“Kukunyah sejarah” seperti anak kecil ia mengunyahnya bagai permen karet, manis, ia tiup dan bikin gelembung bulatan bola, lantas di mulutnya muncul bola transparan menjelma bola dunia. Ia tiup kembali hingga besar makin besar sampai pecah, pyaaaaaaaaaaaarrrr… permen karet itu menerpa hidung menutupi sebagian wajahnya. Ia bersin, “Hattsyiii”

Saat itu pula dunia pecah, jutaan peristiwa melesat berkejaran lewati ruang waktu memasuki pintu-pintu rahasia sejarah manusia sejak jaman batu sampai jaman manusia makan batu
ketemu dan minum kopi dengan Sophokles
minum racun dengan Socrates
ngobrol ngalor-ngidul sama Semar
perkara hak azazi manusia di atas semesta

Semua peristiwa tercetak rapih dalam disket otaknya
hanya dengan kedipan mata, segala peristiwa bisa ia tonton kapan saja
potret buram sejarah atau potret dalam amplop coklat
berstempel merah “rahasia”

(entah, siapa lagi yang jadi korban, ribuan orang hilang
akibat penculikan menghiasi wajah Jakarta)
Semua peristiwa itu, menyerbu retina matanya
Ajaib, muncul tenaga gaib, seketika matanya berbinar
Lihat!
Bola matanya berputar bagai globe di meja ibu guru
bola itu berputar semakin kencang dan saksikanlah;
birunya langit samudra
hutan terbakar
iringan gerbong manusia ke ladang pembantaian
kepanikan warga kota jalur Gaza
saat truk berisi bom bunuh diri tabrakan badan. “Allahu Akbar!”

Ia juga saksikan antrian panjang pengangguran
dan ibu-ibu rebutan sembako di negri “Gemah ripah loh Jinawi”

Semua atmosfir peristiwa itu seakan nyata di urat nadinya,
ada magma gunung api, mangalir bersama darah
masuk sumsum tulang, lompat dan bermukim di otak
tercipta catatan sejarah tanpa cela

“Simsalabim, Abracadabra!”

Di negeri ini, orang punya peta saja bisa tersesat.
Begitu banyak tukang sulap yang merubah jejak sejarah
sesuai angka mistik atau Hongtsui atau wangsit atau
“Atas anjuran daripada sesuai petunjuk Bapak Presiden”
untuk menghapus jejak waktu, merancang peternakan kambing hitam
serta mengerahkan mobil pemadam kebakaran
menghapus jejak darah di jalan, milik demonstran atau orang bayaran
atau rakyat jelata yang terjebak skenario macan
(Apa orang yang selalu memakai kacamata hitam
di otaknya bersemayam Machiaveli?) Berdarah!

Di buku-buku sejarah banyak jejak tak tercetak
rakyat cuma berperan jadi korban atau sapi bantaian
Sejarah cuma milik Raja-Raja tambun
Apa tak pantas ada nama Sengkon, Marsinah, Udin atau siapa?
Oom Yap, misalnya!

(Nashar menulis surat-surat malam,
Usmar melintasi jam malam menerobos kawat-kawat berduri)

Lihat, ada demonstran menghadang tank di lapangan Tiannantmen
ada bhiksu membakar diri di jalan,
ada barisan tentara memukuli mahasiswa disertai gas airmata
Gandhi bilang: “semua manusia bersaudara.”
Sementara, Anne Frank, 14 tahun,
sebelum ajal menjemput menulis di buku hariannya;
“I still believe that, people are really good ad heart.”
Apa kita tak punya rasa malu?
Multatuli alias Doewes Dekker menentang V.O.C
memperjuangkan juga hak Saijah dan Adinda serta petani Lebak

“Oo, kenapa masih saja ada darah tumpah, apa manusia
sudah berubah jadi lebih nista dari serigala!” teriaknya
Ia pernah terbaring, meringkuk di balik selimut
botol infuse di nadinya
ampul obat di meja, serta belati di balik bantalnya.
Tapi selalu saja, radio transitor 2 band
di ruang piket suster penjaga meraung-raung;
“Dendam ada dimana-mana. Dendam!”

“What’s happened?”
“Ssst, off the record!”

