat tu Luella sedang berjalan-jalan di taman belakang untuk melihat-lihat bunga. Sangat disayangkan pula, dia mendengar pembicaraan Irene dan Chloe di sana. Ia membalikan wajahnya dan menyandarkan punggungnya di dinding lalu menangis. Segera ia lari menuju kamarnya dan membanting pintu dengan sekeras-kerasnya.
Judy, satu-satunya pembantu di rumah itu mendengar Luella membanting pintu. Ia sempat terkejut sesaat. Tetapi ia tidak mempedulikannya. Suatu hari yang cerah, Louis dan Irene pergi kerja, mereka kerja di sebuah perusahaan ternama di Minnesota. Judy pembantu mereka sedang cuti untuk pulang ke kampung halamannya.
Pada larut malam kira-kira jam sebelas malam, mereka baru saja pulang dari kantor. Luella dan Chloe sudah tidur terlelap di kamarnya masing-masing. Karena sangat lelah mereka sampai lupa untuk mengunci pintu, sehingga para pencuri masuk ke rumah mereka. Pencuri itu berjumlah delapan orang mereka hendak mencuri berkas-berkas dan barang-barang berharga milik keluarga Scouter. Louis mendengar langkah pencuri itu dari ruang tam. Ia pun membuka laci dan mengeluarkan senjata semacam machine gun kemudian ia pergi ke ruang tengah dan menodongkan senjata pada sekelompok pencuri. Tetapi kemudian ia sadar bahwa senjata yang ia punya tidak berpeluru tak ada waktu lagi bagi Louis, si pencuri itu menodongkan senjata ke arahnya dan dor..dor..dor...peluru itu mengenai dada Louis dan ia pun jatuh tersungkur seketika, nyawanya melayang..
Tak ada yang mendengar suara itu kecuali Irene. Ia pergi menuju sumber suara tembakan tersebutdan melihat Louis terbujur kaku tak bernyawa dan ia melihat darah di sekujur tubuh Louis. Irene menjerit. Salah seorang pencuri mendengar teriakan Lawrence dan tak ragu lagi ia pun menembaknya. Peluru itu menerjang kepalanya dan...
Irene meninggal seketika. Setelah mendapatkan yang mereka inginkan, para pencuri itu pun pergi meninggalkan Louis dan Irene yang sudah tak benyawa.
Luella pun terbangun dari tempat tidurnya. Alangkah kagetnya Luella saat melihat Irene dan Louis sudah tak bernyawa berlumurkan darah. Ia menjerit keras, Chloe mendengar suara teriakan Luella kemudian bangun dari tempat tidurnya dan berlari, ia terkejut dan berteriak “ Ayah..., Ibu..!!! “. Chloe segera berlari menghampiri Irene dan Louis. Ia menangis. Luella segera menyergap telepon yang berada tidak jauh darinya kemudian menekan nomor 911.
“ Halo, polisi..di rumah kami telah terjadi pembantaian dan perampokan. Bisakah anda datang ke rumah kami untuk menyelidikinya ? “
“ Baiklah, tapi sebelumnya saya akan meminta keterangan singkat dalam kejadian tersebut. Bisakah anda menjelaskannya ? “
“ Tidak ada waktu lagi !! Kau tahu sekarang jam berapa ? Waktu tidurku terbuang sia-sia gara-gara kejadian ini ! Aku tidak mau buang-buang waktu untuk hal semacam ini ! mengerti ?!! “
“ Baiklah, di mana tempat kejadian tersebut ? “
“ Di 14th Avenue Street, Stanmore 45 ! Rumah keluarga Scouter ! “
“ Nona Scouter, apa anda seorang diri di sana ? “
“ Tidak, saya bersama adik saya di sini...”
“ Baiklah, terima kasih kami akan segera ke sana...”
Beberapa bulan kemudian...

“ Bagaimana Luella, mana surat wasiatnya ? “
“ Kita akan tetap tinggal di sii Lucy, di rumah ini...”
“ Apa...? “
“ Ya begitulah, karena kita sudah tidak mempunyai sanak saudara lagi. Dan mulai
sekarang, kau tidur di gudang yang ada di loteng, sedangkan kamarmu yang dulu akan kujadikan kamar untuk teman-temanku yang akan menginap”
“ Maksudmu ...? “
“ Lihatlah surat wasiat ini, kau belum membacanya kan ? di sini dituliskan bahwa, sembilan puluh sembilan persen harta kekayaan keluarga Scouter adalah milikku dan sisanya adalah milikmu “

bersambung....

DETEKTIF AMATIR
Karya : Indri Rizky Amalia

Entah mengapa rasanya aku ingin berkilas balik tentang apa-apa yang telah kami lakukan bersama dengan teman-teman sekolahku, juga teman sepermainanku. Mira, Yesi, Gina, Gita, ditambah aku sendiri. Kami berlima menamakan diri ‘Lima Sekawan’ , mirip buku cerita warisan ibuku. Kami selalu berkhayal ingin menjadi pahlawan perkasa pembela kebenaran. Duh, senangnya. Kami ‘bermarkas’ di bawah pohon sawo, di halaman belakang kelas dua, tepatnya di dekat Warung Bi Tumi. Kami duduk di bangku kelas tujuh di sebuah SMP Negeri di kota kecil di Kabupaten X.
Apabila tiba waktu istirahat, kami selalu berkumpul sambil menikmati jajanan, diiringi semilir angin di musim kemarau. Nikmat rasanya.
Mira, ketua kelompok kami, selain pintar dia juga lumayan ceriwis. Dia juga dipercaya menjabat sebagai Ka - Em di kelas kami. Walaupun dia perempuan, tapi dia sangat tegas dalam memimpin, terutama kepada anak laki-laki yang susah diatur alias bandel-bandel. Kalau kebetulan Mira sakit, perasaan kami benar-benar merasa sangat kehilangan.
Aku, Cacha adalah anggota merangkap sebagai bendahara genk ini. Apabila ada teman kami yang sakit atau ada salah satu anggota kami yang kehabisan uang jajan, aku, kalau kebetulan ada selalu membantunya, begitu juga teman-teman yang lainnya. Walaupun jajan ala kadarnya, tapi rasanya menyenangkan sekali.
Sementara Yesi adalah tetangga depan rumahku. Sifat dia kurang labih sama, walu tidak bisa dibilang persis. Kami sama-sama pendiam, kata teman-teman sih, tipe pemikir. Orangtua ku dan orangtua Yesi sama-sama pedagang di pasar tradisional. Lain halnya dengan Gita dan Gina, mereka adalah saudara kembar yang sifatnya hampir mirip, yakni sama-sama ‘rame’, pokoknya mereka selalu sja bisa mencairkan suasana, apabila diantara kami diliputi ketegangan. Mungkin ini yang dinamakan kembar identik itu barangkali. Orang tua mereka adalah guru di sebuah sekolah swasta favorit di kota ku. Jadi boleh dibilang mereka orang yang berkecukupan.
Kami juga tidak pelit untuk berbagi ‘markas’ kami dengan teman-teman yang lain untuk sekedar ngobrol-ngobrol, atau kadang membahas mata pelajaran yang kami anggap sulit.
Kami berpendapat, selami kami masih bisa membantu teman-teman, mengapa tidak ? Tentu saja sekemampuan kami. Bukan sok pahlawan lho.
Genk kami bukan untuk gaya-gaya-an, kami hanya kebetulan bersahabat dari SD, menurutku itu sudah menjadi hal yang biasa apabila di sekolah ada yang berkelompok. Jadi sah-sah saja, selama tidak menimbulkan permusuhan diantara teman-teman yang lain.
Hari ini kami sedang mengerjakan ‘proyek investigasi’. Temanku yang lain, Lina selalu menjadi bulan-bulanan ‘Genk Keren’. Yah, mereka memang keren-kerendan mereka anak-anak orang kaya, tapi sayang mereka sombong-sombong.
Suatu hari, kami menemukan Lina sedang menangis sesenggukan di belakan gedung sekolah, Lina yang kami tahu, maaf.. hanyalah anak seorang tukang becak, yang penghasilannya tidak menentu. Ibunya seorang ibu rumah tangga biasa, yang selalu disibukkan oleh tangisan anak-anak
“ Kenapa kamu, Lin ? ” Mira membuka pembicaraan.
Lina hanya menunduk, tidak menjawab.
“ Ada apa, Lin ? ” Mira mengulan pertanyaan.
“ Iya ada apa ? “ Aku menimpali.
Tangis Lina semakin pecah.
“ Coba ceritakan ada apa ? “ tanyaku lagi
“ Aku tidak mencurinya “ Lina terisak
“ Mencuri apa ? kami tidak mengerti ? “ desak kami hampir bebarengan.
“ A..aku..aku….Demi Tuhan aku tidak mencurinya “ ulang Lina datar
Tiab-tiba si Anton berteriak,
“ Hai kalian..jangan dekat-dekat pencuri ! “
Kami semakin bingung, kali ini kami benar-benar telah ketinggalan berita. Maklum sedari tadi kami serius menghapal pelajaran Sains, soalnya di jam pelajaran terakhir nanti kami mau ulangan.
Lina bercerita bahwa tadi, sewaktu istirahat pertama, si Lola kehilangan uang jajan dua puluh ribu rupiah. Dia bersama anggota genk nya ‘Genk Keren’ menuduh bahwa Linalah pencurinya, karena kebetulan dia tidak keluar kelas. Dan setelah tasnya digeledah di hadapan teman-teman yang lain, ternyata mereka menemukan uang yang dimaksud. Mereka sangat yakin bahwa tidak mungkin si Lina memiliki uang sebanyak itu.
“Oh begitu….. “ aku menarik nafas dalam-dalam
Naluriku berkata, bahwa Lina tidak bersalah. Tapi masalahnya, siapakah pencuri sebenarnya ? Kami memeras otak bagaimana caranya membuktikan tuduhan palsu tersebut, dan yang paling penting supaya nama baik temanku Lina, pulih.
“ Mentang-mentang aku ini miskin, mereka seenaknya menuduhku pencuri “
Lina berkata lirih.
Singkat cerita, setelah ‘rapat’ sepulang sekolah kemarin, kami merencanakan sebuah rencana, yang hanya diketahui kami berlima. Soalnya kami tidak mau asal tuduh, kalu tidak ada bukti.
Asyik, ‘Lima Sekawan’ beraksi !
“ingkang becik ketitik, ingkang ala ketara”, itulah semboyan kami dalam menegakkan keadilan, menumpas ketidakadilan. He..he..Peribahasa ini aku dengar dari Ayah, lho.
“ Aku ada ide ! bagaiman kalau kita tanya teman-teman kelas yang lain , itu tuh kayak polisi detektif di film-film “. Cengir Yesi.
“ Iya bener, biar masih amatiran, rasanya kita gak kalah tuh sama pak polisi “
Timpal Gina. Kami pun tertawa bebarengan.
“ Ayo kita bagi-bagi tugas ! jangan buang-buang waktu ! “ Sahut Gita.
Setelah kami wawancara – tentu saja wawancara ala kami – teman-teman kami, ternyata mereka memang melihat Lina duduk di bangku Lola. Mereka hanya melihat Lina sedang membaca di bangkunya. Itu saja.
Kami semakin bingung, tapi kami tidak putus asa, pasti ada yang belum kami wawancarai. Tapi setelah dicek ulang ternyata sudah semua kami tanyai. Dan jawaban mereka sama, hanya Lina sendiri yang berada di dalam kelas. Aduh, tambah bingung !
Pada waktu istirahat tiba, seperti biasanya kami berkumpul di ‘markas’ kami. Kadang kalau lagi ‘sepi order’ kami juga tidak pelit membagi tempat kami untuk sekedar ngobrol-ngobol, atau berbagi cerita lucu.
Ini hari ketiga semenjak peristiwa itu, tapi kami belum menemukan titik terang. Maklum kami juga sibuk dengan tugas-tugas sekolah. Jadi mau tidak mau ‘proyek’ kami terbengkalai.
“ Jangan-jangan, memang benar si Lina pencurinya “ Yesi mulai meragukan kejujuran Lina.
“ Iya, maklum mis….” Gita tidak meneruskan kata-katanya.
“ Sssstt….jangan dulu berburuk sangka “ aku menimpali.
“ Kita harus konsekuen membela teman yang teraniaya “ lanjutku.
Tiba-tiba si Rara, teman lain kelas, datang.
“ Mudah-mudahan ada keajaiban “ gumamku.
Tanpa diminta si Rara nyerocos bahwa pada waktu pelajaran olah raga, artinya pada waktu kejadian, dia melihat si Lola, Tia dan Cindy, ‘Genk Keren’ itu sedang celingak celinguk mengawasi sekitar. Rupanya mereka memanfaatkan kesempatan kelengahan Pak Budi, guru olahraga kami. Kami berlima semakin mendekat mengerubuti Rara yang sedang menceritakan peristiwa tempo hari.
“ Karena mereka mencurigakan, jadi aku intip aja sekalian ! “ jelas Rara.
“ Kamu kok keluar kelas, mau apa ? “ tanyaku penasaran
“ Aku mau ke belakang “ Terang Rara.
Dia melihat si Lola mengeluarkan uangnya dan menaruhnya di tas Lina. Kami semakin geram mendengar keterangan Rara.
“ Kurang ajar benar mereka ! “ umpat Gina, sambil mengepalkan tangan.
“ Iya ! Keterlaluan ! Mentang-mentang orang kaya ! “ Yesi, dan Gita menimpali.
“ Sabar….sabar…” aku coba menenangkan mereka.
Ternyata mereka mencoba memfitnah si Lina dengan cara menyimpan uang si Lola sendiri ke dalam tasnya Lina. Sungguh keterlaluan !
Awalnya setelah kami tanyai, mereka mencoba untuk mengelak. Tapi berkat gertakan kami yang mau melaporkan kepada Bu Ety, wali kelas kami.
Akhirnya mereka mengakui, bahwa mereka hanya iseng.
“ Tapi ini sudah di luar batas ! “
bentak Mira ketua genk kami, diamini teman-teman yang lain.
Setelah didesak untuk meminta maaf, tanpa perlu dikomando lagi akhirnya mereka bertiga meminta maaf kepada Lina, disaksikan teman-teman yang lain. Sungguh akhir yang bahagia.
Kadang aku tak habis pikir, kenapa ada orang-orang yang selalu berbuat jahat, Padahal Tuhan selalu mengawasinya. Yach, namanya juga manusia, bisa saja khilaf. Aku mencoba memahami kekeliruan teman-temanku.
“ Cacha….!! Adikmu nangis tuh ! Ibu lagi masik nih ! “
Suara keras Ibuku membuyarkan lamunanku.
“ Yah…ibu, lagi asyik-asyiknya nge-lamun, capek deh…”
“ Hayoo…ngelamunin siapa nih…? “ tanya ibuku mesam-mesem.
“ Aduh ibu, ada-ada aja ! “
kataku sambil mencari sumber suara tangisan adikku.

MAAF APABILA TERDAPAT KESALAHAN KATA-KATA
ATAU PUN KESAMAAN NAMA/TOKOH DALAM CERITA
HARAP MAKLUM
‘MASIH BELAJAR’

Indri Rizky Amalia
Juni 2006

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KATA - KATA MUTIARA

Lidah bisa mempertemukan
Dua hati yang sebelumnya
Tidak saling kenal..
Lidah bisa mencairkan
Hati yang keras dan
Penuh amarah..
Tetapi lidah juga bisa menusuk
Hati orang lain, mengobarkan
Permusuhan dan dendam bahkan
Menciptakan perang besar..
Sepotong lidah bisa lebih
Buas dari mulut harimau,
Lebih tajam dari pisau
Dan lebih ganas dari kobaran
Api…

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Bersama adalah satu awal. Tetap bersama
Adalah kemajuan. Bekerja sama adalah
Kesuksesan…

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Perhatikan pikiran anda, karena pikiran menjadi
Kata-kata anda..
Perhatikan kata-kata anda, karena
Kata-kata menjadi tindakan anda..
Perhatikan tindakan anda, karena tindakan
Menjadi kebiasaan anda..
Perhatikan kebiasaan anda, karena
Kebiasaan menjadi karakter anda..

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Tidak ada gembok yang tidak bisa dibuka
Tidak ada simpul yang tidak bisa dilepas
Tidak ada jarak yang jauh yang tidak bisa
Didekatkan dan tidak ada yang hilang
Yang tidak bisa ditemukan..
Dan semua itu ada saatnya..

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Waktu telah menyiramiku dengan berbagai
Kesulitan, sehingga panah-panah yang menancap
Di kepalaku menjadi pelindung
Kalau sekarang aku tertembak panah,
Mata panahnya akan masuk membelah
Panah lainnya. Sekarang aku hidup tanpa
Peduli dengan kesulitan, karena aku tak
Mendapat manfaat apapun dengan
Mempedulikannya..

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Jadilah seperti semut , dalam ketekunannya
Dia berusaha merambat naik ke batang
Pohon hingga ratusan kali, dan jatuh
Sebanyak jumlah yang sama. Tapi dia
Terus berusaha naik kembali hingga akhirnya
Sampai pada tujuan yang diinginkan. Karena
Itu, jangan cepat menyerah dan bosan..

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Hati yang gersang itu laksana ikan yang
Terdampar di daratan, meronta-ronta mencari
Air untuk dapat bertahan..

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Lebih baik menjadi burung
Yang terbang bebas dari pada raja
Yang terbelenggu..

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Karya Ayu Anggraeni

2008-11-19T01:00:00.000-08:00

Sebuah masa yang panjang dimana seorang
Anak manusia harus bergelut dengan waktu
Demi bertahan hidup, demi mewujudkan cita-
Cita meski maya. Detik demi detik yang ber-
Kumpul menjadi menit dan berujung hari-hari
Berkepenjangan, berkelana dalam lenggangnya
Waktu. Seperti itulah hidup yang kini kujalani.
Tanpa obsesi dan tanpa kepastian. Walau kini
Kucoba tuk menguntai kata menjadi sebuah kisah
Akan hampa di hati, ku yakin tak akan terobati.

Apakah kalian tahu mengapa semua ini
Terjadi ???

Semua ini terjadi saat ku berada dalam
Kehangatan kasih sayangnya, kala itu ku merasa
Hidup ini penuh warna. Dia yang selau menjagaku,
Dia yang selalu memperhatikan aku, dia yang
Selalu memberiku keteduhan. Waktu demi waktu
Selau kuleweati penuh canda, penuh kebahagiaan
Kala bersamanya. Dapat kupastikan kebahagiaan
Hidupku yakni selalu berada disampingnya.
Tanpa kusadari bahwa kebahagiaan ini telah
Sampai pada batasnya.

Kebahagiaanku berakhir, kebahagiaanku
Telah sirna dan kebahagiaanku takkan
pernah lagi kembali padaku.

Apakah kalian tahu kenapa ???
Kenapa semua ini terjadi begitu cepat ???
Kenapa semua ini terjadi saat ku merasakan
Kebahagiaan ???
KENAPA ??????

Kau perlahan beranjak pergi, pergi menjauh
Tinggalkan diri ini. Kau biarkan aku kini ditemani
Oleh sepi dan hampa dan oleh ketidakpastian.
Kenapa kau biarkan aku rasakan kehampaan,
Kenapa dirimu relakan aku tanpa balutan
Kehangatan kasih sayang darimu KENAPA ???

Saat itu, mungkin kan jadi saat terakhirku
Bersamanya. Kuterjaga saat bibir manismu
Berucap bahwa kau hendak pergi ke kota
Yang jauh. Kini, aku bagai bongkahan batu
Yang terhimpit tanpa bisa berbuat apa-apa
Sebagai manusia biasa aku tak dapat lakukan
Apapun, hanya diam dan menunggu waktu.

Mungkin dengan cara ini aku akan lebih
Bijak, kan labih dapat menghargai waktu dan
Dapat lebih dewasa meski aku akui bahwa
aku belum bisa bersahabat dengan sepi dan
hampa namun akan aku coba meski tak
bisa dan menyiksa. Demi dirinya kurelakan
dan ku tunggu saat-saat kebahagiaan itu
menyapu kembali.

Aku rindu padanya dan akan selalu rindu

diambil dari kisah
orang yang kusyang :)

Jiwa orang yang dimabuk cinta
Akan merasa sakit karena rindu
Sebab pecinta ingin selalu bersama
Tapi halangan tiada henti-henti

Pecinta seperti dua ekor kijang di bukit tandus
Walau tiada makanan, tetapi mereka tetap bersama
Atau seperti burung merpati
Walau terbang bebas diangkasa luas
Tetap saja kembali pada kekasihya
Atau laksana ikan tuna
Tetap tabah walau dipermainkan ombak
Timbul – tenggelam di laut.

