A Poet<\/p>\n
By Manaf Maulana<\/p>\n
Having earned his literature degree, Pandu returned to his
\nvillage, hoping that he would be able live there all his life and
\nbelieving that a rural life would always bring him serenity and
\nmake him happy as a poet.<\/p>\n
Well, it was all right for him to consider himself a poet.
\nDidn't he spend every single day of his life writing poems, which
\nhe sent to various media publications and from which he sometimes
\nreceived an honorarium.<\/p>\n
Contrary to his wishes, however, it was not so easy to lead a
\npeaceful and happy life as a poet in the village. Many a neighbor
\nharbored a suspicion against him. Some said that he was jobless
\nwhile others accused him of keeping a tuyul, a spirit that
\nobtains wealth for its human master, because he stayed at home
\nthe whole day and went out at night for a bowl of meatball and
\nnoodles and a cup of coffee at a nearby food stall. Still others
\nbelieved that he was a little insane because he was often seen
\nsitting in deep contemplation or talking to himself, or even
\nwalking around, looking up and smiling.<\/p>\n
His parents, both farmers, had grown tired of giving him
\nadvice. As he was an only child, they simply let him stay at home
\nand never asked him to leave.<\/p>\n
One day Pandu went to the local village office to renew his
\nidentification card. The village chief asked him to complete an
\napplication form.<\/p>\n
"A poet? What is a poet??!" the village chief said, raising
\nhis voice a little, after reading the completed application form.
\nIn the space provided for one's occupation, Pandu had written the
\nword "poet".<\/p>\n
"I am indeed a poet, Sir!" he said, without hesitation.<\/p>\n
"I don't like having a poet as one of my people," the village
\nhead said curtly.<\/p>\n
"Why, Sir?"<\/p>\n
"Poets are fond of staging demonstrations. They like to incite
\nrioting!"<\/p>\n
"You are mistaken, Sir. No poets like demonstrations or riots.
\nYou must have misunderstood TV news, Sir."<\/p>\n
The village chief let out a long snort. He was offended.
\n"Don't you dare argue with me, young man!" he said in his heart.
\nAs a village chief, a leader, however, he hid his resentment and
\nappeared outwardly as one opting to give in. It is no use arguing
\nwith an insane young man, he said to himself.<\/p>\n
"I am a poet, Sir! I don't care whether you like it or not!"<\/p>\n
The village chief gave no response. Secretly, however, he
\nbegan to devise a plan to have the young man banished from the
\nvillage. "What an impudent young man he is to argue with me," he
\nsaid in his heart, again. He did not want to see him in the
\nvillage any more. He did not want him to influence the village
\nyouths and make them read and write poems. He had his own fear:
\nthe innocent villagers, whom he could keep under his control,
\nwould be disobedient to and critical of him, once they were good
\nat reading and writing poems.<\/p>\n
The longer he stayed in the village, the more appealing Pandu
\nwould become to the village youths, male and female. Almost every
\nday young men and young women visited him. They wanted to learn
\nhow to write poems and to send them to the print media. Some of
\nthem were school students but they told him that none of their
\nteachers could tell them how to write poems. Others were
\nunemployed university graduates.<\/p>\n
"I find it more and more difficult to write poems. Many guests
\nvisit me every day," he grumbled, annoyed. Because many visitors
\ncame to his house every day, he practically had no more time to
\ncontemplate new poems. Most of his visitors stayed in the sitting
\nroom for hours, apparently feeling quite at home to relax in his
\nhouse.<\/p>\n
One morning, for example, he intentionally kept his visitors
\nwaiting in the sitting room for hours. He locked himself in his
\nbedroom. Yet the visitors patiently waited for him, some falling
\nasleep and others trying their hand at writing poems and reading
\nthem out aloud.<\/p>\n
As this situation continued almost every day, many parents
\naccused him of mentally spoiling the village youths.<\/p>\n
"If nothing is done to stop this tendency, all young people in
\nthis village will soon be seized by madness," the head of one
\nneighborhood community commented. Almost every day his daughter,
\njust like her friends, wrote and read poems.<\/p>\n
"Pandu must be banished from here," said the head of a group
\nof neighborhood communities. His son and daughter had also taken
\nup their pens to write poems. They also became fond of reading
\npoetry.<\/p>\n
The head of this group of neighborhood communities hurried to
\nthe house of the village chief.<\/p>\n
"Sir, Pandu must be banished from this village immediately,"
\nhe suggested.<\/p>\n
The village chief simply smiled. "Don't be reckless. Pandu is
\nan intelligent young man. If we take a tough stance against him,
\nhe may incite our young people and trigger a riot."<\/p>\n
"But he has got many of our young people to like poetry, Sir."<\/p>\n
"Listen. I have a special way to make him stop writing poems,"
\nhe said, firmly and determinedly.<\/p>\n
The head of the group of neighborhood communities could not
\nmake head or tail of what the village head had said. He took his
\nleave.<\/p>\n
The next morning, the village chief summoned Pandu to his
\noffice.<\/p>\n
"What's up, Sir?" Pandu asked, also firmly.<\/p>\n
"I'd like to give you a job."<\/p>\n
"But I've got one, Sir,"<\/p>\n
"But you don't have to go to the office regularly, do you? It
\nmeans that if you take my offer you still can continue writing
\npoems."<\/p>\n
Pandu knitted his brow.<\/p>\n
"Now, Pandu, you are an intelligent young man. You must be
\nqualified to work in my office, as one of my staffers."<\/p>\n
"No, thanks, Sir, I can't take your offer. I have never dreamt
\nof ever working in an office, Sir. Never."<\/p>\n
The village chief puckered his face in annoyance. Well, this
\nyoung man, who claims to be a poet, is not really easy to
\npersuade, he said to himself. Yet he did not lose hope. "If you
\ntake this offer to be my staffer, you will later take over my
\nposition," he said again.<\/p>\n
Pandu just sneered. "Sorry, Sir! I have never dreamt of having
\na position, let alone the position of a village head. I am proud
\nenough as a poet because not every village can have a poet!"<\/p>\n
The village chief was at his wit's end. He let Pandu take his
\nleave.<\/p>\n
As soon as Pandu left the village administration office,
\nhowever, an idea struck him. "I've got a pretty daughter, Sinta.
\nPerhaps she can persuade Pandu. It is all right for me to have
\nhim as my son-in-law as long as he stops writing poems and is
\nwilling to be my staffer."<\/p>\n
In the following days, Sinta regularly visited Pandu's house.
\nShe wanted to become a poet, too. Pandu was happy to teach her
\nhow to write and read poems. As they often spent time together,
\nthey fell in love with each other and finally got married.<\/p>\n
"Mas Pandu, you'd better take my father's offer to be his
\nstaffer at the village administration office," Sinta urged her
\nhusband after both enjoyed the first night of their marriage.<\/p>\n
Pandu simply smiled. "Don't force me to help nepotism grow in
\nthis village, Jeng."<\/p>\n
Sanggar Kreatif, 1999<\/p>\n
Glossary:<\/p>\n
Mas: the respected way one calls a man, in this case the way a
\nwife calls her husband (in Javanese, literally means elder
\nbrother)<\/p>\n
Jeng: the respected way one calls a woman, in this case the way a
\nhusband calls his wife (in Javanese, literally means younger
\nsister)<\/p>\n
Translated by Lie Hua<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/a-poet-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }