Bohlam


boh·lam n cak bola lampu listrik; lampu busur

Semalam, saya baru sampai rumah sekitar pukul satu dini hari. Sepulang kerja, saya mampir dulu ke ruangrupa untuk mengantarkan oleh-oleh cokelat kepada teman-teman di sana, sebagai hasil perburuan singkat di kios duty-free bandara Schiphol, Amsterdam, akibat tak punya waktu jalan-jalan di tengah padatnya agenda Impakt Festival di Utrecht. Lalu, sempat juga ke pembukaan pameran Gambar Selaw di Om Duleh, yang lokasinya masih di daerah Tebet.

Sesampai di rumah, ritual yang biasa saya lakukan adalah melucuti semua benda yang melekat di tubuh—mulai dari pakaian dan aksesori seperti jam tangan dan gelang, berganti baju dengan kostum kamar yang longgar dan nyaman, menggantung celana jeans di loteng dalam keadaan sisi dalam di luar, mengambil handuk, lalu istirahat sebentar sebelum mandi, atau  ‘mengeringkan keringat’ istilah yang sering dipakai orang-orang. Ya, saya terbiasa mandi malam (dengan air dingin—red) jam berapapun itu. Kecuali, tentunya, jika sedang tidak enak badan.

Jeda sebelum mandi itu biasa saya isi dengan berbagai kegiatan. Semalam, saya mengisinya dengan mengganti bohlam kamar mandi.

Posisi kamar mandi di rumah saya berhadapan dengan tangga. Saat hendak menuju loteng itulah saya mendapati bohlam kamar mandi kedap-kedip; salah satu pertanda bahwa ajalnya kian dekat dan mesti segera diganti. Usai menggantung celana dan mengambil handuk di loteng, saya menyelinap masuk ke kamar ayah saya untuk mengambil bohlam yang baru. Beliau terbiasa menyimpan persediaan bohlam yang cukup banyak di lemari kamarnya.

Berhubung saya agak pengecut dalam hal perlistrikan atau perkomporan, saya akan menggunakan alat bantu saat berurusan dengan keduanya. Untuk mengganti bohlam, biasanya saya menggunakan tongkat khusus agar tak perlu naik kursi dan memegang bohlam secara langsung. Tujuannya agar terhindar dari insiden tersetrum. Sayangnya tongkat yang dicari tak kunjung ketemu. Alhasil saya harus melakukannya dengan cara manual.

Sempat tergoda juga untuk minta bantuan adik yang lagi asyik mengulik gadget DJ (entah apa namanya) di ruang keluarga, tapi akhirnya toh saya kerjakan sendiri. Dengan bantuan kursi yang diambil dari ruang makan, serta kain lap yang saya gunakan agar tak kepanasan saat memegang bohlam, saya sukses mengganti bohlam kamar mandi sendiri.

Saat itulah saya teringat ledekan abang saya dulu.

“Cewek Indonesia kok nggak bisa ganti bohlam lampu sendiri?” 

Saya, yang saat itu masih berseragam putih-biru, menganggap ledekan itu berlebihan, atau ‘lebay’ istilah anak zaman sekarang. Masa untuk urusan ganti bohlam bawa-bawa negara segala?

Semalam, saya cuma bisa cengengesan saat mengenang kembali wajah abang saya saat melontarkan ledekan tersebut sebelum menggantikan bohlam di kamar saya yang saat itu mirip diskotik; lampunya kedap-kedip. Tentu saja semalam saya paham betul maksud ledekan tersebut. Ia mengharapkan adiknya untuk tumbuh mandiri, yang tidak sedikit-sedikit minta bantuan orang lain. Alhasil, adiknya ini merasa sedikit bangga setelah sukses mengganti bohlam kamar mandi semalam. Meskipun sebenarnya saya sendiri merasa urusan perbohlaman ini sepele.

***

Abang saya bukan tipe role model yang segala tingkah lakunya selalu bisa dijadikan panutan. Ia bukan pula tipe siswa yang secara akademis memuaskan. Ia bahkan tak pernah kuliah. Pendidikan pascasekolah yang pernah ia jalani adalah beberapa kursus singkat berbagai bidang, mulai dari sinematografi, komputer, desain grafis, sablon, hingga teknik mesin. Sisanya, ia pelajari secara otodidak sembari mengisi waktu luang dengan membaca karya sastra atau mendengarkan Iwan Fals dan Jimi Hendrix. Saya belajar banyak hal darinya, dan seringnya, dengan cara dan dalam waktu yang tak biasa.