Walau selalu dicaci dan dicela
Batin menjerit tubuh binasa
Meski lapar dan disia-siakan
Namun jiwa pecinta akan selalu mema’afkan
Sebab pecinta tidak membutuhkan pujian
Dan pengorbanan cinta takkan sia-sia
Kulihat bintang kutub dan bintang kejora
Demikian pula cinta kita
Sekecil apapun, cinta tetap berkuasa di singgasana hati
Dan bagi cinta
Kebahagiaan dan kesedihan sama indahnya
Karena cinta sejati tidak mengenal kesia-siaan

Jiwaku dan jiwanya akan tetap bersama
Andai pun tidak di dunia
Pasti jiwa kami akan bersatu diliang lahat

Dan kelak akan dibangkitkan bersama
Hingga dapat bersatu selama-lamanya
Mataku berkorban untuknya dengan
Segenap curahan air mata
Berharap liang lahatmu adalah liang lahatku
Agar kita bersatu
Abadi tuk selamanya.....

Galery Karya Dwi Lestari

2008-11-19T00:57:00.000-08:00

19 Jan 2009

Di tengah pantai ku teringat akan memori itu..
Di saat kau bernyanyi di hari ultah ku..
Kau berikan hadiah spesial untuk ku.
Kau bernyanyi dan ucapkan..
Happy birthday to you..
Happy birthday to you..
Happy birthday..
My sweet honey
Happy birthday to you..
Aku ta’ kuasa menahan air kebahagiaan ini..
Ingin ku sampaikan kata terima kasih..
Karna kau tlah memberikan sesuatu kebahagiaan..
Yang sangat ta’ ternilai bagi ku..
Tapi kini kau tlah tiada..
Kau tlah t’bujur kaku di atas tempat tidur..
Yang b’lapiskan cahaya kesucian..
Ingin ku teriakan jangan pergi..
Dan jangan tinggalkan ku sendiri..
Tapi kenyataannya itu semua t’dapat di wujudkan..
Saat ku t’sadarkan oleh waktu..
Ku harus merelakanmu..
Walaupun memang sakit..
Tapi akan slalu ku coba tuk melepasmu..
Rasa cintaku ini..
Tulus hanya untukmu..
Akan slalu ku rawat dalam hati..
Meski ku berat tuk jalani..

Sesuatu yang indah adalah memilikimu..
Tapi apakah mungkin hal itu terjadi..
Aku ingin hatimu merasakan apa yang aku rasakan..
Di dalam gelapnya cinta..
Aku selalu mencari pintu cahaya hati..
Tapi sampai saat ini..
Aku tak mampu menemukannya
Apakah pintu cahayamu telah redup..
Ataukah telah dimiliki oleh seseorang..
Entahlah..
Tetapi meskipun memang benar itu yang terjadi..
Aku kan selalu mencari, mencari dan terus mencari..

=====================================================================================

Awan kerinduan menyelimuti hati..
Menangis akan rindunya kehadiranmu..
Walaupun hati mencoba tuk tegar..
Tapi air ini tetap saja terus mengalir..
Mengalir lembut di pipiku..
Terbayang akan wajah yang ku rindukan
Sesosok lelaki yang ku cintai
Ingin rasanya ku peluk erat..
Agar kau tak akan meninggalkanku..
Dulu, kita terikat oleh indahnya benang merah muda..
Sampai akhirnya kita putuskan bersama untuk berpisah..
Sungguh.. aku sangat menyesal dengan keputusan ini..
Karna setelah ku sadari ini adalah hal terbodoh
Yang pernah ku lakukan..
Kini ku menunggu dirimu..
Datang kembali ke hadapanku..
Dengan membawa cinta dan kasih sayang..
Yang tuk kau berikan untukku..

===========================================================================

Kasih putih yang ku berikan untukmu..
Adalah sebuah cinta yang tumbuh dalam hati..
Dingin yang menyelimuti kalbu
Membuat hati merundukanmu..
Keyakinan hati akan selalu mendampingi..
Takan pernah terhapus dalam memori hidup..
Walaupun nanti kau tak akan jadi milikku lagi..
Izinkanlah diriku hanya menjadi tempat
Menampung rasa yang ada di hatimu..
Meskipun rasa itu akan menyakiti hati ku..
Tapi aku pasti akan bahagia..
Asalkan melihatmu bahagia..
Meski bahagia dengan orang lain..

=========================================================================

Awan hitam menyelimuti hatiku
Yang kini sedang merindu
Merindu akan hadirnya dirimu
Tuk temani hariku..
Dalam selimut yang berlapiskan
Cahaya jingga..
Ku selalu berharap
Untuk dapat menggapai cintamu..
Cintamu yang seutuhnya..
Dalam sujud malamku..
Tak lepas ku panjatkan doa untukmu..
Agar harimu selalu di hiasi oleh pelangi..
Yang membuat lekuk bibirmu selalu abadi..
Andaikan dirimu adalah diriku
Mungkin aku merasa hidup ini sempurna..
Tak ada kesedihan, yang membuat hati kecewa..
Kegelapan dunia yang melekat
Akan menjadi saksi Betapa aku mencintaimu..
Cinta suci untuk hatimu..

============================================================================

Tuhan..
Aku sayang dia..
Apakah dia merasakan hal yang sama ?
Tapi hati kecilku mengatakan
Dia hanya sayang dengannya
Tuhan..
Aku ingin dia untukku..
Berikanlah dia untukku
Tempatkanlah dia di hari panjangku
Jadikanlah dia pelangi di hatiku..
Yang mewarnai kehidupanku..
Agar lembaran kehidupanku akan
Lebih berwarna..
Aku sayang dia..
Aku gak tau apa yang menyebabkannya..
Tapi aku benar-benar sayang dia tuhan..
Aku gak mau kehilangan dirinya
Entah apa yang terjadi..
Jika hal yang ku takutkan itu terjadi..

With love..
Dwi Lestari

======================================================================================

Rasa rindu yang t' t'tahankan...
Membuatku t'siksa dalam kegelapan...
Slalu ku coba tuk melupakan...
Tapi ku tak bisa...
Awan hitam menutupi hati...
Setiap waktu slalu saja t'bayangkan...
Betapa indahnya dirimu disampingku...
Slalu kau ucapkan kata manis untuk ku...
Yg membuat hati m'njadi hidup...
Andai ku dapat mengulang kembali...
Memori-memori indah saat b'samamu...
Akan slalu ku peluk erat dirimu...
Agar kau slalu ada menemaniku...
Dan t' akan pernah pergi dari ku...
Slalu ku b'doa...
Agar ku tidak menyaksikan kepergianmu...
Andai ku dapat meminta...
Ambillah nyawaku sebelum Tuhan mengambil
Nyawamu...

======================================================================================

Mungkin ini adalah terakhir kali bertemu...
Di saat kau t'tidur beku di atas cahaya jingga...
Kau tutupkan matamu dan meninggalkan senyuman di wajahmu...
Yang melukiskan betapa bahagianya kau kembali kepadanya...
Ku simpuhkan do'a untukmu...
Dan ku teteskan air mata ini...
Karna,aku tak ingin kau pergi jauh dari ku...
Di saat aku di sadarkan oleh waktu...
Akan ku ikhlaskan kepergianmu...
Mungkin memang inilah jalan hidupmu...
Walau memang pahit untuk Qu...
Qu b'harap akan kedamaian
Yang akan kau jalani di dunia sana...
Meskipun ku tahu...
Swatu saat ku pasti kan menjemputmu

====================================================================================

Dengan berjalannya waktu..
Q tunggu kedatanganmu sendiri..
Sehingga kekesalan dan amarah..
Sluruhnya t’kumpul dalam benakku..
Namun di saat ku melihatmu
Ku tercengang melihat keindahan senyuman itu..
Kau lontarkan kata maaf dgn tulus..
Sehingga hatiku lumpuh akan dirimu..
Kau bersenandung canda tawa..
Yang membuatku lupa akan amarah itu..
Slalu ku nikmati keceriaan saat bersamamu..
Yang membuat hati memijarkan cahaya kesucian cinta..

Created by : Uwie = ☺

Galery Karya Selviani

2008-11-19T00:53:00.000-08:00

WAJAH IBU

Sebuah tasbih yang menggantung berdampingan dengan mukena putih di bekas kamar ibuku sesekali bergerak perlahan karena terpaan angin kecil lewat jendela yang terbuka. Kerinduan begiru kuat berdetak-detak di jantungku. Perpisahan ini memang begitu berat, dan diluar kekuasaan siapa pun.
Tasbih dan mukena itu seperti saling berbisik, kemudian bersahut-sahutan membaca zikir, tahmid dan takbir. Terkadang hingga menjelang subuh masih ku dengar suaranya, seperti suara ibuku setiap kali aku membayangkan wajah ibu yang begitu bersih terbaring kaku untuk yang terakhir kalinya. Wajah ibu seperti tanpa dosa dan begitu ikhlas.
“ Jangan ada yang menangis “ Aku sudah begitu cape dan aku ingin istirahat dengan tenang, “ katanya saat berbaring dirumah sakit, menjelang malam kepergian nya.
Terkadang aku ingin menangis sendiri, karena tidak sempat memberikan ciuman terakhir pada ibu yang kini tinggal tubuh yang diam, seperti tangis bapak setiap menjelang subuh. Lelaki tua itu seperti makin tidak mengerti kenapa dia harus sendirian dan begitu cepat ditinggalkan seorang diri dalam kerentaan nya ia menjadi semakin limbung.
Sejak ibu pergi seratus hari yang lalu aku sering mendengar dia berzikir begitu panjang di tengah malam, mengenang ibu yang kini begitu jauh. Aku sendiri tidak dapat menahan kerinduan yang tak lagi memiliki tempat berlabuh kecuali pada malam-malamku yang selalu mengenang nya.
Sunyi lelaki tua itu, sesunyi rumah tua yang dinding-dindingnya mulai retak. Ke dua bola matanya yang ada dibalik garis-garis keningnya semakin redup. Sesekali ia menatap langit dengan kaki tanpa pijakan, seperti ingin terbang sendirian.
Tasbih dan mukena berwarna putih dengan renda bunga-bunga ditepinya itu adalah benda yang paling disukai ibu. Hampir separuh dari seluruh hidupnya selama enam puluh tahun habis untuk menimang-nimang butiran-butiran putih dan mukena berenda itu.
Hampir setiap malam ku dengar bisik-bisikan halus dan sebuah pembicaraan gaib antara ibuku dengan entah siapa. Sebab, hanya ibu yang mengerti makna pembicaraan itu.
Antara mukena itu dan tasbih nya hampir tidak dapat dipisahkan oleh ibu. Tiap berbaring pada siang hari jari-jarinya sentiasa menghitung butiran-butiran hijau muda itu, sambil sesekali mendesah, lalu menangis sendirian. Sementara mukena berenda itu sentiasa menutup rambutnya yang penuh uban. Dan dihadapan nya selalu tergelar sajadah berwarna hijau keemasan.
“ Kita hidup bukan untuk apa-apa, kecuali memberikan yang terbaik bagi orang lain dan kehidupan mu sendiri. Dan satu hal yang tidak boleh dilupakan, berdoalah selalu pada Allah, “ katanya, setiap kali aku berhadapan dengan nya.
Ibu tak bosan-bosan mengatakan hal yang sama pada ku, pada adik-adiku, pada kakakku. Hidup adalah sebuah kejujuran, sebuah kepasrahan dan kasih sayang. Hal tang terburuk dalam hidup ini, kata ibuku adalah ketidakjujuran.
“ Ketidakjujuran, kepada siapapun adalah sumber malapetaka. Terlebih lagi pada gusti Allah, “ ujar ibu berulang-ulang, kepada anaknya, yang datang padanya.
Mukena putih berenda masih tergantung ditempat semula, di sebuah kapstok tua, berdampingan dengan tasbih berwarna hijau muda. Dan, sajadah hijau keemasan itu masih terlipat rapih diatas meja kecil di sudut bekas kamar ibu ku, berdampingan dengan sebuah alkuran yang sampulnya tak lagi utuh karena setiap saat tersentuh jari-jari ibuku. Hanya benda-benda itulah yang masih tersisa.
Malam ini kerinduan ku kembali Menghentak-hentak, mencari pelabuhan. Pelabuhan ku kini tinggal sebuah bayangan yang penuh misteri. Tak ada lagi suara halus yang ku dengar dari kamar ibuku kecuali benda-benda yang semakin lama semakin membisu. Benda-benda yang tak lagi tersentuh jemari-jemari tua ibuku, benda-benda yang paling berharga bagi sebuah warisan, karena memang tak ada lagi benda lain yang patut diwariskan oleh ibuku.
Aku ingin memilikinya. Namun, ternyata benda-benda itu belum sepenuhnya bisa menjadi miliku. Karena apa yang pantas dimiliki ibu belum aku miliki. Pembicaraan gaib ibuku belum bisa aku miliki sepenuhnya, bisikan halus ibu belum bisa aku bisikan padanya. Sebab, aku merasa sebenarnya aku belum begitu mengerti apa sesungguhnya yang menjadi milik perempuan tua itu.
Setiap kali aku menyentuh butiran berwarna hijau muda itu tangan ku menjadi gemetar, mulutku terasa terkunci, seperti ada yang menutup nya rapat-rapat, sehingga aku sering menangis sendirian. Tidak patutkah aku memiliki apa yang pernah dimiliki oleh ibu ? Tidak patutkah aku memperoleh sesuatu yang paling berharga dari ibuku ?
Itulah pertanyaan-pertanyaan yang keluar dari bibirku ketika aku mulai menyentuh benda-benda itu tadi. Benda-benda yang sentiasa disentuh oleh tangan yang menimang-nimangku juga. Tangan yang selalu mengulurkan kasih sayang, tangan yang pertama kali mengelus rambutku ketika aku lahir.
Tasbih dan mukena itu tetap saling berbisik. Keduanya selalu menatap curiga setiap aku dekati. Seperti ada tabir pemisah yang tak mampu aku tembus. Sehingga, aku seperti terlempar kesudut yang begitu gelap, ke sudut yang terkadang begitu asing.
“ Berilah kesempatan pada hatimu untuk lebih banyak berpicara. Melihat jangan hanya dengan mata, lihatlah seluruh persoalan dengan hati, agar kamu lebih arif, “ tutur ibu menjelang hari terakhir perjumpaanku dengan nya.
Kata-kata searif itu ternyata tidak membuatku mengerti tentang kehidupan, tentang asal dan akhirnya, tentang kemana seharusnya aku berlabuh atau membuat sebuah pelabuhan kecil untuk sekedar berteduh, atau membuat sebuah jalan lurus untuk menuju kesuatu tempat.

====================================================================================

Kata-kata Selamat Bubu !!!

 Seindah bulan purnama...
Seterang bintang diangkasa...
Mata hatiku melihat dengan nyata
Seorang manusia dengan hati
Berbunga-bunga membaca SMS
Dihadapan nya sambil berkata “ alhamdulillah ”
Temen ku yang cantik kirim SMS lagi...
Cuma buat ngucapin “ Met bubu “...

 secerah harapan tersimpan
di gelapnya malam...
doa penuh kerinduan menghantar
badan ke alam impian dengan
mata yang himpit terpejam
ku ucapkan met malem...
have a nice dlims

 Orang istimewa bukan
Yang selalu ada didepan mata
Atau senantiasa disisinya....tapi dia yang
Setia dihati dan diingat dalam
Setiap bisikan doanya....Met bubu !

===============================================================================

 Doa Q

Ya.. Allah jagalah dia
Dengan cintamu... bahkan saat
Dia tidur... Qu mohon kirimkan
Malaikatmu untuk menjaganya dan
Jadikan mimipinya indah...Amin...
Good nite...

 Berhubung malam kian larut...
Waktunya tarik selimut...
Cuci kaki biar ga da semut...
Jangan denger lagu dangdut...
Takut nanti manggut-manggut...
Salam dari si Selvi imut
“ bismika allahuma ahya
Wabis mika amut “ ... amin

 Orang Indo bilang
“ Selamat tidur “
Orang inggris bilang
“ Good night “
Orang jepang bilang
“ Oyashuminasi”
Berhubung Q orang jawa
Cukup bilang...
“ Wez bengi turu “ !

==============================================================================

Baca ea !!!

Aku hanya orang biasa
Yang nggak mengerti makna cinta...
Andai aku mengadah kepada tuhan
Yang aku mau hanyalah kesempatan dari kamu
Orang yang qw chyank...
Kemajuan kamu...bukanlah karena
Memperbaiki apa yang telah kamu lakukan...
Tetapi mencapai apa yang kamu belum lakukan
Kehalusan dan kebaikan hati
Bukan bertanda kelemahan dan putus asa
Tetapi perlambangan dan keteguhan cintalah...
Kebahagiaan yang bergetar...

Terkadang Qtta....tak tau seberapa
Dapat Qtta ... bertahan menghadapi
Tiap-tiap cobaan-cobaan yang datang...
Terkadang Qtta merasa tak sanggup
Menghadapi cobaan-cobaan itu
Tapi yakinlah pada diri Qtta sendiri...
Bahwa apa yang diberikan cinta oleh Allah...
Merupakan apa yang menjadi batas
Kesanggupan Qtta...

=============================================================================

“ Kerinduan “

Sebuah hati untuk dia
Yang lebih besar dari alam semesta...
Meskipun sering ternoda
Tapi tak jemu ku harap cintanya
Atas seorang pecinta yang buta karena
Sering kali terlena didunia...
Dengan segala keindahan nya...
Bagaimana tidak dengan cinta
Sapaku untuk semesta
Sedang dia menapak disana...
Karna cinta aku ada...
Dengan cinta aku merasa
Sepenuh kerinduan... ku ingin
Berjumpa dengannya.

=====================================================================

Tebak-tebakan !!!

 Hewan apa yang suka menghina ?...
Sapi. Karena sapinter-pinternya
Loe masih pinteran gue...

 Apa persamaannya Paris Hilton, Britney Spears,
David Becham dan Justin Timberlake ?...
Sama-sama gak kenal loe...

 Kenapa Batman pake topeng ?...
Karena malu celana dalamnya kelihatan

 Kenapa Superman bisa terbang ?
Ya karena...kalo cuman bisa nyupir namanya
Supir man !

 Siapa artis Indonesia yang suka jajan ?
Tamara Beli Chiky

 Siapakah preiden RI yang paling seksi ?
Paha Bibi

 Apa bedanya Megi Z sama tukang sayur ?
Kalo Megi Z teriaknya “ teganya-teganya”
Kalo tukang sayur teriaknya “ togenya-togenya...Bu...”

 Benda apa yang kalo dipotong nambah
Panjang ?
Celana panjang (biar dipotong namanya tetep celana panjang)

 Masuk lurus, keluar bengkok apa hayo ?
Orang lagi ngupil...

 Nabi, nabi apa yang monyong ?
Na bibir lo !!!

 Lolly apa yang manis ?
Lollyatin aja gw...

 Lolly apa yang bikin muntah ?
Lollyatin aja tokai

 Benda apa yang item, kecil tapi kalo
Di sentil bisa bikin loe masuk penjara ?
Tai lalat Presiden

 Kenapa merek sepeda motor buatan
Jepang Yamaha ?
Krena kalo buatan Arab namanya jadi
Ya Mahmud.

Aneka Karya Amarullah

2008-11-14T16:37:00.000-08:00

SAHABAT

(Karya Amarullah)

Sahabat...

Adalah Dia....

Yang selalu menemani...

Ketika seluruh isi dunia menjauh...

Bukan ketika dia sedang butuh...

Sahabat adalah dia..

yang menerima keluhan...

Kesedihan...

Dan tangisan dari dirimu...

Sahabat adalah dia...

Menghapus lara di hati...

Membawa beban di bahu...

Memberi senyum harapan...

Hanya untuk dirimu seorang...

Sahabat adalah dia...

akan terkenang...

akan diharapkan...

akan membahagiakan....

dan akan terbayang...

Semua kasih sayangnya...

Walau hanya dalam sebuah....

IMPIAN....!!!!!!!

=====================================================

HIDUP ITU...?

karya Amarullah

Hiup itu amalan...