(O, ada dusta yang disuntikkan dengan dalih vaksinasi
Over dosis! Jika manusia cuma dianggap sekrup
Jika anak bangsa cuma dianggap angka
digiring masuk labirin satu ke labirin lain di balik laci)

Almarhum Bung Karno, Bung Hatta, Syahrir, Boedi Oetomo,
Teuku Umar, Coet Nyak Dien, Sisingamangaraja, Imam Bonjol,
Kartini, Chairil serta ribuan bunga bangsa lainnya,
apa terpatri di hati kita?

Jika tak, ribuan arwah pahlawan tanpa nama dan kuburan
kan bangkit menggumamkan himne kematian orang-orang

Awas! Angin kencang dan kobaran api kan merontokan kota-kota
Banjir bandang kan datang dan melibas sawah serta palawija
di desa-desa. Epidemi mengintai dari balik jendela tidurmu. Awas!

(Di otaknya, berkibar bendera merah putih setengah tiang
sepanjang hari. Simphony belasungkawa terdengar muram
ketika tahu ada lagi korban yang mati.
Astaga, apa kita masih merasa menjadi manusia?)

Kejadian tahun berikutnya, ia hanya ikuti lewat rangkaian mimpi
Pernah ia bermimpi menjabat erat sesama tanpa mengenal kasta,
warna kulit, apalagi bendera dan terpancarlah di wajahnya
aura kemurnian seorang manusia merdeka

Jakarta, November 1998

[Dari antologi puisi Amien Kamil “Tamsil Tubuh Terbelah”, Mata Angin Publisher, 2007. 10 besar buku puisi terbaik Khatulistiwa Literary Award 2007-2008]
http://sastra-indonesia.com/2021/02/monolog-amien-kamil-simfony-belasungkawa/

I
Raden Mas Subroto meditated
to face Sang Hyang Widi.
He in the long time meditated in love
for Suminten to be his beloved
until he was dead.

On the Jaran Dawuk foothill
he was wrestling with the universe;
in every breath in the air,
his voice slowly got soar
like cloud drifted by the wind.
The air in his body was soaring
like steam of water boiled until disappearing.

Like the dew his tear was dripping.
Like a cliffs his willpower was towering.
Strands of hair as dark as wine
flow like a river in the night,
like his inner wish being flared up
similar to heart-wrenching song of bamboo pipe.

II
The Son of Duke of Trenggalek Brotokusumo
always chanted mantras
his desire was melted away in the ancient mount,
in which The Resi purifies Himself from earthly interest.

His body took cross-legged.
His soul got around hill of love
insinuating
among the gaps of leafy leaves of
trees.

Sometimes his soul transformed into a bird,
also got in a pale and shuffling body,
screaming before flying away
toward no man’s land.
The time rapidly turns
like the hot earth revolves
breaking the pride and greed.

III
The bitterness of reading a fate
is like the sliced young wood
shedding the red sap .

Although it is accomplished, the story to overtake
remains shaking his faith.
Everything is ordained.
“When destiny is established, nothing can stop it” [“Wahyaning wahyu
tumelung, tulus tan kena tinegor,”],
Romggowarsito said
in his masterpiece, Wirid Hidayat Jati.

Long, long before the poets
sniffed any tidings
that never runs out to access,
the universe is shrouded by His mystery,
stretching between water-air.

The glint of her eyes to be an augury
sadness of her heart conveyed his destiny
sculpted on the heaven clearly.
The black ink flows in abundance overwhelmingly
getting in and out for spreading the loyalty
in the time-space that is very very empty
like beating a drum unsuccessfully.

IV
Subroto took the deep breath
creeping over scroll of His grace
through fingers of his sense.

The greater his belief,
the stronger his desire
to unify the person…..
surrounded with Jaran Dawuk hill
by spirit of the pure hearted Resi
for preserving his love.

No words for shaky,
no doubt shaking up
“Be!, then be!” a legend.

Afterwards, Suminten suddenly woke up from her sleeping,
gaspedly looking for a jug but nothing
it is the weirdest thirst, as thirsty as strange something.

She was sobbingly crying: “Why she be born”?
And what to pray for?”, when everything is annihilated in vain?!