Amalan berbuat baik

Amalan berbuat jahat

Atau amalan berbuat maksiat?

Hidup itu kematian...

Kematian untuk rendah hati

atau kematian untuk menyombongkan diri?

Hidup itu pelecehan

Pelecehan bagi orang miskin

Pelecehan bagi orang bodoh

atau pelecehan bagi orang rendah?

Hidup itu jalan...

Jalan menuju surga

ataukah jalan menuju neraka?

Hidup itu jauh...

Jauh dari kesenangan

Jauh dari kebehagiaan

dan jauh dari senyuman!

Hidup itu kehinaan...

Kehinaan untuk diri saya

Kehinaan untuk tubuh saya

Kehinaan untuk prilaku saya

Atau kehinaan untuk Anda

==========================================================================

BELATI

Sahabat adalah sebuah belati
Menjadi senjata
Ketika kita di hadang musuh
Menjadi tameng terkuat di bumi
Menjadi benteng peperangan
Tak satupun dapat menembus
Tak satupun dapat mengalahkan
Walau dengan ribuan senapan.

Sebuah belati yang mampu merubah dunia
Dunia hidup diri kita
Menjadi hitam dengan belati
Atau menjadi putih dengan belati
Hingga ia hilang disapa maut.

Namun rindu tak dapat terobati
Karena sebuah belati
Selalu menancap di relung hati.

=====================================================================================

The Three Fishermen

There were three of them. There were four of us, and April lay on the campsite and on the river, a mixture of dawn at a damp extreme and the sun in the leaves at cajole. This was Deer Lodge on the Pine River in Ossipee, New Hampshire, though the lodge was naught but a foundation remnant in the earth. Brother Bentley's father, Oren, had found this place sometime after the First World War, a foreign affair that had seriously done him no good but he found solitude abounding here. Now we were here, post World War II, post Korean War, Vietnam War on the brink. So much learned, so much yet to learn.
Peace then was everywhere about us, in the riot of young leaves, in the spree of bird confusion and chatter, in the struggle of pre-dawn animals for the start of a new day, a Cooper Hawk that had smashed down through trees for a squealing rabbit, yap of a fox at a youngster, a skunk at rooting.
We had pitched camp in the near darkness, Ed LeBlanc, Brother Bentley, Walter Ruszkowski, myself. A dozen or more years we had been here, and seen no one. Now, into our campsite deep in the forest, so deep that at times we had to rebuild sections of narrow road (more a logger's path) flushed out by earlier rains, deep enough where we thought we'd again have no traffic, came a growling engine, an old solid body van, a Chevy, the kind I had driven for Frankie Pike and the Lobster Pound in Lynn delivering lobsters throughout the Merrimack Valley. It had pre-WW II high fenders, a faded black paint on a body you'd swear had been hammered out of corrugated steel, and an engine that made sounds too angry and too early for the start of day. Two elderly men, we supposed in their seventies, sat the front seat; felt hats at the slouch and decorated with an assortment of tied flies like a miniature bandoleer of ammunition on the band. They could have been conscripts for Emilano Zappata, so loaded their hats and their vests as they climbed out of the truck.
"Mornin', been yet?" one of them said as he pulled his boots up from the folds at his knees, the tops of them as wide as a big mouth bass coming up from the bottom for a frog sitting on a lily pad. His hands were large, the fingers long and I could picture them in a shop barn working a primal plane across the face of a maple board. Custom-made, old elegance, those hands said.
< 2 >
"Barely had coffee," Ed LeBlanc said, the most vocal of the four of us, quickest at friendship, at shaking hands. "We've got a whole pot almost. Have what you want." The pot was pointed out sitting on a hunk of grill across the stones of our fire, flames licking lightly at its sides. The pot appeared as if it had been at war, a number of dents scarred it, the handle had evidently been replaced, and if not adjusted against a small rock it would have fallen over for sure. Once, a half-hour on the road heading north, noting it missing, we'd gone back to get it. When we fished the Pine River, coffee was the glue, the morning glue, the late evening glue, even though we'd often unearth our beer from a natural cooler in early evening. Coffee, camp coffee, has a ritual. It is thick, it is dark, it is potboiled over a squaw-pine fire, it is strong, it is enough to wake the demon in you, stoke last evening's cheese and pepperoni. First man up makes the fire, second man the coffee; but into that pot has to go fresh eggshells to hold the grounds down, give coffee a taste of history, a sense of place. That means at least one egg be cracked open for its shells, usually in the shadows and glimmers of false dawn. I suspect that's where "scrambled eggs" originated, from some camp like ours, settlers rushing west, lumberjacks hungry, hoboes lobbying for breakfast. So, camp coffee has made its way into poems, gatherings, memories, a time and thing not letting go, not being manhandled, not being cast aside.
"You're early enough for eggs and bacon if you need a start." Eddie added, his invitation tossed kindly into the morning air, his smile a match for morning sun, a man of welcomes. "We have hot cakes, kulbassa, home fries, if you want." We have the food of kings if you really want to know. There were nights we sat at his kitchen table at 101 Main Street, Saugus, Massachusetts planning the trip, planning each meal, planning the campsite. Some menus were founded on a case of beer, a late night, a curse or two on the ride to work when day started.
"Been there a'ready," the other man said, his weaponry also noted by us, a little more orderly in its presentation, including an old Boy Scout sash across his chest, the galaxy of flies in supreme positioning. They were old Yankees, in the face and frame the pair of them undoubtedly brothers, staunch, written into early routines, probably had been up at three o'clock to get here at this hour. They were taller than we were, no fat on their frames, wide-shouldered, big-handed, barely coming out of their reserve, but fishermen. That fact alone would win any of us over. Obviously, they'd been around, a heft of time already accrued.
< 3 >
Then the pounding came, from inside the truck, as if a tire iron was beating at the sides of the vehicle. It was not a timid banging, not a minor signal. Bang! Bang! it came, and Bang! again. And the voice of authority from some place in space, some regal spot in the universe. "I'm not sitting here the livelong day whilst you boys gab away." A toothless meshing came in his words, like Walter Brennan at work in the jail in Rio Bravo or some such movie.
"Comin', pa," one of them said, the most orderly one, the one with the old scout sash riding him like a bandoleer.
They pulled open the back doors of the van, swung them wide, to show His Venerable Self, ageless, white-bearded, felt hat too loaded with an arsenal of flies, sitting on a white wicker rocker with a rope holding him to a piece of vertical angle iron, the crude kind that could have been on early subways or trolley cars. Across his lap he held three delicate fly rods, old as him, thin, bamboo in color, probably too slight for a lake's three-pounder. But on the Pine River, upstream or downstream, under alders choking some parts of the river's flow, at a significant pool where side streams merge and phantom trout hang out their eternal promise, most elegant, fingertip elegant.
"Oh, boy," Eddie said at an aside, "there's the boss man, and look at those tools." Admiration leaked from his voice.
Rods were taken from the caring hands, the rope untied, and His Venerable Self, white wicker rocker and all, was lifted from the truck and set by our campfire. I was willing to bet that my sister Pat, the dealer in antiques, would scoop up that rocker if given the slightest chance. The old one looked about the campsite, noted clothes drying from a previous day's rain, order of equipment and supplies aligned the way we always kept them, the canvas of our tent taut and true in its expanse, our fishing rods off the ground and placed atop the flyleaf so as not to tempt raccoons with smelly cork handles, no garbage in sight. He nodded.
We had passed muster.
"You the ones leave it cleaner than you find it ever' year. We knowed sunthin' 'bout you. Never disturbed you afore. But we share the good spots." He looked closely at Brother Bentley, nodded a kind of recognition. "Your daddy ever fish here, son?"
< 4 >
Brother must have passed through the years in a hurry, remembering his father bringing him here as a boy. "A ways back," Brother said in his clipped North Saugus fashion, outlander, specific, no waste in his words. Old Oren Bentley, it had been told us, had walked five miles through the unknown woods off Route 16 as a boy and had come across the campsite, the remnants of an old lodge, and a great curve in the Pine River so that a mile's walk in either direction gave you three miles of stream to fish, upstream or downstream. Paradise up north.
His Venerable Self nodded again, a man of signals, then said, "Knowed him way back some. Met him at the Iron Bridge. We passed a few times." Instantly we could see the story. A whole history of encounter was in his words; it marched right through us the way knowledge does, as well as legend. He pointed at the coffeepot. "The boys'll be off, but my days down there get cut up some. I'll sit a while and take some of thet." He said thet too pronounced, too dramatic, and it was a short time before I knew why.
The white wicker rocker went into a slow and deliberate motion, his head nodded again. He spoke to his sons. "You boys be back no more'n two-three hours so these fellers can do their things too, and keep the place tidied up."
The most orderly son said, "Sure, pa. Two-three hours." The two elderly sons left the campsite and walked down the path to the banks of the Pine River, their boots swishing at thigh line, the most elegant rods pointing the way through scattered limbs, experience on the move. Trout beware, we thought.
"We been carpenters f'ever," he said, the clip still in his words. "Those boys a mine been some good at it too." His head cocked, he seemed to listen for their departure, the leaves and branches quiet, the murmur of the stream a tinkling idyllic music rising up the banking. Old Venerable Himself moved the wicker rocker forward and back, a small timing taking place. He was hearing things we had not heard yet, the whole symphony all around us. Eddie looked at me and nodded his own nod. It said, "I'm paying attention and I know you are. This is our one encounter with a man who has fished for years the river we love, that we come to twice a year, in May with the mayflies, in June with the black flies." The gift and the scourge, we'd often remember, having been both scarred and sewn by it.
< 5 >
Brother was still at memory, we could tell. Silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. A bird talked to us from a high limb. A fox called to her young. We were on the Pine River once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in Paradise.
"Name's Roger Treadwell. Boys are Nathan and Truett." The introductions had been accounted for.
Old Venerable Roger Treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "You boys wouldn't have a couple spare beers, would ya?"
Now that's the way to start the day on the Pine River.

Sushma Joshi

The End Of The World

One day, everybody was talking about it. It had even been printed in the newspapers. A great and learned sadhu had prophesized a conflagration, a natural disaster of such proportions that more than half of the world's population would be killed. Dil was on his way to work at the construction when site he stopped briefly to listen to a man propounding the benefits of a herb against impotence. Then he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, long lines of goats converging onto the green. "What's going on?" he asked. And the people told him: "Everybody's buying meat so they can have one last good meal before they die."
Dil, following this precedent of preparing for the end of the world, went into the shop and bought a kilogram of goat meat. On his way back home, he stopped at Gopal Bhakta's shop, where all the men saw the blood-soaked newsprint packet he was carrying in his hand. "So what's the big event, Dai? Are you celebrating Dashain early this year?" they joked. So he told them how goats were being sold in record numbers, and how the butchers were going a roaring business down in Tudikhel. The men, seizing on this opportunity for celebration, all decided to buy some meat for their last meal.
Sanukancha, who owned a milk-shop down the lane, said that his entire extended family of a hundred and sixteen people were planning to stay home that day so that they could be together when the seven suns rose the next morning and burnt up the earth. Bikash, who had transformed from an awara loafer to a serious young teacher since he got a job at the Disney English School, said that so many children had come in asking to be excused that day that the schools had declared a de facto national holiday. Gopalbhakta said that his sister, who worked in the airport, had told him that the seats of Royal Nepal Airlines were all taken with people hoping to escape the day of destruction.
Dil, showed up that night at his house with a kilo of meat wrapped in sal leaves. He handed it to Kanchi without a word.
"Meat! We don't have a kernel of rice, not a drop of oil, not a pinch of turmeric in the house. And you come back with a kilo of meat! We could have eaten for a week with that money." Kanchi was exasperated.
< 2 >
"Shut up, whore, and eat". said Dil. "You might be dead tomorrow, so you might as well enjoy this meat while you have it."
"How am I going to cook it? With body heat?" demanded Kanchi. There was no kerosene in the house. Dil stretched out on the bed, his body still covered with the grey and red dust of cement and newly fired brick from his day of labor at the construction site. He stretched out and stared at the ceiling, as was his habit after work. When he did not reply, Kanchi asked: "And what is this great occasion?"
He contemplated the water stains on the wooden beams for a while, and then answered: "It's the end of the world."

So that's how she learnt that a great star with a long tail was going to crash against Jupiter, and shatter the earth into little fragments. It was true this time because even the TV had announced it. It was not just a rumor. There were also some reports, unverified by radio or television, that several - the numbers varied, some said it was seven, others thirty-two thousand - suns would rise after this event.
Kanchi was just about to go and get some rice from Gopal Bhakta, the shopkeeper who knew her well and let her buy food on credit, when her son arrived, carrying a polythene bag with oranges. "Oranges!" She swiped at the boy, who scrambled nimbly out of her reach. "You're crazy, you father and son. We have no rice in the house and you go and buy oranges. Don't you have any brains in your head!"
But the husband said nothing, and the son said nothing, and since it is useless to keep screaming at people who say nothing, Kanchi left, cursing their stupidity. "May the world really end, so I won't have to worry about having to feed idiots like you again."
So that night they had meat, alternately burnt and uncooked in parts where the children had roasted it, and perfectly done pieces which Kanchi had stuck through long sticks and cooked over hot coals. Kanchi, reflecting that the end of the world did not come too often, had gone over and picked some green chilies and coriander from the field next door to garnish the meat.
< 3 >
Afterwards they had the oranges, one for each of them. They were large, the peels coming off and scenting the room with the oil. Inside, they were ripe and juicy, with a taste that they never got in the scrawny sour oranges that grew back in the villages. After they had eaten, Dil said, as an afterthought, "Now make sure the children don't go out tomorrow, whatever you do."
Later, Kanchi forgot her annoyance as their next door neighbors came over, bringing their madal drum and their three guests who were visiting from the village. They sang the songs that were so familiar, and yet had begun to seem so strange nowadays: songs about planting rice and cutting grass in the forest, a life that to the children was as unknown and faraway as the stories that they heard from the priests during a reading of the holy scriptures of the Purans. Then her son got up and started dancing, and they were all cheering when the landlady popped her head around the door and demanded: "What's all this noise? What's going on here? It sounds like the end of the world!"

Kanchi dressed carefully for the eventful day. She had on her regular cotton sari, but wrapped over it was the fluffy, baby blue cashmere shawl that Jennifer had brought for her from America. Jennifer, who was long, lugubrious and eternally disgusted with Nepal, worked for some development office, where she made women take injections and told them to save money in banks. She was fond of telling Kanchi that Nepalis were incapable of understanding what was good for them. She would have been proud to see Kanchi putting the blue shawl to such good use on such a momentous day.
Kanchi worked for Jennifer when she was in town. She cooked her rice and vegetables with no spices, and cut the huge red peppers that Jennifer liked to eat raw while she stood in front of her television in shiny, tight clothes and did her odd dances. Janefonda, Janefonda, she would yell at Kanchi, hopping up and down like a demented, electric green cricket as she munched on the huge peppers. She was not very forthcoming with presents, but once every winter she gave Kanchi a piece of clothing.
"Why the shawl on this hot day?" inquired Mitthu. She was the old cook of the Sharmas', at whose house Kanchi went to wash the clothes every morning to supplement her uncertain income.
< 4 >
"Haven't you heard?" Kanchi said to her. "Everybody is talking about it. Today is the end of the world. A big sadhu prophesized it. I won't have my husband by me, or my son. At least I can have my shawl."
"What nonsense." retorted Mitthu. She was a religious woman, with a tendency to be skeptical of people and events that she had not heard of.
"Well, what if it happens?" Kanchi demanded, and Mitthu replied, just as firmly: "No, it won't."
"Let's eat rice now, Didi." Kanchi said anxiously, as the sky began to darken for a light rain. The end of the world was supposed to happen at eleven am, and Kanchi wanted to deal with the event on a full stomach. "We might be hungry later."
"Is this for your body or your soul?" Asked Mitthu as she ladled some rice onto a plate for Kanchi. She had an acerbic tongue.
"A soul will fly away like a small bird. It'll fly away when it becomes hungry and go and steal from some other people's homes. It's my stomach that will kill me."
"And is your shawl to keep you warm in heaven or hell?" Mitthu inquired as she dropped a pinch of spicy tomato acchar onto the rice.
"I won't need this shawl in heaven or hell. This is if I survive, and there is nobody else on this earth but me. At least I will have my shawl to keep me warm."
Mitthu, even though she would not acknowledge it, recognized this admirable foresight and common sense. "Humph" she said, turning away to steal a glance at the sun, which did look rather bright. She wondered if she should run in and get a shawl as well, just in case, then decided her pride was more important.
A rumble of thunder rolled across the clear blue sky, and Kanchi stood up in a panic. "What a darcheruwa I am, I have no guts." she scolded herself.
"Eat, Kanchi." said Mitthu, rattling the rice ladle over the pot, annoyed at her own fright.

"I saw Shanta Bajai storming off to go to office this morning. She said she would go to the office even if nobody else came, and she would die in her chair if she had to."
"So why is the world going to end?" asks Mitthu cautiously. She did not believe it was going to happen. At the same time, she was curious.
< 5 >
"It's all because of Girija." explained Kanchi. "It all started happening ever since he became the Prime Minister. Ever since he started going off to America, day after day. I heard he fainted and fell on the ground, and the king of America gave him money for medicine. So this destruction is happening since he returned. Maybe the American king gave him money, and he sold Nepal, maybe that's why. And now maybe the Communists will take over."
"You know, Kanchi, I almost became a Communist when I was in the village? It sounded good. We would all have to live together, and work together, and there would be no divisions between big or small. Then we could kill all the rich people and there would be peace."
"And what about eating?" asks Kanchi. "You would also have to eat together, out of the same plate, with everybody else. How would that suit you, you Bahuni? You who won't even eat your food if you suspect somebody has looked at it?" Mitthu, who was a fastidious Brahmin and refused to let people who she suspected of eating buffalo meat into her kitchen, realized she has overlooked this point.
"And then they make you work until you drop dead." said Kanchi. "Don't tell me I didn't think about it. I would rather prefer to live like this, where at least I can have my son by me at night. I heard the Communists take away your children and make you work in different places. And then they give you work that you cannot fulfill, and if you do not do it, they kill you - Dong! - with one bullet. What's the point of living then?"
"Well ..." Mitthu does not want to give up her sympathies so easily. Besides, her husband had died when she was nine. As a lifelong child widow she had no reason to worry about being separated from her children. "Well, we'll see it when it happens, won't we?"
"Like the end of the world." said Kanchi, checking out the sky. "I heard that they have taken the big Sadhu who predicted the end of the world and put him in the jail in Hanuman Dhoka. He has said that they can hang him if it doesn't happen. Then some people say that he was performing a Shanti Hom and the fire rose so high he was burnt and had to be taken to the hospital. Who can tell what will happen?"
< 6 >
Eleven am. There is a sudden shocked silence. The whole world stands still, for once, in anticipation. Then a sudden cacophony shatters the midmorning silence: cows moo tormentedly, dogs howl long and despondently, and people scream all over the tole.
The sky is flat gunmetal grey. The sun shines brightly.
A collective sign of relief wafts over the Valley of Kathmandu after the end of the world comes to an end.

Sue Ragland

The Hero

My mother's parents came from Hungary, but my grandfather was educated in Germany. Even though Hungarian was his native language, he preferred German to all the other languages he spoke. It seems he was able to hold a conversation in nine languages, but was most comfortable in German. Every morning, before going to his office, he read the German language newspaper, which was American owned and published in New York.
My grandfather was the only one in his family to come to the United States. He still had relatives living in Europe. When the first World War broke out, he lamented the fact that if my uncle, his only son had to go, it would be cousin fighting against cousin. In the early days of the war, my grandmother implored him to stop taking the German newspaper and to take an English language paper, instead. He scoffed at the idea, explaining that the fact that it was in German did not make it a German newspaper, but only an American newspaper, printed in German. But my grandmother insisted, if only that the neighbors not see him read it and think he was German. So, under duress, he finally gave up the German newspaper.
One day, the inevitable happened and my Uncle Milton received his draft notice. My Grandparents were very upset, but my mother, his little sister was ecstatic. Now she could brag about her soldier brother going off to war. She was ten years old and my uncle, realizing how he was regarded by his little sister and all of her friends, went out and bought them all service pins, which meant that they had a loved one in the service. All the little girls were delighted. When the day came for him to leave, his whole regiment, in their uniforms, left together from the same train station. There was a band playing and my mother and her friends came to see him off. Each one wore her service pin and waved a small American flag, cheering the boys, as they left.
The moment came and the soldiers, all rookies, none of whom had had any training, but who had nevertheless all been issued, uniforms, boarded the train. The band played and the crowd cheered. Although no one noticed, I'm sure my grandmother had a tear in her eye for the only son, going off to war. The train groaned as if it knew the destiny to which it was taking its passengers, but it soon it began to move. Still cheering and waving their flags, the band still playing, the train slowly departed the station.
< 2 >
It had gone about a thousand yards when it suddenly ground to a halt. The band stopped playing, the crowd stopped cheering. Everyone gazed in wonder as the train slowly backed up and returned to the station. It seemed an eternity until the doors opened and the men started to file out. Someone shouted, "It's the armistice. The war is over." For a moment, nobody moved, but then the people heard someone bark orders at the soldiers. The men lined up formed into two lines, walked down the steps and, with the band in tow, playing a Sousa march, paraded down the street, as returning heroes, to be welcomed home by the assembled throng. As soon as the parade ended they were, immediately, mustered out of the army. My mother said it was a great day, but she was just a little disappointed that it didn't last a tiny bit longer. The next day my uncle returned to his job, and my grandfather resumed reading the German newspaper, which he read until the day he died.

Romance

Sue Ragland

The Hero

My mother's parents came from Hungary, but my grandfather was educated in Germany. Even though Hungarian was his native language, he preferred German to all the other languages he spoke. It seems he was able to hold a conversation in nine languages, but was most comfortable in German. Every morning, before going to his office, he read the German language newspaper, which was American owned and published in New York.
My grandfather was the only one in his family to come to the United States. He still had relatives living in Europe. When the first World War broke out, he lamented the fact that if my uncle, his only son had to go, it would be cousin fighting against cousin. In the early days of the war, my grandmother implored him to stop taking the German newspaper and to take an English language paper, instead. He scoffed at the idea, explaining that the fact that it was in German did not make it a German newspaper, but only an American newspaper, printed in German. But my grandmother insisted, if only that the neighbors not see him read it and think he was German. So, under duress, he finally gave up the German newspaper.
One day, the inevitable happened and my Uncle Milton received his draft notice. My Grandparents were very upset, but my mother, his little sister was ecstatic. Now she could brag about her soldier brother going off to war. She was ten years old and my uncle, realizing how he was regarded by his little sister and all of her friends, went out and bought them all service pins, which meant that they had a loved one in the service. All the little girls were delighted. When the day came for him to leave, his whole regiment, in their uniforms, left together from the same train station. There was a band playing and my mother and her friends came to see him off. Each one wore her service pin and waved a small American flag, cheering the boys, as they left.
The moment came and the soldiers, all rookies, none of whom had had any training, but who had nevertheless all been issued, uniforms, boarded the train. The band played and the crowd cheered. Although no one noticed, I'm sure my grandmother had a tear in her eye for the only son, going off to war. The train groaned as if it knew the destiny to which it was taking its passengers, but it soon it began to move. Still cheering and waving their flags, the band still playing, the train slowly departed the station.
< 2 >
It had gone about a thousand yards when it suddenly ground to a halt. The band stopped playing, the crowd stopped cheering. Everyone gazed in wonder as the train slowly backed up and returned to the station. It seemed an eternity until the doors opened and the men started to file out. Someone shouted, "It's the armistice. The war is over." For a moment, nobody moved, but then the people heard someone bark orders at the soldiers. The men lined up formed into two lines, walked down the steps and, with the band in tow, playing a Sousa march, paraded down the street, as returning heroes, to be welcomed home by the assembled throng. As soon as the parade ended they were, immediately, mustered out of the army. My mother said it was a great day, but she was just a little disappointed that it didn't last a tiny bit longer. The next day my uncle returned to his job, and my grandfather resumed reading the German newspaper, which he read until the day he died.