V
Sum….Sum…..The arrow
has shot out of the arc,
don’t cry over spilt milk.
Suminten got wroth for the wrong preference.
Guno Seco Lurah Siman, her father
began to realize the great feel of shame
his face was so gloomy
though he was very honest on His will.

Subroto’s willingness was like riggings of Lencurangan,
twisted by longing for decades
went freely as far as the power of long to crawl over the body.

Now, Raden Mas Subroto was transformed into the cloud.
The ashes of Kayungyung was scaterred on the every passed road.
Subroto was endlessly narrated
at every village where Suminten passed.

VI
Suminten
who used to be gracious,
now is really riotous.
Her parents took blamed each other,
she couldn’t hold back her feeling.

She used to dress up modestly,
now she looks like a woman with seductive face.
glance of her eyes were like hungry eagle.
that its flap of wings led to danger.

The flame Subroto flashed on
in her soul flared up.
For many years she had suffered,
though herself frequently drew closer
to the Almighty;
as if her invocation was rejected.

She herself frazzled her clothes.
Her soul wandered for a handle.
Her parents no longer recognized
what was going on.
Her whole family got surrender
on any decision as quickly as possible.

VII
Subroto transformed into white clouds charming.
Suminten didn’t know where to be going.
If it is a devotion, she has been fulfilling.
Herself was only remains of waiting.

The cloud subsequently thundered.
The heavy rain made guts dwindled
for several choices which were ill-advised.
Jaran Dawuk hill trembled,
some of the stones cracked.

Hum of the song was no longer heard,
dreams were not caught by rainbow during daylight,
due to his spirit was released to pursue his beloved.

It happened for a long time.
As heavy as its one and only Subroto’s sacrifice
and Suminten madness it was really achieved,
despite she was used to be female.

Noni fruit fell down to spread the seeds,
everything disappeared like young coconut leaves began to age
or no longer grew in front of her house.

(9/10/2012 Ponorogo – 16/2/2013 Lamongan)
https://sastra-indonesia.com/2017/09/balada-suminten-kedanan/

At the dark night, there was no stars even one or the beauty face of the moon. Ken Angrok with his knight body was riding on black horse, broke through the nature of without shadow. He Attacked forward without any doubt, along with animal’s neigh. Scared to mob of wolf that was usually piercing on the old lime hill.

Only blind leaves as the witnesses of his moved. And the wind that was as much as Angrok’s breaths gone heels over head. Through hard shock, spent the thick night without any conversation in the middle way. The heart was humming and the mind was flaming up. It evaporated as such the fog of Merapi Mountain that billows as much as the smoke of burnt limekiln.

Then he arrived at the road of the seashore of silent, the stepped rocks have vengeance. His step kept forward and lunged, to attend his fate for the sake of getting certitude. How his blood was boiled as such a flunky stolen his heart, captivated by frame of heart of a woman. He was still haunted by the pretty face that had token as a wife by the bastard destiny.

He had far from the border of town, also left the muddy sand to come into the gate of village. It was so quiet, his blood increased boiled beyond the limit of the longing of silent. The flying one as much as the taking of cloud incarnated to be the rain of anger. He stopped his horse in front of Empu Gandring’s pendopo (attached open veranda). While the grasses of flowers were lies down around it, at the beginning was fully comfort.

Shocked by the arriving of the conqueror. With the steady feet he went down from his horse without any shy and banished his reluctant, Angrok stood before Mpu Gandring. The Mpu had already known the natural indication was unpleasantness. What had been told by the flower of prabusetmata on a line of its eyelids was, such as whisker set eye on its prey. The MPu smelled the disaster would happen onto him and also onto the young man whom came without any respect.

But, was it so? Let’s continue to follow my record when I woke up. This was shock unequivocally realized. It did not continuance plot flew through, but it is the essence of saga beyond the logic of history penetration. Without any well mannered Agrok said:

Make me a creese that is the best of its power. Find me granite for the sake of the quality of deep forging, before the steel you put on its skin. Create seven curves, because that is the number of the world glory. Its handle might be from the sandalwood that grows at the middle of full moon night. And don’t forget submerged it with seven various flower, and beside that give it the salt from the Hindi ocean.