Joseph Conrad

Amy Foster

Kennedy is a country doctor, and lives in Colebrook, on the shores of Eastbay. The high ground rising abruptly behind the red roofs of the little town crowds the quaint High Street against the wall which defends it from the sea. Beyond the sea-wall there curves for miles in a vast and regular sweep the barren beach of shingle, with the village of Brenzett standing out darkly across the water, a spire in a clump of trees; and still further out the perpendicular column of a lighthouse, looking in the distance no bigger than a lead pencil, marks the vanishing-point of the land. The country at the back of Brenzett is low and flat, but the bay is fairly well sheltered from the seas, and occasionally a big ship, windbound or through stress of weather, makes use of the anchoring ground a mile and a half due north from you as you stand at the back door of the "Ship Inn" in Brenzett. A dilapidated windmill near by lifting its shattered arms from a mound no loftier than a rubbish heap, and a Martello tower squatting at the water's edge half a mile to the south of the Coastguard cottages, are familiar to the skippers of small craft. These are the official seamarks for the patch of trustworthy bottom represented on the Admiralty charts by an irregular oval of dots enclosing several figures six, with a tiny anchor engraved among them, and the legend "mud and shells" over all.
The brow of the upland overtops the square tower of the Colebrook Church. The slope is green and looped by a white road. Ascending along this road, you open a valley broad and shallow, a wide green trough of pastures and hedges merging inland into a vista of purple tints and flowing lines closing the view.
In this valley down to Brenzett and Colebrook and up to Darnford, the market town fourteen miles away, lies the practice of my friend Kennedy. He had begun life as surgeon in the Navy, and afterwards had been the companion of a famous traveler, in the days when there were continents with unexplored interiors. His papers on the fauna and flora made him known to scientific societies. And now he had come to a country practice - from choice. The penetrating power of his mind, acting like a corrosive fluid, had destroyed his ambition, I fancy. His intelligence is of a scientific order, of an investigating habit, and of that unappeasable curiosity which believes that there is a particle of a general truth in every mystery.
< 2 >
A good many years ago now, on my return from abroad, he invited me to stay with him. I came readily enough, and as he could not neglect his patients to keep me company, he took me on his rounds - thirty miles or so of an afternoon, sometimes. I waited for him on the roads; the horse reached after the leafy twigs, and, sitting in the dogcart, I could hear Kennedy's laugh through the half-open door left open of some cottage. He had a big, hearty laugh that would have fitted a man twice his size, a brisk manner, a bronzed face, and a pair of gray, profoundly attentive eyes. He had the talent of making people talk to him freely, and an inexhaustible patience in listening to their tales.
One day, as we trotted out of a large village into a shady bit of road, I saw on our left hand a low, black cottage, with diamond panes in the windows, a creeper on the end wall, a roof of shingle, and some roses climbing on the rickety trellis-work of the tiny porch. Kennedy pulled up to a walk. A woman, in full sunlight, was throwing a dripping blanket over a line stretched between two old apple-trees. And as the bobtailed, long-necked chestnut, trying to get his head, jerked the left hand, covered by a thick dogskin glove, the doctor raised his voice over the hedge: "How's your child, Amy?"
I had the time to see her dull face, red, not with a mantling blush, but as if her flat cheeks had been vigorously slapped, and to take in the squat figure, the scanty, dusty brown hair drawn into a tight knot at the back of the head. She looked quite young. With a distinct catch in her breath, her voice sounded low and timid.
"He's well, thank you."
We trotted again. "A young patient of yours," I said; and the doctor, flicking the chestnut absently, muttered, "Her husband used to be."
"She seems a dull creature," I remarked listlessly.
"Precisely," said Kennedy. "She is very passive. It's enough to look at the red hands hanging at the end of those short arms, at those slow, prominent brown eyes, to know the inertness of her mind - an inertness that one would think made it everlastingly safe from all the surprises of imagination. And yet which of us is safe? At any rate, such as you see her, she had enough imagination to fall in love. She's the daughter of one Isaac Foster, who from a small farmer has sunk into a shepherd; the beginning of his misfortunes dating from his runaway marriage with the cook of his widowed father - a well-to-do, apoplectic grazier, who passionately struck his name off his will, and had been heard to utter threats against his life. But this old affair, scandalous enough to serve as a motive for a Greek tragedy, arose from the similarity of their characters. There are other tragedies, less scandalous and of a subtler poignancy, arising from irreconcilable differences and from that fear of the Incomprehensible that hangs over all our heads - over all our heads..."
< 3 >
The tired chestnut dropped into a walk; and the rim of the sun, all red in a speckless sky, touched familiarly the smooth top of a ploughed rise near the road as I had seen it times innumerable touch the distant horizon of the sea. The uniform brownness of the harrowed field glowed with a rosy tinge, as though the powdered clods had sweated out in minute pearls of blood the toil of uncounted ploughmen. From the edge of a copse a wagon with two horses was rolling gently along the ridge. Raised above our heads upon the sky-line, it loomed up against the red sun, triumphantly big, enormous, like a chariot of giants drawn by two slow-stepping steeds of legendary proportions. And the clumsy figure of the man plodding at the head of the leading horse projected itself on the background of the Infinite with a heroic uncouthness. The end of his carter's whip quivered high up in the blue. Kennedy discoursed.
"She's the eldest of a large family. At the age of fifteen they put her out to service at the New Barns Farm. I attended Mrs. Smith, the tenant's wife, and saw that girl there for the first time. Mrs. Smith, a genteel person with a sharp nose, made her put on a black dress every afternoon. I don't know what induced me to notice her at all. There are faces that call your attention by a curious want of definiteness in their whole aspect, as, walking in a mist, you peer attentively at a vague shape which, after all, may be nothing more curious or strange than a signpost. The only peculiarity I perceived in her was a slight hesitation in her utterance, a sort of preliminary stammer which passes away with the first word. When sharply spoken to, she was apt to lose her head at once; but her heart was of the kindest. She had never been heard to express a dislike for a single human being, and she was tender to every living creature. She was devoted to Mrs. Smith, to Mr. Smith, to their dogs, cats, canaries; and as to Mrs. Smith's gray parrot, its peculiarities exercised upon her a positive fascination. Nevertheless, when that outlandish bird, attacked by the cat, shrieked for help in human accents, she ran out into the yard stopping her ears, and did not prevent the crime. For Mrs. Smith this was another evidence of her stupidity; on the other hand, her want of charm, in view of Smith's well-known frivolousness, was a great recommendation. Her short-sighted eyes would swim with pity for a poor mouse in a trap, and she had been seen once by some boys on her knees in the wet grass helping a toad in difficulties. If it's true, as some German fellow has said, that without phosphorus there is no thought, it is still more true that there is no kindness of heart without a certain amount of imagination. She had some. She had even more than is necessary to understand suffering and to be moved by pity. She fell in love under circumstances that leave no room for doubt in the matter; for you need imagination to form a notion of beauty at all, and still more to discover your ideal in an unfamiliar shape.
< 4 >
"How this aptitude came to her, what it did feed upon, is an inscrutable mystery. She was born in the village, and had never been further away from it than Colebrook or perhaps Darnford. She lived for four years with the Smiths. New Barns is an isolated farmhouse a mile away from the road, and she was content to look day after day at the same fields, hollows, rises; at the trees and the hedgerows; at the faces of the four men about the farm, always the same - day after day, month after month, year after year. She never showed a desire for conversation, and, as it seemed to me, she did not know how to smile. Sometimes of a fine Sunday afternoon she would put on her best dress, a pair of stout boots, a large gray hat trimmed with a black feather (I've seen her in that finery), seize an absurdly slender parasol, climb over two stiles, tramp over three fields and along two hundred yards of road - never further. There stood Foster's cottage. She would help her mother to give their tea to the younger children, wash up the crockery, kiss the little ones, and go back to the farm. That was all. All the rest, all the change, all the relaxation. She never seemed to wish for anything more. And then she fell in love. She fell in love silently, obstinately - perhaps helplessly. It came slowly, but when it came it worked like a powerful spell; it was love as the Ancients understood it: an irresistible and fateful impulse - a possession! Yes, it was in her to become haunted and possessed by a face, by a presence, fatally, as though she had been a pagan worshipper of form under a joyous sky - and to be awakened at last from that mysterious forgetfulness of self, from that enchantment, from that transport, by a fear resembling the unaccountable terror of a brute..."
With the sun hanging low on its western limit, the expanse of the grass-lands framed in the counter-scarps of the rising ground took on a gorgeous and somber aspect. A sense of penetrating sadness, like that inspired by a grave strain of music, disengaged itself from the silence of the fields. The men we met walked past slow, unsmiling, with downcast eyes, as if the melancholy of an over-burdened earth had weighted their feet, bowed their shoulders, borne down their glances.
< 5 >
"Yes," said the doctor to my remark, "one would think the earth is under a curse, since of all her children these that cling to her the closest are uncouth in body and as leaden of gait as if their very hearts were loaded with chains. But here on this same road you might have seen amongst these heavy men a being lithe, supple, and long-limbed, straight like a pine with something striving upwards in his appearance as though the heart within him had been buoyant. Perhaps it was only the force of the contrast, but when he was passing one of these villagers here, the soles of his feet did not seem to me to touch the dust of the road. He vaulted over the stiles, paced these slopes with a long elastic stride that made him noticeable at a great distance, and had lustrous black eyes. He was so different from the mankind around that, with his freedom of movement, his soft - a little startled - glance, his olive complexion and graceful bearing, his humanity suggested to me the nature of a woodland creature. He came from there."
The doctor pointed with his whip, and from the summit of the descent seen over the rolling tops of the trees in a park by the side of the road, appeared the level sea far below us, like the floor of an immense edifice inlaid with bands of dark ripple, with still trails of glitter, ending in a belt of glassy water at the foot of the sky. The light blur of smoke, from an invisible steamer, faded on the great clearness of the horizon like the mist of a breath on a mirror; and, inshore, the white sails of a coaster, with the appearance of disentangling themselves slowly from under the branches, floated clear of the foliage of the trees.
"Shipwrecked in the bay?" I said.
"Yes; he was a castaway. A poor emigrant from Central Europe bound to America and washed ashore here in a storm. And for him, who knew nothing of the earth, England was an undiscovered country. It was some time before he learned its name; and for all I know he might have expected to find wild beasts or wild men here, when, crawling in the dark over the sea-wall, he rolled down the other side into a dyke, where it was another miracle he didn't get drowned. But he struggled instinctively like an animal under a net, and this blind struggle threw him out into a field. He must have been, indeed, of a tougher fiber than he looked to withstand without expiring such buffetings, the violence of his exertions, and so much fear. Later on, in his broken English that resembled curiously the speech of a young child, he told me himself that he put his trust in God, believing he was no longer in this world. And truly - he would add - how was he to know? He fought his way against the rain and the gale on all fours, and crawled at last among some sheep huddled close under the lee of a hedge. They ran off in all directions, bleating in the darkness, and he welcomed the first familiar sound he heard on these shores. It must have been two in the morning then. And this is all we know of the manner of his landing, though he did not arrive unattended by any means. Only his grisly company did not begin to come ashore till much later in the day..."
< 6 >
The doctor gathered the reins, clicked his tongue; we trotted down the hill. Then turning, almost directly, a sharp corner into the High Street, we rattled over the stones and were home.
Late in the evening Kennedy, breaking a spell of moodiness that had come over him, returned to the story. Smoking his pipe, he paced the long room from end to end. A reading-lamp concentrated all its light upon the papers on his desk; and, sitting by the open window, I saw, after the windless, scorching day, the frigid splendor of a hazy sea lying motionless under the moon. Not a whisper, not a splash, not a stir of the shingle, not a footstep, not a sigh came up from the earth below - never a sign of life but the scent of climbing jasmine; and Kennedy's voice, speaking behind me, passed through the wide casement, to vanish outside in a chill and sumptuous stillness.
"... The relations of shipwrecks in the olden time tell us of much suffering. Often the castaways were only saved from drowning to die miserably from starvation on a barren coast; others suffered violent death or else slavery, passing through years of precarious existence with people to whom their strangeness was an object of suspicion, dislike or fear. We read about these things, and they are very pitiful. It is indeed hard upon a man to find himself a lost stranger, helpless, incomprehensible, and of a mysterious origin, in some obscure corner of the earth. Yet amongst all the adventurers shipwrecked in all the wild parts of the world there is not one, it seems to me, that ever had to suffer a fate so simply tragic as the man I am speaking of, the most innocent of adventurers cast out by the sea in the bight of this bay, almost within sight from this very window.
"He did not know the name of his ship. Indeed, in the course of time we discovered he did not even know that ships had names - 'like Christian people'; and when, one day, from the top of the Talfourd Hill, he beheld the sea lying open to his view, his eyes roamed afar, lost in an air of wild surprise, as though he had never seen such a sight before. And probably he had not. As far as I could make out, he had been hustled together with many others on board an emigrant-ship lying at the mouth of the Elbe, too bewildered to take note of his surroundings, too weary to see anything, too anxious to care. They were driven below into the 'tweendeck and battened down from the very start. It was a low timber dwelling - he would say - with wooden beams overhead, like the houses in his country, but you went into it down a ladder. It was very large, very cold, damp and somber, with places in the manner of wooden boxes where people had to sleep, one above another, and it kept on rocking all ways at once all the time. He crept into one of these boxes and laid down there in the clothes in which he had left his home many days before, keeping his bundle and his stick by his side. People groaned, children cried, water dripped, the lights went out, the walls of the place creaked, and everything was being shaken so that in one's little box one dared not lift one's head. He had lost touch with his only companion (a young man from the same valley, he said), and all the time a great noise of wind went on outside and heavy blows fell - boom! boom! An awful sickness overcame him, even to the point of making him neglect his prayers. Besides, one could not tell whether it was morning or evening. It seemed always to be night in that place.
< 7 >
"Before that he had been travelling a long, long time on the iron track. He looked out of the window, which had a wonderfully clear glass in it, and the trees, the houses, the fields, and the long roads seemed to fly round and round about him till his head swam. He gave me to understand that he had on his passage beheld uncounted multitudes of people - whole nations - all dressed in such clothes as the rich wear. Once he was made to get out of the carriage, and slept through a night on a bench in a house of bricks with his bundle under his head; and once for many hours he had to sit on a floor of flat stones dozing, with his knees up and with his bundle between his feet. There was a roof over him, which seemed made of glass, and was so high that the tallest mountain-pine he had ever seen would have had room to grow under it. Steam-machines rolled in at one end and out at the other. People swarmed more than you can see on a feast-day round the miraculous Holy Image in the yard of the Carmelite Convent down in the plains where, before he left his home, he drove his mother in a wooden cart - a pious old woman who wanted to offer prayers and make a vow for his safety. He could not give me an idea of how large and lofty and full of noise and smoke and gloom, and clang of iron, the place was, but some one had told him it was called Berlin. Then they rang a bell, and another steam-machine came in, and again he was taken on and on through a land that wearied his eyes by its flatness without a single bit of a hill to be seen anywhere. One more night he spent shut up in a building like a good stable with a litter of straw on the floor, guarding his bundle amongst a lot of men, of whom not one could understand a single word he said. In the morning they were all led down to the stony shores of an extremely broad muddy river, flowing not between hills but between houses that seemed immense. There was a steammachine that went on the water, and they all stood upon it packed tight, only now there were with them many women and children who made much noise. A cold rain fell, the wind blew in his face; he was wet through, and his teeth chattered. He and the young man from the same valley took each other by the hand.
< 8 >
"They thought they were being taken to America straight away, but suddenly the steam-machine bumped against the side of a thing like a house on the water. The walls were smooth and black, and there uprose, growing from the roof as it were, bare trees in the shape of crosses, extremely high. That's how it appeared to him then, for he had never seen a ship before. This was the ship that was going to swim all the way to America. Voices shouted, everything swayed; there was a ladder dipping up and down. He went up on his hands and knees in mortal fear of falling into the water below, which made a great splashing. He got separated from his companion, and when he descended into the bottom of that ship his heart seemed to melt suddenly within him.
"It was then also, as he told me, that he lost contact for good and all with one of those three men who the summer before had been going about through all the little towns in the foothills of his country. They would arrive on market days driving in a peasant's cart, and would set up an office in an inn or some other Jew's house. There were three of them, of whom one with a long beard looked venerable; and they had red cloth collars round their necks and gold lace on their sleeves like Government officials. They sat proudly behind a long table; and in the next room, so that the common people shouldn't hear, they kept a cunning telegraph machine, through which they could talk to the Emperor of America. The fathers hung about the door, but the young men of the mountains would crowd up to the table asking many questions, for there was work to be got all the year round at three dollars a day in America, and no military service to do.
"But the American Kaiser would not take everybody. Oh, no! He himself had a great difficulty in getting accepted, and the venerable man in uniform had to go out of the room several times to work the telegraph on his behalf. The American Kaiser engaged him at last at three dollars, he being young and strong. However, many able young men backed out, afraid of the great distance; besides, those only who had some money could be taken. There were some who sold their huts and their land because it cost a lot of money to get to America; but then, once there, you had three dollars a day, and if you were clever you could find places where true gold could be picked up on the ground. His father's house was getting over full. Two of his brothers were married and had children. He promised to send money home from America by post twice a year. His father sold an old cow, a pair of piebald mountain ponies of his own raising, and a cleared plot of fair pasture land on the sunny slope of a pine-clad pass to a Jew inn-keeper in order to pay the people of the ship that took men to America to get rich in a short time.
< 9 >
"He must have been a real adventurer at heart, for how many of the greatest enterprises in the conquest of the earth had for their beginning just such a bargaining away of the paternal cow for the mirage or true gold far away! I have been telling you more or less in my own words what I learned fragmentarily in the course of two or three years, during which I seldom missed an opportunity of a friendly chat with him. He told me this story of his adventure with many flashes of white teeth and lively glances of black eyes, at first in a sort of anxious baby-talk, then, as he acquired the language, with great fluency, but always with that singing, soft, and at the same time vibrating intonation that instilled a strangely penetrating power into the sound of the most familiar English words, as if they had been the words of an unearthly language. And he always would come to an end, with many emphatic shakes of his head, upon that awful sensation of his heart melting within him directly he set foot on board that ship. Afterwards there seemed to come for him a period of blank ignorance, at any rate as to facts. No doubt he must have been abominably sea-sick and abominably unhappy - this soft and passionate adventurer, taken thus out of his knowledge, and feeling bitterly as he lay in his emigrant bunk his utter loneliness; for his was a highly sensitive nature. The next thing we know of him for certain is that he had been hiding in Hammond's pig-pound by the side of the road to Norton six miles, as the crow flies, from the sea. Of these experiences he was unwilling to speak: they seemed to have seared into his soul a somber sort of wonder and indignation. Through the rumors of the country-side, which lasted for a good many days after his arrival, we know that the fishermen of West Colebrook had been disturbed and startled by heavy knocks against the walls of weatherboard cottages, and by a voice crying piercingly strange words in the night. Several of them turned out even, but, no doubt, he had fled in sudden alarm at their rough angry tones hailing each other in the darkness. A sort of frenzy must have helped him up the steep Norton hill. It was he, no doubt, who early the following morning had been seen lying (in a swoon, I should say) on the roadside grass by the Brenzett carrier, who actually got down to have a nearer look, but drew back, intimidated by the perfect immobility, and by something queer in the aspect of that tramp, sleeping so still under the showers. As the day advanced, some children came dashing into school at Norton in such a fright that the schoolmistress went out and spoke indignantly to a 'horrid-looking man' on the road. He edged away, hanging his head, for a few steps, and then suddenly ran off with extraordinary fleetness. The driver of Mr. Bradley's milk-cart made no secret of it that he had lashed with his whip at a hairy sort of gypsy fellow who, jumping up at a turn of the road by the Vents, made a snatch at the pony's bridle. And he caught him a good one too, right over the face, he said, that made him drop down in the mud a jolly sight quicker than he had jumped up; but it was a good half-a-mile before he could stop the pony. Maybe that in his desperate endeavors to get help, and in his need to get in touch with some one, the poor devil had tried to stop the cart. Also three boys confessed afterwards to throwing stones at a funny tramp, knocking about all wet and muddy, and, it seemed, very drunk, in the narrow deep lane by the limekilns. All this was the talk of three villages for days; but we have Mrs. Finn's (the wife of Smith's wagoner) unimpeachable testimony that she saw him get over the low wall of Hammond's pig-pound and lurch straight at her, babbling aloud in a voice that was enough to make one die of fright. Having the baby with her in a perambulator, Mrs. Finn called out to him to go away, and as he persisted in coming nearer, she hit him courageously with her umbrella over the head and, without once looking back, ran like the wind with the perambulator as far as the first house in the village. She stopped then, out of breath, and spoke to old Lewis, hammering there at a heap of stones; and the old chap, taking off his immense black wire goggles, got up on his shaky legs to look where she pointed. Together they followed with their eyes the figure of the man running over a field; they saw him fall down, pick himself up, and run on again, staggering and waving his long arms above his head, in the direction of the New Barns Farm. From that moment he is plainly in the toils of his obscure and touching destiny. There is no doubt after this of what happened to him. All is certain now: Mrs. Smith's intense terror; Amy Foster's stolid conviction held against the other's nervous attack, that the man 'meant no harm'; Smith's exasperation (on his return from Darnford Market) at finding the dog barking himself into a fit, the back-door locked, his wife in hysterics; and all for an unfortunate dirty tramp, supposed to be even then lurking in his stackyard. Was he? He would teach him to frighten women.
< 10 >
"Smith is notoriously hot-tempered, but the sight of some nondescript and miry creature sitting cross-legged amongst a lot of loose straw, and swinging itself to and fro like a bear in a cage, made him pause. Then this tramp stood up silently before him, one mass of mud and filth from head to foot. Smith, alone amongst his stacks with this apparition, in the stormy twilight ringing with the infuriated barking of the dog, felt the dread of an inexplicable strangeness. But when that being, parting with his black hands the long matted locks that hung before his face, as you part the two halves of a curtain, looked out at him with glistening, wild, black-and-white eyes, the weirdness of this silent encounter fairly staggered him. He had admitted since (for the story has been a legitimate subject of conversation about here for years) that he made more than one step backwards. Then a sudden burst of rapid, senseless speech persuaded him at once that he had to do with an escaped lunatic. In fact, that impression never wore off completely. Smith has not in his heart given up his secret conviction of the man's essential insanity to this very day.
"As the creature approached him, jabbering in a most discomposing manner, Smith (unaware that he was being addressed as 'gracious lord,' and adjured in God's name to afford food and shelter) kept on speaking firmly but gently to it, and retreating all the time into the other yard. At last, watching his chance, by a sudden charge he bundled him headlong into the wood-lodge, and instantly shot the bolt. Thereupon he wiped his brow, though the day was cold. He had done his duty to the community by shutting up a wandering and probably dangerous maniac. Smith isn't a hard man at all, but he had room in his brain only for that one idea of lunacy. He was not imaginative enough to ask himself whether the man might not be perishing with cold and hunger. Meantime, at first, the maniac made a great deal of noise in the lodge. Mrs. Smith was screaming upstairs, where she had locked herself in her bedroom; but Amy Foster sobbed piteously at the kitchen door, wringing her hands and muttering, 'Don't! don't!' I daresay Smith had a rough time of it that evening with one noise and another, and this insane, disturbing voice crying obstinately through the door only added to his irritation. He couldn't possibly have connected this troublesome lunatic with the sinking of a ship in Eastbay, of which there had been a rumor in the Darnford market-place. And I daresay the man inside had been very near to insanity on that night. Before his excitement collapsed and he became unconscious he was throwing himself violently about in the dark, rolling on some dirty sacks, and biting his fists with rage, cold, hunger, amazement, and despair.
< 11 >
"He was a mountaineer of the eastern range of the Carpathians, and the vessel sunk the night before in Eastbay was the Hamburg emigrant-ship Herzogin Sophia-Dorothea, of appalling memory.
"A few months later we could read in the papers the accounts of the bogus 'Emigration Agencies' among the Sclavonian peasantry in the more remote provinces of Austria. The object of these scoundrels was to get hold of the poor ignorant people's homesteads, and they were in league with the local usurers. They exported their victims through Hamburg mostly. As to the ship, I had watched her out of this very window, reaching close - hauled under short canvas into the bay on a dark, threatening afternoon. She came to an anchor, correctly by the chart, off the Brenzett Coastguard station. I remember before the night fell looking out again at the outlines of her spars and rigging that stood out dark and pointed on a background of ragged, slaty clouds like another and a slighter spire to the left of the Brenzett church-tower. In the evening the wind rose. At midnight I could hear in my bed the terrific gusts and the sounds of a driving deluge.
"About that time the Coastguardmen thought they saw the lights of a steamer over the anchoring-ground. In a moment they vanished; but it is clear that another vessel of some sort had tried for shelter in the bay on that awful, blind night, had rammed the German ship amidships (a breach - as one of the divers told me afterwards - 'that you could sail a Thames barge through'), and then had gone out either scathless or damaged, who shall say; but had gone out, unknown, unseen, and fatal, to perish mysteriously at sea. Of her nothing ever came to light, and yet the hue and cry that was raised all over the world would have found her out if she had been in existence anywhere on the face of the waters.
"A completeness without a clue, and a stealthy silence as of a neatly executed crime, characterize this murderous disaster, which, as you may remember, had its gruesome celebrity. The wind would have prevented the loudest outcries from reaching the shore; there had been evidently no time for signals of distress. It was death without any sort of fuss. The Hamburg ship, filling all at once, capsized as she sank, and at daylight there was not even the end of a spar to be seen above water. She was missed, of course, and at first the Coastguardmen surmised that she had either dragged her anchor or parted her cable some time during the night, and had been blown out to sea. Then, after the tide turned, the wreck must have shifted a little and released some of the bodies, because a child - a little fair-haired child in a red frock - came ashore abreast of the Martello tower. By the afternoon you could see along three miles of beach dark figures with bare legs dashing in and out of the tumbling foam, and rough-looking men, women with hard faces, children, mostly fair-haired, were being carried, stiff and dripping, on stretchers, on wattles, on ladders, in a long procession past the door of the 'Ship Inn,' to be laid out in a row under the north wall of the Brenzett Church.
< 12 >
"Officially, the body of the little girl in the red frock is the first thing that came ashore from that ship. But I have patients amongst the seafaring population of West Colebrook, and, unofficially, I am informed that very early that morning two brothers, who went down to look after their cobble hauled up on the beach, found, a good way from Brenzett, an ordinary ship's hencoop lying high and dry on the shore, with eleven drowned ducks inside. Their families ate the birds, and the hencoop was split into firewood with a hatchet. It is possible that a man (supposing he happened to be on deck at the time of the accident) might have floated ashore on that hencoop. He might. I admit it is improbable, but there was the man - and for days, nay, for weeks - it didn't enter our heads that we had amongst us the only living soul that had escaped from that disaster. The man himself, even when he learned to speak intelligibly, could tell us very little. He remembered he had felt better (after the ship had anchored, I suppose), and that the darkness, the wind, and the rain took his breath away. This looks as if he had been on deck some time during that night. But we mustn't forget he had been taken out of his knowledge, that he had been sea-sick and battened down below for four days, that he had no general notion of a ship or of the sea, and therefore could have no definite idea of what was happening to him. The rain, the wind, the darkness he knew; he understood the bleating of the sheep, and he remembered the pain of his wretchedness and misery, his heartbroken astonishment that it was neither seen nor understood, his dismay at finding all the men angry and all the women fierce. He had approached them as a beggar, it is true, he said; but in his country, even if they gave nothing, they spoke gently to beggars. The children in his country were not taught to throw stones at those who asked for compassion. Smith's strategy overcame him completely. The wood-lodge presented the horrible aspect of a dungeon. What would be done to him next?... No wonder that Amy Foster appeared to his eyes with the aureole of an angel of light. The girl had not been able to sleep for thinking of the poor man, and in the morning, before the Smiths were up, she slipped out across the back yard. Holding the door of the wood-lodge ajar, she looked in and extended to him half a loaf of white bread - 'such bread as the rich eat in my country,' he used to say.
< 13 >
"At this he got up slowly from amongst all sorts of rubbish, stiff, hungry, trembling, miserable, and doubtful. 'Can you eat this?' she asked in her soft and timid voice. He must have taken her for a 'gracious lady.' He devoured ferociously, and tears were falling on the crust. Suddenly he dropped the bread, seized her wrist, and imprinted a kiss on her hand. She was not frightened. Through his forlorn condition she had observed that he was good-looking. She shut the door and walked back slowly to the kitchen. Much later on, she told Mrs. Smith, who shuddered at the bare idea of being touched by that creature.
"Through this act of impulsive pity he was brought back again within the pale of human relations with his new surroundings. He never forgot it - never.
"That very same morning old Mr. Swaffer (Smith's nearest neighbor) came over to give his advice, and ended by carrying him off. He stood, unsteady on his legs, meek, and caked over in half-dried mud, while the two men talked around him in an incomprehensible tongue. Mrs. Smith had refused to come downstairs till the madman was off the premises; Amy Foster, far from within the dark kitchen, watched through the open back door; and he obeyed the signs that were made to him to the best of his ability. But Smith was full of mistrust. 'Mind, sir! It may be all his cunning,' he cried repeatedly in a tone of warning. When Mr. Swaffer started the mare, the deplorable being sitting humbly by his side, through weakness, nearly fell out over the back of the high two-wheeled cart. Swaffer took him straight home. And it is then that I come upon the scene.
"I was called in by the simple process of the old man beckoning to me with his forefinger over the gate of his house as I happened to be driving past. I got down, of course.
"'I've got something here,' he mumbled, leading the way to an outhouse at a little distance from his other farm-buildings.
"It was there that I saw him first, in a long low room taken upon the space of that sort of coach-house. It was bare and whitewashed, with a small square aperture glazed with one cracked, dusty pane at its further end. He was lying on his back upon a straw pallet; they had given him a couple of horse-blankets, and he seemed to have spent the remainder of his strength in the exertion of cleaning himself. He was almost speechless; his quick breathing under the blankets pulled up to his chin, his glittering, restless black eyes reminded me of a wild bird caught in a snare. While I was examining him, old Swaffer stood silently by the door, passing the tips of his fingers along his shaven upper lip. I gave some directions, promised to send a bottle of medicine, and naturally made some inquiries.
< 14 >
"'Smith caught him in the stackyard at New Barns,' said the old chap in his deliberate, unmoved manner, and as if the other had been indeed a sort of wild animal. 'That's how I came by him. Quite a curiosity, isn't he? Now tell me, doctor - you've been all over the world - don't you think that's a bit of a Hindoo we've got hold of here.'
"I was greatly surprised. His long black hair scattered over the straw bolster contrasted with the olive pallor of his face. It occurred to me he might be a Basque. It didn't necessarily follow that he should understand Spanish; but I tried him with the few words I know, and also with some French. The whispered sounds I caught by bending my ear to his lips puzzled me utterly. That afternoon the young ladies from the Rectory (one of them read Goethe with a dictionary, and the other had struggled with Dante for years), coming to see Miss Swaffer, tried their German and Italian on him from the doorway. They retreated, just the least bit scared by the flood of passionate speech which, turning on his pallet, he let out at them. They admitted that the sound was pleasant, soft, musical - but, in conjunction with his looks perhaps, it was startling - so excitable, so utterly unlike anything one had ever heard. The village boys climbed up the bank to have a peep through the little square aperture. Everybody was wondering what Mr. Swaffer would do with him.
"He simply kept him.
"Swaffer would be called eccentric were he not so much respected. They will tell you that Mr. Swaffer sits up as late as ten o'clock at night to read books, and they will tell you also that he can write a check for two hundred pounds without thinking twice about it. He himself would tell you that the Swaffers had owned land between this and Darnford for these three hundred years. He must be eighty-five to-day, but he does not look a bit older than when I first came here. He is a great breeder of sheep, and deals extensively in cattle. He attends market days for miles around in every sort of weather, and drives sitting bowed low over the reins, his lank gray hair curling over the collar of his warm coat, and with a green plaid rug round his legs. The calmness of advanced age gives a solemnity to his manner. He is clean-shaved; his lips are thin and sensitive; something rigid and monarchal in the set of his features lends a certain elevation to the character of his face. He has been known to drive miles in the rain to see a new kind of rose in somebody's garden, or a monstrous cabbage grown by a cottager. He loves to hear tell of or to be shown something that he calls 'outlandish.' Perhaps it was just that outlandishness of the man which influenced old Swaffer. Perhaps it was only an inexplicable caprice. All I know is that at the end of three weeks I caught sight of Smith's lunatic digging in Swaffer's kitchen garden. They had found out he could use a spade. He dug barefooted.
< 15 >
"His black hair flowed over his shoulders. I suppose it was Swaffer who had given him the striped old cotton shirt; but he wore still the national brown cloth trousers (in which he had been washed ashore) fitting to the leg almost like tights; was belted with a broad leathern belt studded with little brass discs; and had never yet ventured into the village. The land he looked upon seemed to him kept neatly, like the grounds round a landowner's house; the size of the cart-horses struck him with astonishment; the roads resembled garden walks, and the aspect of the people, especially on Sundays, spoke of opulence. He wondered what made them so hardhearted and their children so bold. He got his food at the back door, carried it in both hands carefully to his outhouse, and, sitting alone on his pallet, would make the sign of the cross before he began. Beside the same pallet, kneeling in the early darkness of the short days, he recited aloud the Lord's Prayer before he slept. Whenever he saw old Swaffer he would bow with veneration from the waist, and stand erect while the old man, with his fingers over his upper lip, surveyed him silently. He bowed also to Miss Swaffer, who kept house frugally for her father - a broad-shouldered, big-boned woman of forty-five, with the pocket of her dress full of keys, and a gray, steady eye. She was Church - as people said (while her father was one of the trustees of the Baptist Chapel) - and wore a little steel cross at her waist. She dressed severely in black, in memory of one of the innumerable Bradleys of the neighborhood, to whom she had been engaged some twenty-five years ago - a young farmer who broke his neck out hunting on the eve of the wedding day. She had the unmoved countenance of the deaf, spoke very seldom, and her lips, thin like her father's, astonished one sometimes by a mysteriously ironic curl.
"These were the people to whom he owed allegiance, and an overwhelming loneliness seemed to fall from the leaden sky of that winter without sunshine. All the faces were sad. He could talk to no one, and had no hope of ever understanding anybody. It was as if these had been the faces of people from the other world-dead people - he used to tell me years afterwards. Upon my word, I wonder he did not go mad. He didn't know where he was. Somewhere very far from his mountains - somewhere over the water. Was this America, he wondered?
< 16 >
"If it hadn't been for the steel cross at Miss Swaffer's belt he would not, he confessed, have known whether he was in a Christian country at all. He used to cast stealthy glances at it, and feel comforted. There was nothing here the same as in his country! The earth and the water were different; there were no images of the Redeemer by the roadside. The very grass was different, and the trees. All the trees but the three old Norway pines on the bit of lawn before Swaffer's house, and these reminded him of his country. He had been detected once, after dusk, with his forehead against the trunk of one of them, sobbing, and talking to himself. They had been like brothers to him at that time, he affirmed. Everything else was strange. Conceive you the kind of an existence overshadowed, oppressed, by the everyday material appearances, as if by the visions of a nightmare. At night, when he could not sleep, he kept on thinking of the girl who gave him the first piece of bread he had eaten in this foreign land. She had been neither fierce nor angry, nor frightened. Her face he remembered as the only comprehensible face amongst all these faces that were as closed, as mysterious, and as mute as the faces of the dead who are possessed of a knowledge beyond the comprehension of the living. I wonder whether the memory of her compassion prevented him from cutting his throat. But there! I suppose I am an old sentimentalist, and forget the instinctive love of life which it takes all the strength of an uncommon despair to overcome.
"He did the work which was given him with an intelligence which surprised old Swaffer. By-and-by it was discovered that he could help at the ploughing, could milk the cows, feed the bullocks in the cattle-yard, and was of some use with the sheep. He began to pick up words, too, very fast; and suddenly, one fine morning in spring, he rescued from an untimely death a grand-child of old Swaffer.
"Swaffer's younger daughter is married to Willcox, a solicitor and the Town Clerk of Colebrook. Regularly twice a year they come to stay with the old man for a few days. Their only child, a little girl not three years old at the time, ran out of the house alone in her little white pinafore, and, toddling across the grass of a terraced garden, pitched herself over a low wall head first into the horsepond in the yard below.
< 17 >
"Our man was out with the wagoner and the plough in the field nearest to the house, and as he was leading the team round to begin a fresh furrow, he saw, through the gap of the gate, what for anybody else would have been a mere flutter of something white. But he had straight-glancing, quick, far-reaching eyes, that only seemed to flinch and lose their amazing power before the immensity of the sea. He was barefooted, and looking as outlandish as the heart of Swaffer could desire. Leaving the horses on the turn, to the inexpressible disgust of the wagoner he bounded off, going over the ploughed ground in long leaps, and suddenly appeared before the mother, thrust the child into her arms, and strode away.
"The pond was not very deep; but still, if he had not had such good eyes, the child would have perished - miserably suffocated in the foot or so of sticky mud at the bottom. Old Swaffer walked out slowly into the field, waited till the plough came over to his side, had a good look at him, and without saying a word went back to the house. But from that time they laid out his meals on the kitchen table; and at first, Miss Swaffer, all in black and with an inscrutable face, would come and stand in the doorway of the living-room to see him make a big sign of the cross before he fell to. I believe that from that day, too, Swaffer began to pay him regular wages.
"I can't follow step by step his development. He cut his hair short, was seen in the village and along the road going to and fro to his work like any other man. Children ceased to shout after him. He became aware of social differences, but remained for a long time surprised at the bare poverty of the churches among so much wealth. He couldn't understand either why they were kept shut up on week days. There was nothing to steal in them. Was it to keep people from praying too often? The rectory took much notice of him about that time, and I believe the young ladies attempted to prepare the ground for his conversion. They could not, however, break him of his habit of crossing himself, but he went so far as to take off the string with a couple of brass medals the size of a sixpence, a tiny metal cross, and a square sort of scapulary which he wore round his neck. He hung them on the wall by the side of his bed, and he was still to be heard every evening reciting the Lord's Prayer, in incomprehensible words and in a slow, fervent tone, as he had heard his old father do at the head of all the kneeling family, big and little, on every evening of his life. And though he wore corduroys at work, and a slop-made pepper-and-salt suit on Sundays, strangers would turn round to look after him on the road. His foreignness had a peculiar and indelible stamp. At last people became used to see him. But they never became used to him. His rapid, skimming walk; his swarthy complexion; his hat cocked on the left ear; his habit, on warm evenings, of wearing his coat over one shoulder, like a hussar's dolman; his manner of leaping over the stiles, not as a feat of agility, but in the ordinary course of progression - all these peculiarities were, as one may say, so many causes of scorn and offence to the inhabitants of the village. They wouldn't in their dinner hour lie flat on their backs on the grass to stare at the sky. Neither did they go about the fields screaming dismal tunes. Many times have I heard his high-pitched voice from behind the ridge of some sloping sheep-walk, a voice light and soaring, like a lark's, but with a melancholy human note, over our fields that hear only the song of birds. And I should be startled myself. Ah! He was different: innocent of heart, and full of good will, which nobody wanted, this castaway, that, like a man transplanted into another planet, was separated by an immense space from his past and by an immense ignorance from his future. His quick, fervent utterance positively shocked everybody. 'An excitable devil,' they called him. One evening, in the tap-room of the Coach and Horses (having drunk some whisky), he upset them all by singing a love song of his country. They hooted him down, and he was pained; but Preble, the lame wheelwright, and Vincent, the fat blacksmith, and the other notables too, wanted to drink their evening beer in peace. On another occasion he tried to show them how to dance. The dust rose in clouds from the sanded floor; he leaped straight up amongst the deal tables, struck his heels together, squatted on one heel in front of old Preble, shooting out the other leg, uttered wild and exulting cries, jumped up to whirl on one foot, snapping his fingers above his head - and a strange carter who was having a drink in there began to swear, and cleared out with his half-pint in his hand into the bar. But when suddenly he sprang upon a table and continued to dance among the glasses, the landlord interfered. He didn't want any 'acrobat tricks in the tap-room.' They laid their hands on him. Having had a glass or two, Mr. Swaffer's foreigner tried to expostulate: was ejected forcibly: got a black eye.
< 18 >
"I believe he felt the hostility of his human surroundings. But he was tough - tough in spirit, too, as well as in body. Only the memory of the sea frightened him, with that vague terror that is left by a bad dream. His home was far away; and he did not want now to go to America. I had often explained to him that there is no place on earth where true gold can be found lying ready and to be got for the trouble of the picking up. How then, he asked, could he ever return home with empty hands when there had been sold a cow, two ponies, and a bit of land to pay for his going? His eyes would fill with tears, and, averting them from the immense shimmer of the sea, he would throw himself face down on the grass. But sometimes, cocking his hat with a little conquering air, he would defy my wisdom. He had found his bit of true gold. That was Amy Foster's heart; which was 'a golden heart, and soft to people's misery,' he would say in the accents of overwhelming conviction.
"He was called Yanko. He had explained that this meant little John; but as he would also repeat very often that he was a mountaineer (some word sounding in the dialect of his country like Goorall) he got it for his surname. And this is the only trace of him that the succeeding ages may find in the marriage register of the parish. There it stands - Yanko Goorall - in the rector's handwriting. The crooked cross made by the castaway, a cross whose tracing no doubt seemed to him the most solemn part of the whole ceremony, is all that remains now to perpetuate the memory of his name.
"His courtship had lasted some time - ever since he got his precarious footing in the community. It began by his buying for Amy Foster a green satin ribbon in Darnford. This was what you did in his country. You bought a ribbon at a Jew's stall on a fair-day. I don't suppose the girl knew what to do with it, but he seemed to think that his honorable intentions could not be mistaken.
"It was only when he declared his purpose to get married that I fully understood how, for a hundred futile and inappreciable reasons, how - shall I say odious? - he was to all the countryside. Every old woman in the village was up in arms. Smith, coming upon him near the farm, promised to break his head for him if he found him about again. But he twisted his little black moustache with such a bellicose air and rolled such big, black fierce eyes at Smith that this promise came to nothing. Smith, however, told the girl that she must be mad to take up with a man who was surely wrong in his head. All the same, when she heard him in the gloaming whistle from beyond the orchard a couple of bars of a weird and mournful tune, she would drop whatever she had in her hand - she would leave Mrs. Smith in the middle of a sentence - and she would run out to his call. Mrs. Smith called her a shameless hussy. She answered nothing. She said nothing at all to anybody, and went on her way as if she had been deaf. She and I alone all in the land, I fancy, could see his very real beauty. He was very good-looking, and most graceful in his bearing, with that something wild as of a woodland creature in his aspect. Her mother moaned over her dismally whenever the girl came to see her on her day out. The father was surly, but pretended not to know; and Mrs. Finn once told her plainly that 'this man, my dear, will do you some harm some day yet.' And so it went on. They could be seen on the roads, she tramping stolidly in her finery - gray dress, black feather, stout boots, prominent white cotton gloves that caught your eye a hundred yards away; and he, his coat slung picturesquely over one shoulder, pacing by her side, gallant of bearing and casting tender glances upon the girl with the golden heart. I wonder whether he saw how plain she was. Perhaps among types so different from what he had ever seen, he had not the power to judge; or perhaps he was seduced by the divine quality of her pity.
< 19 >
"Yanko was in great trouble meantime. In his country you get an old man for an ambassador in marriage affairs. He did not know how to proceed. However, one day in the midst of sheep in a field (he was now Swaffer's under-shepherd with Foster) he took off his hat to the father and declared himself humbly. 'I daresay she's fool enough to marry you,' was all Foster said. 'And then,' he used to relate, 'he puts his hat on his head, looks black at me as if he wanted to cut my throat, whistles the dog, and off he goes, leaving me to do the work.' The Fosters, of course, didn't like to lose the wages the girl earned: Amy used to give all her money to her mother. But there was in Foster a very genuine aversion to that match. He contended that the fellow was very good with sheep, but was not fit for any girl to marry. For one thing, he used to go along the hedges muttering to himself like a dam' fool; and then, these foreigners behave very queerly to women sometimes. And perhaps he would want to carry her off somewhere - or run off himself. It was not safe. He preached it to his daughter that the fellow might ill-use her in some way. She made no answer. It was, they said in the village, as if the man had done something to her. People discussed the matter. It was quite an excitement, and the two went on 'walking out' together in the face of opposition. Then something unexpected happened.
"I don't know whether old Swaffer ever understood how much he was regarded in the light of a father by his foreign retainer. Anyway the relation was curiously feudal. So when Yanko asked formally for an interview - 'and the Miss too' (he called the severe, deaf Miss Swaffer simply Miss) - it was to obtain their permission to marry. Swaffer heard him unmoved, dismissed him by a nod, and then shouted the intelligence into Miss Swaffer's best ear. She showed no surprise, and only remarked grimly, in a veiled blank voice, 'He certainly won't get any other girl to marry him.'
"It is Miss Swaffer who has all the credit of the munificence: but in a very few days it came out that Mr. Swaffer had presented Yanko with a cottage (the cottage you've seen this morning) and something like an acre of ground - had made it over to him in absolute property. Willcox expedited the deed, and I remember him telling me he had a great pleasure in making it ready. It recited: 'In consideration of saving the life of my beloved grandchild, Bertha Willcox.'
< 20 >
"Of course, after that no power on earth could prevent them from getting married.
"Her infatuation endured. People saw her going out to meet him in the evening. She stared with unblinking, fascinated eyes up the road where he was expected to appear, walking freely, with a swing from the hip, and humming one of the lovetunes of his country. When the boy was born, he got elevated at the 'Coach and Horses,' essayed again a song and a dance, and was again ejected. People expressed their commiseration for a woman married to that Jack-in-the-box. He didn't care. There was a man now (he told me boastfully) to whom he could sing and talk in the language of his country, and show how to dance by-and-by.
"But I don't know. To me he appeared to have grown less springy of step, heavier in body, less keen of eye. Imagination, no doubt; but it seems to me now as if the net of fate had been drawn closer round him already.
"One day I met him on the footpath over the Talfourd Hill. He told me that 'women were funny.' I had heard already of domestic differences. People were saying that Amy Foster was beginning to find out what sort of man she had married. He looked upon the sea with indifferent, unseeing eyes. His wife had snatched the child out of his arms one day as he sat on the doorstep crooning to it a song such as the mothers sing to babies in his mountains. She seemed to think he was doing it some harm. Women are funny. And she had objected to him praying aloud in the evening. Why? He expected the boy to repeat the prayer aloud after him by-and-by, as he used to do after his old father when he was a child - in his own country. And I discovered he longed for their boy to grow up so that he could have a man to talk with in that language that to our ears sounded so disturbing, so passionate, and so bizarre. Why his wife should dislike the idea he couldn't tell. But that would pass, he said. And tilting his head knowingly, he tapped his breastbone to indicate that she had a good heart: not hard, not fierce, open to compassion, charitable to the poor!
< 21 >
"I walked away thoughtfully; I wondered whether his difference, his strangeness, were not penetrating with repulsion that dull nature they had begun by irresistibly attracting. I wondered..."
The Doctor came to the window and looked out at the frigid splendor of the sea, immense in the haze, as if enclosing all the earth with all the hearts lost among the passions of love and fear.
"Physiologically, now," he said, turning away abruptly, "it was possible. It was possible."
He remained silent. Then went on--
"At all events, the next time I saw him he was ill - lung trouble. He was tough, but I daresay he was not acclimatized as well as I had supposed. It was a bad winter; and, of course, these mountaineers do get fits of home sickness; and a state of depression would make him vulnerable. He was lying half dressed on a couch downstairs.
"A table covered with a dark oilcloth took up all the middle of the little room. There was a wicker cradle on the floor, a kettle spouting steam on the hob, and some child's linen lay drying on the fender. The room was warm, but the door opens right into the garden, as you noticed perhaps.
"He was very feverish, and kept on muttering to himself. She sat on a chair and looked at him fixedly across the table with her brown, blurred eyes. 'Why don't you have him upstairs?' I asked. With a start and a confused stammer she said, 'Oh! ah! I couldn't sit with him upstairs, Sir.'
"I gave her certain directions; and going outside, I said again that he ought to be in bed upstairs. She wrung her hands. 'I couldn't. I couldn't. He keeps on saying something - I don't know what.' With the memory of all the talk against the man that had been dinned into her ears, I looked at her narrowly. I looked into her short-sighted eyes, at her dumb eyes that once in her life had seen an enticing shape, but seemed, staring at me, to see nothing at all now. But I saw she was uneasy.
"'What's the matter with him?' she asked in a sort of vacant trepidation. 'He doesn't look very ill. I never did see anybody look like this before...'
"'Do you think,' I asked indignantly, 'he is shamming?'
< 22 >
"'I can't help it, sir,' she said stolidly. And suddenly she clapped her hands and looked right and left. 'And there's the baby. I am so frightened. He wanted me just now to give him the baby. I can't understand what he says to it.'
"'Can't you ask a neighbor to come in tonight?' I asked.
"'Please, sir, nobody seems to care to come,' she muttered, dully resigned all at once.
"I impressed upon her the necessity of the greatest care, and then had to go. There was a good deal of sickness that winter. 'Oh, I hope he won't talk!' she exclaimed softly just as I was going away.
"I don't know how it is I did not see - but I didn't. And yet, turning in my trap, I saw her lingering before the door, very still, and as if meditating a flight up the miry road.
"Towards the night his fever increased.
"He tossed, moaned, and now and then muttered a complaint. And she sat with the table between her and the couch, watching every movement and every sound, with the terror, the unreasonable terror, of that man she could not understand creeping over her. She had drawn the wicker cradle close to her feet. There was nothing in her now but the maternal instinct and that unaccountable fear.
"Suddenly coming to himself, parched, he demanded a drink of water. She did not move. She had not understood, though he may have thought he was speaking in English. He waited, looking at her, burning with fever, amazed at her silence and immobility, and then he shouted impatiently, 'Water! Give me water!'
"She jumped to her feet, snatched up the child, and stood still. He spoke to her, and his passionate remonstrances only increased her fear of that strange man. I believe he spoke to her for a long time, entreating, wondering, pleading, ordering, I suppose. She says she bore it as long as she could. And then a gust of rage came over him.
"He sat up and called out terribly one word - some word. Then he got up as though he hadn't been ill at all, she says. And as in fevered dismay, indignation, and wonder he tried to get to her round the table, she simply opened the door and ran out with the child in her arms. She heard him call twice after her down the road in a terrible voice - and fled... Ah! but you should have seen stirring behind the dull, blurred glance of these eyes the specter of the fear which had hunted her on that night three miles and a half to the door of Foster's cottage! I did the next day.
< 23 >
"And it was I who found him lying face down and his body in a puddle, just outside the little wicket-gate.
"I had been called out that night to an urgent case in the village, and on my way home at daybreak passed by the cottage. The door stood open. My man helped me to carry him in. We laid him on the couch. The lamp smoked, the fire was out, the chill of the stormy night oozed from the cheerless yellow paper on the wall. 'Amy!' I called aloud, and my voice seemed to lose itself in the emptiness of this tiny house as if I had cried in a desert. He opened his eyes. 'Gone!' he said distinctly. 'I had only asked for water - only for a little water...'
"He was muddy. I covered him up and stood waiting in silence, catching a painfully gasped word now and then. They were no longer in his own language. The fever had left him, taking with it the heat of life. And with his panting breast and lustrous eyes he reminded me again of a wild creature under the net; of a bird caught in a snare. She had left him. She had left him - sick - helpless - thirsty. The spear of the hunter had entered his very soul. 'Why?' he cried in the penetrating and indignant voice of a man calling to a responsible Maker. A gust of wind and a swish of rain answered.
"And as I turned away to shut the door he pronounced the word 'Merciful!' and expired.
"Eventually I certified heart-failure as the immediate cause of death. His heart must have indeed failed him, or else he might have stood this night of storm and exposure, too. I closed his eyes and drove away. Not very far from the cottage I met Foster walking sturdily between the dripping hedges with his collie at his heels.
"'Do you know where your daughter is?' I asked.
"'Don't I!' he cried. 'I am going to talk to him a bit. Frightening a poor woman like this.'
"'He won't frighten her any more,' I said. 'He is dead.'
"He struck with his stick at the mud.
"'And there's the child.'
"Then, after thinking deeply for a while--
"'I don't know that it isn't for the best.'
< 24 >
"That's what he said. And she says nothing at all now. Not a word of him. Never. Is his image as utterly gone from her mind as his lithe and striding figure, his caroling voice are gone from our fields? He is no longer before her eyes to excite her imagination into a passion of love or fear; and his memory seems to have vanished from her dull brain as a shadow passes away upon a white screen. She lives in the cottage and works for Miss Swaffer. She is Amy Foster for everybody, and the child is 'Amy Foster's boy.' She calls him Johnny - which means Little John.
"It is impossible to say whether this name recalls anything to her. Does she ever think of the past? I have seen her hanging over the boy's cot in a very passion of maternal tenderness. The little fellow was lying on his back, a little frightened at me, but very still, with his big black eyes, with his fluttered air of a bird in a snare. And looking at him I seemed to see again the other one - the father, cast out mysteriously by the sea to perish in the supreme disaster of loneliness and despair."

Galery Karya Hartati Soekarno

2008-11-11T19:44:00.000-08:00

I HATE YOU
(Hartati Soekarno)

Ku hanya dapat melihat ke depan
Tatapan kosong dan hampa membuktikan
Bahwa aku memang hanya sendiri
Aku patung...
Patung yang mempunyai perasaan sedih
Sedihku karena telah dicampakkan oleh sahabat
Mungkin iya...
Mungkin tidak...
Mereka memperdulikanku pada saat mereka perlu
Apa kau peduli sahabat akan perasaanku
yang telah kau sakiti ini
Kau hanya mempedulikan perasaanmu
Aku mungkin hanya sebagaian kecil dari hidupmu
Aku hanya setitik debu yang menempel di bajumu
Tapi...
Apakah aku masih punya perasaan
Kau sangat kejam padaku
Hanya satu kalimat yang ingin aku katakan
I HATE TOU
===================================================================

Dia yang bisa membuat kegembiraanku tidak lagi dibuat - buat

Dia juga yang membuat aku bisa merasakan kebahagiaan

yang sebenarnya untuk pertama kalinya

Dia yang juga membuat aku bisa belajar untuk menikmati hidup

Dia yang mengajarkan aku untuk merasakan

detik-detik hidupku dengan tawa dan senyum

Dia....

Dia yang membuat aku mau berusaha

Dia itu kau... SAHABATKU

===================================================================
Ya Allah....
Jika cintaku Engkau ciptakan untuk dia
Tabahkan hatinya
Teguhkan imannya
Sucikan cintanya
lembutkan rindunya

Ya Allah
Jika hatiku Engkau ciptakan untuk dia
Penuhi hatinya dengan kasih-Mu
Terangi langkahnya dengan cahaya-Mu
Bisikan kedamaian dalam kegalauan
Temani dia dalam kesepian

Ya Allah
Kutitipkan cintaku kepada-Mu untuknya
Resapkan rindu pada rindunya
Mekarkan cintaku bersama cintanya
satukan hidupku dan hidupnya dalam cinta-Mu
Sebab....
Sungguh!!!
Aku mencintanya karena-Mu

=================================================================================

SEBUAH LENSA CINTA

Cinta itu egois, cinta itu pengorbanan
Cinta juga indah, cinta pun menyedihkan
Cinta itu adalah satu, cinta adalah
Cinta itu tekstur abstrak yang menghadapi kaca
Cinta itu sama, cinta pun berlawanan adanya
Cinta melahirkan senyum, cinta juga memunculkan air mata
Cinta itu abadi, cinta itu hilang dalam sesaat
Cinta membuat kita bertemu, cinta juga membuatnya berpisah
Cinta membawaku kaya, sekaligus membuatku miskin
Cinta adalah warna, cinta adalah gelap
Cinta tetap merubah bentuknya
Cinta tetap merubah arahnya
Cinta mengubah arti dirinya bagi setiap sosok
Cinta akan selalu menyinari kita
Dalam indah dalam sengsara
Karna takkan pernah tiada

============================================================================

Cinta itu cantik
Cinta menemani setiap hembus nafasku
Cinta itu manis
Cinta membuang pahitnya hariku
Cinta itu lembutcinta melumerkan kerasnya diriku
Cinta itu terang
Cinta menemani setiap hitam, setiap kelam
Cinta itu tidak pernah cemburu
Cinta tidak pernah marah
Cinta tidak pernah egois untukku..