I hope the creese would be incomparable, any one sees it will be unnerved till their legs would be like stone after they become numb. Don’t be long. I think half year will be enough. I will take it at that time when it ready or not. If you don’t obey me, I believe you already know who I am, and what I will do for the humanity. Hence, prepare your certitude, before I name you as a coward whom deceits the everlasting noble talent.

Ki Mpu asked for more time. Because of with that so short time, an invulnerable creese wouldn’t be perfect. But the conversation was with one ear. Angrok insisted that his words must be kept. Dialogue with one man as the ruler could harm the ear and crossed the eyes. The destiny changed so quickly. Angrok left uneasy problem for Mpu and also for himself. What had desired was merely the revenge to take Ken Dedes back into his arm.

Lets just say that Angrok didn’t brawny enough than Tunggul Ametung. But his handsome could suck gravity of the women; to the one who stared at him would be broken heart. His spirit was so strong, demanded the will that was far beyond people in his period.

With the pallid face, Ki Mpu saw the back of Angrok left the pendopo. As if he was ambushed by the angels of death from any direction, on the request by forcing of the desire that kept culminate. And then Ki Mpu took meditation, set his inner for an invulnerable creese as the idea of the wild boy.

Who was the creator of creese, is it true that Mpu Gandring created it? Every special order is the man who ordered as the creator. Mpu is merely performs the energy of the man, infiltrated in a masterpiece.

The granite forging tinkle was as hard as the firmness of Angrok destination to take by force Dedes back. Oily on flat of the steel, the mirror of the clearness of Angrok captured the situation, tricked his fate climbing the arena of struggling. Every curve of the creese is the circle of thought of Angrok in dealing the tragedy of soul, piled with the longing and revenge.

Ki Mpu was just his hand. Because without creese, Ametung had died by Angrok’s spirit. And the order to create weapon was merely a respect to both of them. Angrok is the creator. Ki Mpu just conjured Angrook’s desire to incarnate to be the quality flat that is proportional and flare up.

At the day, Mpu Gandring searched the plant for compounding into the forest, and at the night he continued his ritual. Forged the steel and oiled with the magic oil and meditated in order to be perfect. It is a work of Angroks which will not ever decrease of its story especially in the land of Dwipa.

While at the other place, Angrok was preparing the force of coup, in order he got agreement from the people. All ministers were so scared such as the river rat. The Ametung’s guards were assumed by him as hunger dogs, once he threw meat in front of them, they would praise the master. Angrok, the man who knows how to co change the narrowness to be chances, he reversed the narrow to be wideness. He always can observe the symptom of the inside nature and also outside.

He was so long to seduce the song of life and he deemed it has the power to determine, which wished to absorb the meaning of wandering (processes). The owner of strong character is not the rock, but the waves paint onto the steep walls. His step is the consciousness of wind, until the observer of his steps was so worried the uncontrolled chaos moment.

Angrok, he is the revolutionary without knowledge, his reference is the around tragedies and it wouldn’t be taken unless to get more; reddish lips, the shimmering eyes, the curved eyelids such as the trees of the lines of hill, chin sharpened down into the gorge showered by the rain. The thirsty of his flattery was as such a shaking of casuarinas tree mingled with the smell of dawn.

Every night, he was counting the calendar behind the darkened windows. A creese and a beautiful body of the light of Ken Dedes, whose eyes were wistful and if long time she was not visited would engender love. Six-month had passed away he waited the time of desired motion. At the afternoon of the last days of Mpu Gandring finished the fateful creese. Angrok was riding on the stallion with voiced roar and caused flying dust, the cloud was watching it in fear.

He rode the longing that piled such as the mountain of a vengeful on the calculated time. The sky was more thickened, when the old calendar torn by resurrection day. Through the hibiscus trees has skin could use as rope and whip, kapok as white as corpse. Surpassed teak trees and firmed the self confidence and also on the very strong believe in his heart.

Thousands distance of grasses was trampled; he wiped out weeds with the wind of fighting. The stones were the stairs of testimony; he saw the lake turned away the water of face. The cold wind blew to tame guts of the vegetation around pendopo. Ki Mpu was shivering found the bad feeling picked him home to a very foreign land of his own land.