HARTATI SOEKARNO

Pantun Lucu-lucuan

2008-11-04T18:56:00.000-08:00

dulu delmansekarang dokar
dulu teman sekarang pacar
=====================
makan kue, minum sekoteng
gue emang ganteng
=====================
Makan Jengkol Perut Melilit
Doyan Miscall pulsa dikit..!!
=========================
jualan es depan sekolah
sms, laah……….!!!
===========================
Buah jeruk buah kedondong……
Mbah ikutan nongkrong dooong….
=======================
hati siapa tak bimbang
situ botak minta dikepang
==========================
Buah kedondong
Buah atep
Dulu bencong
sekarang tetepp …………..
==========================
Buah semangka
buah duren
Nggak nyangka gue keren
=========================
Buah semangka buah manggis
Nggak nyangka gue manis
=======================
Buah apel di air payau
Nggak level layauuuuuuu…..
==================
Pohon kelapa, Pohon durian,
Pohon Cemara, Pohon Palem
Pohonnya tinggi-tinggi Bo!
========================
Buah Nanas, Buah bengkoang
Buah jambu, Buah kedondong
Ngerujak dooooooooonggggggg…
==========================
Ada padi, Ada jagung
Ada singkong, Ada pepayaPanen ni yeeeeeeeeeeeee!
===============================
Disini bingung,
Disana linglung
mangnya enak, engga nyambung….
=================================
Buah semangka berdaun sirih
Buah ajaib kali yah?????????
============================
Jalan kaki ke pasar baruJauh boooooooooooo….
========================
Jambu merah di dinding
Jangan marah just kidding
==========================
Jauh di mata,dekat dihati
Jauh di hati,dekat dimata
Jauh-dekat tujuh ratus perak
============================
Nemu gesper, di pinggir jalan
Kalo laper, makan tu gesper
===========================
Men sana in corpore sanoGue maen kesana,Elo maen ke sono!=============================
Disana gunung, disini gunung,
Ditengah-tengah bunga melati
Saya bingung kamu pun bingung
Kenapa ada bunga melati ???!?
========================
Anak ayam turun ke bumi
Induk ayam naik kelangit
Anak ayam nyari kelangit
Induk ayam nyungsep ke bumi
==========================
Sayur asem sayur sop
laper nich
==========================
banyak-banyak menabung
kagak nyambung
=========================
dilangit ada toma
tsengit amat
==========================
buah kedong-dong buah tomat
Elu bodong amat
=========================
buah duren di pohon beringin
rese’ banget tuch duren….
=======================
ayam kurus bulunya banyak
rugi banget yang beli………
=============================
jaka sembung naik becak
lagi males jalan cak
=========================
beli duren ke irian jaya
emang disini dak ada ya
=============================
jalan2 ke kota barubeli lontong kuahnya basi
dasar tukang lontong kurang ajar…
=========================
ikan hiu makan badak, i love u mendadak…
ikan paus makan pecel, i miss u girl…

===========================
satu ditambah satu yaitu dua
dua ditambah dua yaitu dengan empat
baru belajar ngitung ni yee…
==========================
ada lele ada belut
ada kerang ada siput
mo pesan yang mana?
========================
kueh cucur enak rasanya
kueh serabi putih warnanya
hatiku hancur karena cinta
siapakah yg akan jadi pengobatnya
=========================
muter muter di pulau formosa
memang indah pemandangany
aku hargai kritik dan saranya
semoga bermanfaat bagi kita semua
=============================
buah jambu buah sirsak….
buah duku buah durian….
ya… buah2an dweh…..
=====================
Jalan kaki ke kalimantan…cepeeeee deeeeehhhh.
=======================
makan es perut melilit..
mau SMS juga, pulsa tinggal dikit
==========================
Pergi ke pasar, nyari obat gatal
Dasar, Gak modal!!
========================
buah mangga buah manggis
ternyata ada cewek maniez
===============================
buah manggis buah pepaya
cewek manis siapa yg punya
======================
dihutan banyak lebah madu..
rasanya manis,disuka pemburu..
kamu adalah cintaku
dan aku amat sayang padamu..
========================
kembang gula di perigi
untuk aku minum jamu
kemana pun kamu pergia
ku slalu rindu kamu
============================
meski hanya buah jambu
tapi ini bisa diramu
meskipun jarang ketemu
cintaku hanya untukmu
===========================
wahai seruling buluh perindu
suaranya memikatku
wahai gadis pujaankuaku
sangat cinta kamu
==============================
meski aku sudah kenyang
tetap harus minum jamu
perempuan yang ku sayang
bolehkah aku bertamu

2008-11-04T18:19:00.001-08:00

PROBABILITAS
Karya Budiana

Budi Kadarusman itulah nama yang tiba – tiba saja saya ingin keluarkan. Tapi sebelumnya saya mohon maaf apabila dengan nama ini ada di antara kalian yang merasa kurang enak hati, entah karena memang namanya sama dengan orang – orang yang kalian kenal, orang yang kalian cintai, atau mungkin itu adalah nama kalian sediri. Jujur saya katakan bahwa saya memunculkan nama ini karena saya suka saja dan sedikit ada kenangan. Nama ini telah hadir dalam kehidupan saya meskipun sudah banyak nama – nama yang lain. Tapi saya tahu mengapa saya justru menggunakan nama ini. Kalian tahu nama ini sebenarnya adalah nama guru saya waktu di SMA, beliau adalah guru bahasa Inggris. Sekali lagi saya minta maaf kalau nama ini membuat sebagian dari kalian – terlebih untuk guruku - tersinggung. Saya teramat memohon agar Saudara - saudara tidak mempermasalahkannya apalagi akan menjegal atau memberedelnya seperti yang terjadi dalam cerpen Langit Makin Mendung yang menimbulkan banyak polemik hingga akhirnya dicabut dari peredaran. Tapi kalau kalian menganggap bahwa saya tertarik dengan nama tersebut, karena memiliki kemiripan dengan nama saya itu mungkin betul, maklum saya juga manusia yang ingin dikenal numpang beken sedikit toh tidak apa – apa, apalagi inikan hanya dunia imajinatif apa pun bisa terjadi. Tentu akan terjadi sesuai dengan kehendak kita. Tapi ingat kita bukan Tuhan. Kita hanya manusia yang ingin mencoba untuk membentuk seluruh alam pikiran kita ke dalam bentuk yang nyata. Tentu tidak ada jalan lain selain kita harus membentuknya dalam sebuah karya yang penuh dengan imajinatif. Itu karena kita tidak punya uang, coba kalau kita punya, tentu kita buat yang lebih bagus misalnya film, film kartun, dan sebagainya tidak hanya menulis. Kamu tahu kenapa orang menulis? Kalau mereka katakan bahwa mereka menulis karena ingin menunagkan isi pikirannya, itu hanyalah omong kosong. Mereka itu orang – orang prustasi , coba kalian bayangkan mereka menulis itu karena mereka tidak tahu harus kemanakan isi pikirannya atau mungkin juga mereka prustasi karena sudah tidak memiliki teman lagi yang dapat diajak bicara akhirnya bicara sendiri dalam persembunyian kata – kata “menulis”.
Tapi kalian tahu kenapa saya menulis ini. Tentu ‘prustasi’ tapi prustasi saya beda. Saya hanya tidak ingin lelah. Lelah karena melihat dan memikirkan sesuatu yang tiada ujung usai tentang apa yang saya lihat, saya dengar, dan saya rasakan tapi saya tidak dapat mereaksikannya dalam bentuk seperti yang saya inginkan. Kalau sudah begitu pastinya pening, pusing – sakit – yang akan datang. Jujur saya tidak ingin sakit oleh pikiranku sendiri. Saya hanya selalu ingat bahwa hidup saya ini hanyalah untuk saya dan milik saya oleh karenanya apa yang saya lakukan tentunya untuk saya sendiri. Saya bukanlah orang lain tapi saya adalah saya, saya hanya ingin hidup menjadi diri saya sendiri dengan ciri dan karakter saya sendiri yang sesungguhnya.
Kalian tahu apa yang saya inginkan dalam hidup ini? Saya ingin membentuk dunia sesuai dengan pikiran saya. Kalian pasti akan menganggap saya sebagai orang edan. Tapi tidak apalah dibilang edan juga buktinya orang –orang jenius yang dikatakan hebat dan kita kagum – kagumi di zama sekarang dulunya adalah orang – orang edan di zamanya. Makanya jadi orang edan sekarang biar nanti dianggap orang pintar oleh anak cucu kita.
Selain edan mungkin kalian pun akan mengatakan bahwa saya ini musyrik (amit – amit saya tidak mau menjadi orang musyrik. Mahasuci Allah) karena saya ingin berbuat seperti Tuhan – Tuhan Mahakuasa, Mahaesa -. Saya hanya memiliki pikiran, harapan, cita – cita, dan keinginan tentu itu tidak salahkan? Saya hanya ingin menuangkan pikiran – pikiran ini dalam sebuah dunia / karya yang sesuai dengan bentuk pikiran saya, dari pada saya jadi edan betulan. Lah iya kan, orang kalau pikirannya tidak disalurkan akan pusing sendiri apalagi konsep – konsep di otaknya sudah sangat penuh tapi kita tidak tahu bagaimana menyalurkannya bisa – bisa pecah kepalanya atau jadi edan betulan. Memangnya kalian mau tanggung jawab kalau saya jadi edan betulan, mana mungkin paling – paling kalian hanya ngomong, “Aduh kasihan ya si itu jadi edan.” Tidak sudi saya. Jelas – jelas saya tidak sudi apalagi kalau saya disamakan dengan orang – orang gila yang lebih gila. Kalian tahu siapa? Para teroris yang prustasi itu. Mereka pada dasarnya memiliki keinginan yang besar sama dengan saya, tapi bedanya mereka tidak tahu jalan untuk menyalurkannya. Makanya mereka jadi edan. Iyakan edan masa membunuh orang – orang yang tak tahu apa – apa dianggap benar, ngeyel. Membunuh ya tetap membunuh tidak ada membunuh berarti menyelamatkan. Tapi ya sudahlah terserah saja mau setuju atau tidak. Saya sekali lagi katakan hidupku ini hanya untuk saya.
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Saya punya cerita lucu yang sama ngeyelnya. Tapi cerita ini lebih lucu dan gurih dari pada obrolan di atas. Kalian masih ingat Budi Kadarusman orang yang pertama saya sebut – sebut. Saya sapa beliau dengan embel – embel Bapak saja ya, maklum guru. Bapak Budi Kadarusman orangnya muda, enerjik, luwes, dan sedikit slengean (maaf). Beliau memiliki seorang istri. Istri beliau ini memiliki adik. Adik dari istri beliau ini memiliki pacar. Nah pacar adiknya istri Bapak Budi Kadarusman ini memiliki ponakan laki – laki. Ponakan laki – laki pacarnya adik dari istrinya Bapak Budi Kadarusman ini adalah teman saya. Kalau kalian bingung atau susah memahaminya kalian tidak usah membaca bagian tadi. Baru saya bercerita kepada orang goblok seperti kalian itu. Tapi kalau kalia bisa memahaminya berarti kalian pinter.
Dia bercerita kepada saya bahwa Ayah dari kakeknya telah meninggal. Beliau meninggal sangat tidak wajar, tahu kenapa? Tidak apa – apa hanya penyakit jantung, tapi yang mengherankan beliau meninggal tidak terjatuh atau kaget. Beliau meninggal sama sekali tidak dikagetkan dan lagi tidak terjatuh tetapi dengan posisi duduk. Beliau meninggal karena salah minum obat dan jantungnya tidak kuat. Lengannya yang membuat orang heran. Lengannya hilang ketika mayatnya telah dikubur selama dua hari. Hal itu baru diketahui setelah warga sekitar melihat seperti ada bekas bongkaran pada kuburanya. Tentu saja warga pun curiga dan melaporkannya ke pihak keluarga. Keluarga yang dibantu warga sekitar memastikan bahwa mayat di dalam baik – baik saja. Mereka pun membongkarnya kembali dan benar saja mayat tersebut sudah tidak lagi berlengan – hilang -. Entah apa masksudnya sehingga ada orang yang tega mencuri lengan mayat yang sudah tidak berdaya. Tapi kemungkinan besar pencurinya menginginkan cincin yang melingkar di jemari mayat. Maklum yang meninggal adalah pemeluk agama Nasrani sehingga pakaian dan perhiasan dipakaikan di tubuh mayat. Menurut kabar mayat tersebut dijemarinya menggunakan tiga buah cincin emas yang lumayan mahal kalau dijual. Telusur punya telusur ternyata yang melakukan itu adalah keponakannya sendiri. Hal itu diketahui setelah mereka menemukan sepotong kertas yang telah ditulis. Tulisan itu adalah ucapan maaf dan sedikit keluhan si pencuri.
Saya terasa iba dan sedikit tegang ketika medengar cerita itu, tapi setelah teman saya tertawa sambil menepuk – tepuk perut sambil berkata, “ Lucu ... lucu kalau kamu membacanya.”
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Kini giliran saya yang tertawa geli begitu menggelikan. Sangat – sangat goblok, tolol, bego. Saya baru tahu ada orang yang tololnya melebihi teman saya yang bercerita tadi. Kalian tahu mengapa? Karena kalian telah membaca cerita tolol ini.

2008-11-04T18:19:00.000-08:00

Cerita Pendek

2008-11-04T18:11:00.000-08:00

ANTARA MASALAH DAN KEMISKINAN
Karya Budiana

“ Pertanyaan Ibu mengingatkan saya pada masa kecil. Ketika kecil, mungkin Ibu juga pernah merasakannya. Saya mengalami masa – masa bermain. Ketika bermain saya sering kali lupa waktu, tidak ada waktu yang tenang tanpa bermain. Namun, suatu ketika Ibu saya meminta tolong kepada saya untuk membelikan sesuatu. Saya pun bingung di saat itu antara kenikmatan saya dalam bermain dan suatu tuntunan hati untuk patuh kepada orang tua. Kenikmatan bermain itu membentuk imajinasi dan kreativitas diri yang saya butuhkan untuk ukuran saya pada masanya. Membantu orang tua merupakam kewajiban yang harus setiap anak lakukan kepada orang tuanya. Akhirnya dengan segala keterpaksaan saya, saya pun memenuhi permintaan orang tua untuk membelikan sesuatu.
Lelaki setengah baya dengan berbaju dinas duduk dengan tenang dengan tatapan mata kosong menembus waktu terfokus di suatu titik. Cukup lama ia terdiam sampai bibirnya sedikit mongering. Sementara seorang ibu yang juga separuh baya dengan ditutupi baju dinas yang teramat rapi dengan mengenakan tanda jabatan yang cukup membuatnya berwibawa. Riasan wajah yang di poles make up yang dibingkai dengan tatanan jilbab yang membuatnya terlihat cantik dan penuh obsesi serta feminim tentunya. Keduanya terhalang oleh meja kayu dengan ukuran dan ukiran yang sangat luar biasa bagusnya, tentu harganya juga. Lelaki setengah baya itupun sedikit demi sedikit menatap wajah perempuan setengah baya itu. Perempuan itu pun berusaha tetap tenang untuk menjaga segala wibawa jabatannya. “ Sama dengan pertanyaan yang Ibu sampaikan kepada Saya. Saya dihadakan pada kondisi yang membingungkan antara mengkreasikan gaya kepemimpinan saya selaku kepala desa dan patuh serta megakui terhadap apa – apa yang Ibu sangkakan terhadap desa yang saya pimpin karena Ibu adalah seorang bupati. Saya selalu ingin mewujudkan seluruh impian saya tentang desa yang saya pimpin, sekaligus desa kelahiran saya. Saya selalu bermimpi bahwa desa saya tidak lagi mejadi desa yang tertinggal. Masyarakat di sana haruslah memilik pedidikan yang tinggi, seluruh kekayaan alam tergali dengan baik untuk dimanfaatkan demi peningkatan kesejahteraan masyarakat. Kesadaran masyarakat akan kesehatan semakin meningkat, adat istiadat, budaya tolong – menolong, toleransi selayaknya orang timur tertanam dengan baik. Budaya daerah pun terjalin dan mampu ditampilkan, sehingga tidak ada lagi warga desa saya yang terjangkit penyakit yang namanya miskin. Dan kini harapan dan impian itu mulai terwujud. Saya pun mulai mewujudkan segala imajinasi dan mimpi – mimpi itu ketika saya mengemban jabatan sebagai kepala desa sekarang ini. Segi pendidikan, sumber daya alam, semuanya saya perhatikan dengan sangat teliti hingga akirnya tidak ada lagi warga saya yang miskin. Apalagi saya anggap desa saya adalah desa unggulan. Coba Ibu lihat bila dibandingkan dengan desa tetangga saya, sangat jauh berbeda. Mana ada di desa tetangga yang warganya pernah menjabat sebagai anggota dewan atau pun terlibat di dalam pemerintahan kabupaten, tapi di desa yang saya pimpin pernah ada warga saya yang pernah menjadi anggota dewan bahkan Ibu tahu sendiri dari desa saya pernah menduduki jabatan sebagai seorang yang berpengaruh di lingkungan pemerintahan daerah. Itukan menunjukkan tingkat pendidikan yang cukup tinggi.” Lelaki itu diam sejenak, “ Tapi Ibu adalah pimpinan saya terkadang saya kurang dapat membantah karena ketakutan saya kalau – kalau ini akan mengganggu program kerja yang pemerintah daerah tetapkan. Saya tahu menjadi pimpinan di masa sekarang benar – benar sulit kalau kita berbuat benar saja terkadang disalahkan apalagi kita berbuat salah. Menjadi pemimpinan itu selalu berkeinginan program kerja yang telah direncanakan agar berjalan dengan baik sesuai dengan yang kita targetkan.” Lelaki itu tertuduk lalu menghela napas panjang. “Namun dalam hal ini Ibu ingin seluruh yang saya cita – citakan dan seluruh imajinasi, impian serta bermain saya ini dianggap sebagai sesuatu yang sia – sia, tiada arti, yang Ibu istilahkan dengan kemiskinan. Saya membantah keras kalau desa saya dikatakan desa miskin.
Seperti biasa dengan nada tenangnya perempuan itu tidak begitu saja menyerah, “Tapi dari laporan staf – staf dan di lapangan saya medapati desa yang Bapak pimpin adalah desa tertinggal – desa miskin – barangkali bukan hanya staf saya yang berbicara hal demikian tapi camat Bapak sendiri yang mengatakan hal tersebut. Malah saya sudah memangil camat, namun katanya Bapak sangat bersikeras untuk tidak mengakui itu, akhirnya ya …saya sendiri memanggil Bapak, untuk mendengarkan sendiri penjelasan yang sebenarnya.”
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Lelaki separuh baya itupun pulang meninggalkan Pendopo. Diambilnya sepeda motor dinasnya dan mulailah ia berjalan pulang. Sepanjang pulang ia terus berpikir dengan dada sedikit kesal. Ia menggerutu, “ Enak saja desa saya desa tertinggal – miskin - saya sudah capek banting tulang mewujudkan desa unggulan dengan sepenuh hati, penuh rasa cinta, kasih sayang, seluruh waktu dan urusanku yang tidak begitu penting selalu saya nomor duakan bila sudah berurusan dengan masalah desa, bahkan waktu unuk keluarga sendiri sering saya tinggalkan bila sudah berkaitan dengan pembangun desa.” Sekilas ia pun membayangkan betapa malunya ia kalau di rapat antar kepaa desa atau pun kepala – kepala pemerintahan daerah di kabupaten, lalu desa saya di masukkan ke dalam desa miskin, betapa malunya ketika dibacakan dan salah satu dari yang dibacakan itu tertulis nama desa saya sebagai desa miskin. Miskin… miskin…kin…kin. Seluruh mata yang hadir itu akan melihat kearahku, walau mereka mungkin biasa, lirikan dan tatapannya pun biasa tapi hati mereka tertawa menyela dan mencibir. ‘Oh ini pimpinan warga miskin’.”
Tak terasa akhirnya sampai pula lelaki itu di desa yang ia puja – puja, setiap bertemu dengan warganya yang berada di pinggir jalan para warga pun menyapanya seolah menaruh rasa hormat kepada lelaki itu, lalu ia pun membalasnya tanpa rasa segan seolah telah akrab. Tiba – tiba motor kepala desa itu mengerem mendadak karena ada seekor anak ayam lari menyebrang jalan, hampir tertabrak. Para warga yang melihat kejadian itu pun berteriak cemas dan setelah itu tertumpah senyum lega. Para warga lain yang mendengar teriakan itu pun keluar ingin mencari tahu ada apa sebenarnya. Kepala desa itupun tetap senyum dan menyapa dengan terus melaju sepeda motornya.
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Mungkin tidak terlalu banyak orang yang suka dengan rapat, buktinya di DPRD yang berisi orang – orang perwakilan rakyat yang bertugas hanya untuk rapat untuk merumuskan peraturan – peraturan, memberi masukan kepada pemerintah, dll. Yang semuannya serba rapat. Padahal rapat itu enak, kita hanya tinggal duduk, mendengarkan, mendapat makanan atau snack atau mungkin pula sedikit ‘amplop’. Ya namanya juga perwakilan orang yang mewakili. Tapi anehnya banyak orang yang tidak suka kalau rapat, apa karena rapat itu mejenuhkan hanya mendengarkan, berbicara, duduk dalam ruangan begitu – begitu saja, berpikir, menulis, adu argumen atau debat kusir mungkin. Apa lagi kalau pada saat memberikan pedapat, pendapatnya dibantah atau tidak dianggap mungkin hati terasa nyelekit, rapat pun menjadi sangat – sangat menyiksa. Tapi, ya … saya tidak punya urusan dengan itu. Urusan saya hanya mengatakan bahwa Bupati tengah mengadakan rapat di Pendopo Kabupaten. Rapat itu dihadiri para pejabat tinggi pemerintahan daerah, para camat, para kepala desa. Maklum era repormasi harus keterbukaan, para wartawan pun saling mengintip dan menguping mengambil bagian dalam rapat untuk berita tapi lebih tepatnya untuk pekerjaannya ‘duit’. Para wartawan itu pun memberitakan dengan cepat kepada masyarakat hasil dari rapat itu. Tertulis dalam tinta hitam tebal di beberapa surat kabar “Pemda Kabupaten Bantu Desa Tertinggal” ada juga yang menulisnya dengan judul “Kepala Desa Berlomba Menjual Desanya ” ada juga salah satu surat kabar menulis “ Bupati, “ Masing – masing Desa Tertinggal Diminta untuk Mengajukan.”
* * * * *
Sudah satu bulan lebih rapat itu berlalu. Di meja kerja Bupati tengah berlangsung percakapan antara Bupati dengan stafnya. Staf tersebut tengah melaporkan program bantuan untuk desa tertinggal – miskin - . “Semua berkasnya sudah saya simpan di meja Bu. Ada delapan belas desa yang telah mengajukan, lima belas desa yang kami anggap masuk dalam kriteria seperti yang kita tentukan, telah kami tinjau kebenarannya, dan memang benar.”
Percakapan itupun tidak berlangsung lama namun meyakinkan karena diwarnai serba intruksi. Staf itu pun keluar dari ruang kerja Ibu Bupati. Seperti layaknya pejabat tinggi lainnya Bupati pun mengambil pulpen yang tertancap di tempatnya. Satu persatu map yang berisi berkas desa tertinggal - miskin – ia periksa dengan sangat teliti. Namun di tumpukkan map kesembilan ia berhenti dan menatapnya dengan heran. Tertulis desa dan nama kepala desa yang kemarin tidak ingin disebut sebagai desa MISKIN.

Kumpulan sms lucu

2008-11-04T18:02:00.000-08:00

Mo blg kngn, diblng sok dekat.
Mo bilang sayang, takut dianggap gk taw malu.
Mo bilang…CINTA, Tkt dh ada yg poenya.
Terpaksa dech cm bs bilang lg ngapa??
======================================Wafer bkata pd coklat“Qt ni sungguh manis kn?”
Coklt menjawab“ U pikir qt yg paling mnis?U liat donk org yg baca sms niLebih Manis!!Liat..LIatDy tersenyumDuh.. Manisnya…”=========================================Stitik ksh mbwt qt sayanx,
seucap kta mmbwt qt percaya,
sekecil luka mbwt qt kecewa,
tp sebuah P’shabtan akn slamanya bermakna…========================================
Aku ingin mencintaimu dengan sederhana Dengan kata yang tak sempat diucapkan kayu kepada api yang menjadikannya abu,dengan isyarat yang tak sempat disampaikan awan kepada hujan yang menjadikannya tiada==========================================Musim Terindah adalah ….Ketika kau nyalakan pagi dengan senyummuKetika kau payungi siang dengan sapamuKetika kau tutup malam dengan belai manjamu
I luv u…=====================================Prtmnan qt g seperti esia yg setia 1 jm
Gk seperti baygon yg setia 8 jm
N gk sprt pepsodent
Yg setia 12 jam
Prtmanan qt hrs sperti…?
Rexona
Yg setia setiap saat
=======================================Bukan laut namanya jika airnya tidak berombak, bukan cinta namanya jika perasaan tidak pernah terluka…=============================PERINGATAN PEMERINTAH: HATI2 THD SMUA UNGKAPAN CINTA DAN RAYUAN LEWAT SMS, KARENA SEMUANYA BOHONG. KECUALI SMS DARIKU????
===============================Rayulah aku,dan aku mungkin tak mempercayaimu. Kritiklah aku, dan mungkin aku tak menyukaimu. Acuhkan aku, dan mungkin aku tak memaafkanmu. Semangatilah aku, dan mungkin aku tak kan melupakanmu(William Arthur) ==================================Inginku kirimBUNGA, takut ia knLAYU, ingin ku kirimSENYUM, takut takDIBALAS, ingin kukirim RINDU, takutHASRAT tak ksmpaian.jadi, ku kurim DOA
agr dirimu sht sllu..==================================
Kata PETERPAN hidup itu butuh dengan SAHABAT.Biar kita tidak KESEPIAN kayak DIGTA,Dan juga kita jangan kayak RATU yang bisanya cuma nyari TTM,Kan kita sudah dibilangin ama RADJA,kita harus JUJUR,Biar tidak PUDAR seperti ROSSA,Makanya kita harus bisa cari CINTA YANG SEMPURNA layaknya KANGEN BAND.
====================================S-SeandainyaE-EngkauL-Lebih kenalA-Akan dirikuM-Maka akuA-AkanT-TersenyumM-Manis utkmuA-Agar engkauL-Lebih tahuA-Aku sentiasaM-Merinduimu=======================
matamu bak purnama merindubisikmu seperti syahdu menusuk jiwakubibirmu telaga madu manis di sudut senyummubunga depositomu adalah sumber inspirasiku
==============================
MetroTV, CNN, detikcom, Bang Napi, Liputan 6, Antara, ESPN, WordPress News adalah berita basi
kabar darimu lah yang selalu kunanti
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tau ga knapa malem ini ga ada bintang ??soalnya bintangnya pindah semua ke matamu…
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Sekarang aku gendutan gak sih?
km tau gak kenapa?
soalnya….
km udah mengembangkan cinta yang banyak dihatiku….
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cintaku lebih gombal dari pada sekedar gombalan para gombalers======================================
Ingetin aku buat bawa kacamata hitam kalo ketemu kamu yak. Abisnya pesonamu menyilaukanku siy…=====================================
kopi ini pahit, tapi kalau minum sambil melihat dirimu, kopi ini terasa manis deh…
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Bersama SMS ini, kami sampaikan rasa sayang yang tulus. DemikianlahSMS ini disampaikan, atas perhatiannya kami ucapkan terima kasih. Selamat Malam
Pikirkanlah sebelum mengambil keputusan. Tetapi untuk mencintaiku,jangan berpikir terlalu panjang.Aku kirim SMS cinta ini untukmu. Mohon jangan dibalas. Aku takutkamu menjawab sebaliknya Cinta yang mengebu lebih banyak bohongnya. Aku mencintaimu denganbiasa saja. Seperti Matador dengan Bantengnya
Apakah kasih sayang perlu diucapkan? Tidak perlu. Makanya aku kirimSMS ini padamu, hingga tidak perlu mengucapkannya.Walaupun pulsaku tinggal sedikit, aku akan tetap mengirim SMS cintauntukmu. Selamat malam..
cowoknya: memperlihatkan senyummu, sungguh tidak baik untuk kesehatanceweknya: lha ko bisa cowoknya: bikin kangen soalnya…ceweknya: ceweknya: huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
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(1) Tadi malam aku kirim bidadari untuk menjaga tidurmu. Eh, dia buru-buru balik. Katanya, ‘Ah, masa bidadari disuruh jaga bidadari?’(2) Kalau kamu nanya berapa kali kamu datang ke pikiranku, jujur aja, cuma sekali. abisnya, ga pergi2 sih!(3) Sempet bingung jg, kok aku bisa senyum sendiri. Baru nyadar, aku lagi mikirin kamu.(4) Kalau suatu saat kamu hancurkan hatiku… akan kucintai kamu dengan kepingannya yang tersisa.(5) Berusaha melupakanmu, sama sulitnya dengan mengingat seseorang yang tak pernah kukenal.(6) Kalau kamu ajak aku melompat bareng, aku ngga bakalan mau. Mending aku lari ke bawah, bersiap menangkapmu.(7) Aku pernah jatuhkan setetes air mata di selat Sunda. Di hari aku bisa menemukannya lagi, itulah waktunya aku berhenti mencintaimu.(8) Ga usah janjiin bintang dan bulan untuk aku, cukup janjiin kamu bakal selalu bersamaku di bawah cahayanya.(9) Kalau kamu nanya mana yg lebih penting buat aku: hidupku atau hidupmu, aku bakal jawab hidupku. Eits, jangan marah dulu, karena kamulah hidupku.(10) Pertama ketemu, aku takut ngomong sama kamu. Pertama ngomong sama kamu, aku takut kalau nanti suka sama kamu. Udah suka, aku makin takut kalau jatuh cinta. Setelah sekarang cinta sama kamu, aku jadi bener2 takut kehilangan kamu. Kamu emang menakutkan!(11) Ketika hidup memberiku seratus alasan untuk menangis, kau datang membawa seribu alasan untuk tersenyum.(12) Jika aku bisa jadi bagian dari dirimu, aku mau jadi airmatamu, yang tersimpan di hatimu, lahir dari matamu, hidup di pipimu, dan mati di bibirmu(13) Wah, ini angka sial???! (enggak ding). Udah dulu ya… Soal sms-sms itu, ga usah nanya dari mana sumbernya, selama Anda bisa membuatnya datang dari hati.
=============================Cara Merayu Wanita (JANGAN MUNTAH….)(dikereta…)Cowok : Mbak jangan pegangan sama besi kereta..Cewek : Emang kenapa..?Cowok : Kayaknya besinya kotor tuh.. pegangan sama aku aja… :))
Cowok: Maaf mba, jangan terlalu lama duduk dikursi itu, pindah dideket saya ajaCewek: Loh?? kenapa??Cowok: Takut dikerubung semut.. soalnya mba manis.. Cowok : Mbak, orang tuanya pengrajin bantal ya..?Cewek : Hah..!!!? bukan.. Emang kenapa..?Cowok : kok kalo deket sama mbak rasanya nyaman yach..Cowok : Mbak jangan ngomong ya..Cewek : Lho.. emang kenapa..?Cowok : Karena biasanya aku malemnya enggak bisa tidur kalo abis denger suara dari bibir yang indah…Cowok : Mbak bajunya enggak pernah disetrika ya..?Cewek : Enak aja… emang kenapa..?Cowok : biasanya kalo cewek udah cantik enggak perlu lagi nyetrika baju..Cowok: Mbak, bapaknya ahli perbintangan ya??Cewek: Ah.. enggak, memang kenapa??Cowok: Saya lihat bintang dimata mbak… Cowok: “kamu itu seperti sendok…”Cewek: “Kenapa?”Cowok: “Karena kamu ngaduk-ngaduk perasaan aku…”Cowok: “Mbak punya obeng nggak?”Cewek: “Hah? Gak Punya tuh.”Cowok: “Tapi kalo nomor telepon punya
kan
?”
Cowok: “Kamu sekali-sekali nyuci piring dooonk”Cewek: “Hah? emang kenapa ?”Cowok: “Ini tangan kamu terlalu lembut…”Cowok: “Kamu pasti enggak pernah maen bola ya..”Cewek: “Iya laaah.. emang kenapa…?”Cowok: “Soalnya kaki kamu bagus banget….”Cowok: “Mbak punya uang koin? Boleh minta?”Cewek: “Buat apa ?”Cowok: “Aku udah janji sama ibu kalau aku akan menelepon dia bila aku jatuh cinta”Co: Eh eh.. gw ada tebakan nehCe: .. ok ok.. apa tebakannyaCo: Panda apa yang paling imut manis dan lucu?Ce: Semua panda mah imut kali..Co: Engga.. ada satu yg paling ga ngebosenin..Ce: Nyerah deh..Co: Panda-ngin kamu sepanjang hari..Ce: Ah.. abang ah.. (malumalubego)
co: kok kamu msh marah sih ama aku ?katanya kamu selalu memberikan seribu maaf untukku ?ce: Sapa suruh mau percaya ? kamu bodoh yah…co: Emang aku ini bodoh…tapi aku bukan org bodoh yang menyukai dirimu..ce: ………..
Co: knapa malem ini gelap banget yaCe: mendung kali bangCo: kyknya nggak dechCe: trus napa bangCo: soalnya bulannya sedang menerangi& menemaniku disini
co: kemarin aku liat ada 1000 bintang di langitce: ah yang bener??co: iya bener, tapi sekarang tinggal 998 bintang…ce: lho…kow bisa ilang dua?co: iya 2 bintang yang ilang itu ternyata ada di dalam mata kamu(sambil liat matanya dalam2)
co: bapak kamu maling ya?ce: ih….kow jahat sie bapak ku dibilang maling. kow gitu?co: iya soalnya kamu pintar banget mencuri hatiku..
co: bapak kamu nahkoda ya?ce: enggak kow….co: tapi koq aku ingin sekali berlabuh di pelabuhan hatimu….
co: Lo kenapa sih?co: Sakit ga sih?ce: Sakit kenapa?co: Bidadari kaya lo, jatuh dr langit.. Sakit ga sih?
co: say, 1 + 1 berapa ??ce: 2 sayco: salah mustinya itu 1ce: koq bisaco: karena nanti cinta ku dan cintamu akan melebur menjadi 1ce: ah say bisa aje de :
co: gw lage bingung nehce: bingung napa ??co: iya bingung,aja. .kok lo bisa ada disini ya sekarang ..??ce: loh maksudnya ??? (tambah bingung juga )co: iya, soalnya gw pikir bidadari tuh adanya di kayangance: *&^$^&
ce: bang, kalo aye jadi bunga, abang jadi apa?co: abang pengen jadi matahari neng…ce: kok ga jadi kumbang sih bang??co: kan bunga ga bisa hidup tanpa matahari neng…
ce: mmm,, kalo aye jadi bulan, abang jadi apa?co: abang tetep pengen jadi matahari neng…ce: kan matahari ma bulan ga isa ketemu bang??co: kan bulan bisa bersinar karena sinar matahari neng..
co: kamu tahu apa definisi dari indah ??ce: mm..yg jelas indah itu cantik…co: well bener sih, tp menurut gw …indah itu adalah saat dimana kita ngga merasakan sedikit punkeburukan di dalamnya ..kmu pernah ngerasain yg begitu ???ce: mungkin kalee yaco: klo aku sering bgt…dan itu adalah saat…..diriku bersama dengandirimuce: malu======================
Dari bule sono:
M: “Are you an Interior Decorator?”W: “No. Why?”M: “When I saw you enter, the room became beautiful”
—————————————————–M: “Are you religious?”W: “Yes “M: “Good, because I’m the answer to your prayers.”
————————————————–M: “Baby, did you fart, Cause you blow me away…”
—————————————————————–M: “How is your fever?”W: “What Fever?”M: “Oh.. you just look so hot to me…”
—————————————-M: “Wow! I didn’t know that angels could fly so low!”
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(This is a good one !)
M: “Can I get a picture of you to prove to my friends that angels do really exist.”
———————————————————————M: “Wow! How did you do that???!!!”W: “Do what?”M: “Look so good…”
—————————————————-M: “Hey Laura!! (Big Hug), I haven’t seen you FOREVER!!!! (Huge KISS)Wow, you’ve really have changed!!!W: “Wait, I’m not Laura..”M: “What? Oh my god, You even changed your name!!!

Beranda Final X 2

2008-11-04T17:06:00.000-08:00

Bila Anda membuka website ini berarti Anda tengah masuk dalam dunia X dinemsi dua. Dalam website ini kami akan membanwa Anda pada pencerahan berpikir dan berimajinasi. Berpikir dan berimajinasi bagi kami merupakan hal yang sangat penting karena imajinasi dan pikiran merupakan bagian yang tidak dapat terpisahkan. Seperti halnya dengan pasta gigi dan gigi yang tidak mungkin terpisah, begitupun gerak dan diam yang semuanya saling terkait. Bila pasta gigi tanpa gigi maka percuma begitupun dengan gerak tidak mungkin terputus dengan diam karena bila kita diam tentu bergerak. Berpikir dan berimajinasi tentu bagian yang juga tidak dapat terpisah karena berpikir akan percuma tanpa memunculkan imajinasi begitupun dengan imajinasi akan percuma tanpa berpikir.
Ada pertanyaan mana yang lebih utama berpikir atau berimajinasi? jawaban saya tentu adalah terserah karena saya tidak akan peduli dengan jawaban apapun. Saya tidak membutuhkan jawaban tapi saya lebih membutuhkan praktik, praktik, praktik. Saya tidak membutuhkan perdebatan apalagi omongan yang saling menjatuhkan. Ya... saling menjatuhkan dengan perdebatan - perdebatan seperti para pejabat - pejabat yang selalu berdebat tapi tidak pernah ada kebenarannya. Ya... bukan hanya itu ulama pun saat ini telah menjadi para pengkhianat. Agama hany menjadi alat untuk mendapatkan pengaruh dan diakui oleh orang lain. Jujur saya sangat benci apabila ada orang yang mempengaruhi orang lain. Bukankah setiap orang memiliki hak untuk menentukan nasibnya sendiri? Tugas manusia bukan mempengaruhi hanya untuk mengingatkan bukan memaksa. Mengapa manusia lebih suka dengan berbicara daripada berbuat? (Ups!!!! maaf kalau saya terlalu emosi).
Tapi biarlah saya emosi karena dengan emosi itu justru akan membuka karakter manusia yang sebanarnya (jujur). Bagitupun saya sangat emosi dalam membuat website ini karena aku sayang pada final X2 bagi saya merka bukan sekedar kawan tapi mereka adalah bagian yang tak dapat terpisahkan dalam hidup saya. Bila Anda bertanya mengapa? Karena mereka telah bersama dalam mengisi hidup saya yang tidak mungkin saya hapuskan (Bodoh bila saya menghapus sejarah hidup).
Final X2 itulah nama yang secara tiba - tiba terbersit dalam pikiranku ketika mengingat siswa - siswa X2 SMA Mandiri Cirebon. Mengapa Final X2? Saya dapatkan nama itu dari sebuah film luar negeri yang menceritakan tentang sekelompok para pahlawan yang berada dalam satu pemikiran yang sama yaitu menyelamatkan dunia. Saya berharap begitu pun dengan mereka (siswa -siswa X2 SMA Mandiri Cirebon) yang suatu saat akan mengguncang dunia dengan karya - karyanya. Ya, saya berharap dan bermimpi. Itu yang saya punya minpi dan harapan karena dengan mimpi dan harapan itu saat ini saya tengah berimajinasi dan berpikir untuk membentunya kearah Final X2.
Final X2 merupakan sekelompok orang - orang yang sangat menarik. Karena mereka selalu berbeda. Baik, tidak sombong, tidak nakal, penyabar, penurut, patuh, jarang dihukum (wadauuuuu.....gedubraaag). Oh iya saya harus jujur kalau siswi - siswi X2 memang sedikit berbeda dengan yang lain mereka pemberani dan maaf tomboy. Tapi lelakinya yang baik - baik lo, (baik di sini, baik di sana selalu baik). Terlebih walikelasnya super baik (awas kalau ada yang ngomong ga baik tak pukul....... whadejig sampai tertawa). Salam sukses selalu untuk Kelas X2 SMA Mandiri Cirebon.

Kabar dari X2 SMA Mandiri

2008-11-02T21:34:00.000-08:00

Salam.... salam ...... salam..... masa alam malas

Kelas x2 merupakan satu bagian kelas yang berada di SMA Mandiri Cirebon. Kelas ini terisi oleh anak - anak yang begitu berbakat (dari berbicara sampai ngebanyol) terlebih kalau sedang bergurau (tidak ada duanya nyelekit). Kelas ini terdapat 37 siswa yang masing - masing siswa memiliki karakter sendiri sendiri. berikut karakter dan