His comfort collapsed by chaos feeling without knowing the hell’s going on. Then he remembered day and night he forged a creese for wild boy reaching the conviction. And before he finished memorizing Angrok’s face. Angrok came down from the horse of destiny. His voice of the clearing of throat was as hard as the thunder frightens the sky, his sight was like lightning flashed onto the smallest corners.

Angrok voice came to his ear; O the mighty Ki Mpu, The keeper of the wisdom the main precursor, where is my creese? I have been waiting until my willing fossilized, my expecting engendered trance every time I remembered it.
My expectation is still in my mind about the history of human being without the prince, so painful asking for my beloved. The contained value perpetuated you in the record of time. Be thankful I gave you the task, not one I told unless you, the noble man.
That is your glory; I never raised up high the previous respect. So where are my rights?

Be patience young man; Mpu Gandring said. The creese you ordered I have not been covered Asmak of perfect. What will be the immature of the cloud of doubt, it will bring calamity. But, Angrok gone berserk, he took the creese from Gandring’s hand vehemently. The Mpu insisted to hold it tight.

Angrok said loudly and fully anger; Hey Ki Mpu, the creese is my soul. You could not create it without my spirits. That is not your privilege and your duty is give it to me. I have given you greatness to create what you want, but why you are so arrogant now. Is there any jealousy of you to the creese, whom it is the manifestation of my personality?

When Mpu Gandring heard Angrok’s chatter, he was complacent such as a kid persuaded by the promise of sweets. Angrok did not waste to forcibly seize. But Mpu is not an ordinary person, nimbly he expelled the attacking. Then they fought. Both were scrambling the creese of self pride. Fate has been outlined, the day when Angrok killed. So, all Gandring’s strength was only to defense until he got tired. But the hunting of Angrok had already signed by the most night sky, and even the depth of the very cruel ocean.

In the dying he cursed; Angrok, you stabbed me with the creese, then you and until your seventh descent, shall perish with the same dagger. Angrok regretted his action was too hasty; he created another destiny and the curse to become the reality at the day after. Not because of the invulnerable of Gandring, but he was haunted by the regret believed and it’s done. Guilty is death kept feelings of anxiety haunts.

Angrok met Ken Dedes at the castle. Unbeknownst to both, Tunggul Ametung stared at them releasing the longing each other, spending the time at dusk purple. Ametung watched them such as rabbit, skulked. The late evening was gathering its anger, but it did not want to spill it on the spot. Then the night was falling.

At Kliwon of Thursday night Ametung awoke, he was pacing up and down at the living room. Scratching his head was because of nothing, it seemed there would be something gone away from him. While Dedes slept tight dreaming for the day after she met again with her beloved Angrok in the castle. That night Ametung didn’t see his wife’s face, Dedes didn’t worry at all. A face of boy lost and got clarity in Angrok’s expression, it is such as the flower swept by fresh breeze of the drizzle.

Ametung was still milling around and he did not enter the booth of Ken Dedes. His anger planned for fair battle, between himself with a young motherfucker, Angrok. Basic story line has been determined; Ametung was shingled by the invulnerability of the great man as the precursor of the brilliant history of Shingosari. He was unable to withstand heavy drowsiness, but he still did not go to bed, as if it was not so easily to shingle him even for a while.

But unfortunately, morning breeze assaulted him from everywhere. He felt asleep in the living room above his throne. Angrok, who followed him since the castle and watched his movements, smelled the savory of death. Ametung’s blood had covered by the wind of guerrilla. Freely, Angrok plunged the creese of Gandring by his wish. He stabbed it into Ametung’s pit of stomach, until the angel of death did not hesitate to take Ametung’s life.

All done receives a reward, inadequacy sees clarity, and longing meets the red kisses. Finally, without any doubt the authorities fear of imitation rotten time, burn it with a flaring desire. Praise opponents at the bright side, appreciate as the honor. Mpu Gandring without Angrok will not be remembered.

Java, Malang – Lamongan.
Basic reference from the book “Penulisan Sejarah Jawa” (Writing Java History), written by C.C. Berg, translated by S. Gunawan, published by Bhratara Jakarta, 1974.
http://www.sastra-indonesia.com/2010/03/hikayat-keris-gandring-dan-terbunuhnya-tunggul-ametung/