Suatu hari ia mengajarkan saya cara menulis deskripsi dalam cerita pendek, dalam waktu kurang dari lima menit di ruang tamu. Saat itu saya sedang asyik membaca majalah, dan ia hendak ke luar rumah bersama teman-temannya. Sepertinya ia habis membaca salah satu cerita pendek buatan saya di buku tulis. Kira-kira begini ucapannya waktu itu:

“Kalau nulis cerpen, tambahin deskripsi biar suasananya lebih lengkap, dan ceritanya lebih bewarna. Jadi, daripada mengakhiri dialog cuma dengan ‘ujarnya’ atau ‘katanya’, bikin begini aja: ‘Ra, Bang Aan pergi dulu ya!’ ujarnya seraya mengambil bungkus rokok yang ada di atas meja.”

Reseknya, ia langsung ngeloyor pergi usai memberi contoh soal deskripsi tersebut.

Pernah juga suatu hari ia menasihati soal nasihat. Jika tak salah ingat, saat itu saya mengabaikan nasihatnya untuk tak pulang malam, karena toh ia sendiri juga kerap pulang malam. Melihat pemberontakan kecil-kecilan yang dilakukan adiknya, ia pun berujar “Kalau dinasihati, lihat isi nasihatnya, bukan siapa yang menasihati.” Tapi tentu, saya jiwa ABG saya yang bergolak saat itu tak mampu mencerna nasihatnya dengan cermat.

Tepat hari ini, 2 November, ia yang bernama lengkap Ryan Novian dan yang saya panggil ‘Bang Aan’ ini berulang tahun. Jika masih bersama kita, ia genap berusia 36 tahun hari ini. Namun kita tak kuasa melawan kehendak semesta. Delapan tahun lalu, tepatnya 9 Agustus 2004, ia ‘mengucapkan salam perpisahan’ kepada keluarga, teman, dan siapapun yang pernah mengenalnya. Dalam kesunyian dan berada jauh dari rumah, ia menghembuskan napas terakhirnya. Namun saya percaya, ia bersama semua kenangan yang menyertainya, akan tetap hidup selama yang saya inginkan. Seperti bohlam yang pijarnya dapat kita nyala-matikan sekehendak hati.

Selamat ulang tahun, Bang Aan.

.

And I continue
To burn the midnight lamp
Alone

Now the smiling portrait of you
Is still hangin’ on my frowning wall
It really doesn’t, really doesn’t bother me too much at all
It’s just the ever falling dust
That makes it so hard for me to see
That forgotten earring layin’ on the floor
Facing coldly towards the door

I continue
To burn the midnight lamp
Lord, alone

 Burning Of The Midnight Lamp, Jimi Hendrix

.

Gambar diambil dari sini

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The truth is, Ma..

Dear Ma,

To get over you is an impossible thing to do. It’s like to keep living, headless. Obviously I’m not as lucky as that fella cockroach. You know, the headless-but-still-carry-on thingy.

The truth is, I’m living my life day by day with my head up but with the heart broken. I can’t barely remember where was I when you told me that life must go on, no matter what happens. At that moment, I guess I was nodded, just to skip the ma-to-daughter preach so I could continue whatever I was doing back then. I was just a clueless punk. A young gun with no bullets that had no idea about what will come in her near future. Not until August 9th 2004, Ma. Not until your eldest son, my brother, Bang Aan, had gone forever. At that time, your chubby daughter started to panicking. She didn’t have a heart to see her beloved one, yes you, crumbling into pieces, in front of her brother’s grave, your son. Like I care about my feeling, Ma. Like I ever care. All I care is you. All I ever worried is you.

Dear Ma,

Time flew when I realized vacation-at-the-hospital was become our routine. It’s not that I liked it that way. Who would like it, spending weekends (some other times weekdays) at hospital, while others are watching concert or sipping their coffee somewhere in town? But Ma, even though I had no priorities (yeah, like I was good in making list), I, fortunately, still had and hopefully will always have a heart. I chose to accompany you, or Ila, my niece/your first granddaughter. Minutes ago I checked Facebook, and one of my friend wrote, “Home is where the heart is”. See Ma, I was aware that this heart hasn’t dysfunction yet so I chose the right way to keep it on its track. Home. Not literally home, but you know, any place where your beloved ones are there. In our case, hospital.

Up there I’m sure you still remembered how HAPPY I am when I succeed to make Ila laugh at the hospital, even with that annoying needle on. We—yes me, you, and Kak Tata—asked her to do some silly faces using Photobooth’s effects. It worked quite well, huh? It felt priceless, Ma. Nothing compares! Not even if Jim Sturgess is down on his bended knees right in front of me now, proposing. Or if Quentin Tarantino send email and asked me to write some play for him. Nu-uh. But I was—we were—helpless, Ma. Ila left us on June 20th, 2009. Even more shocking, her mother left us earlier, January 19, 2009. No alarm and full of surprises. (Sorry Mr. Yorke, I have to rephrase it) The Almighty only gave us about five days to took care of her at the hospital. It made me think that 2009 is the worst year ever.

At that moment, Ma, I felt that I started losing you. Bit by bit. Day by day.

But don’t call me Sara if I can’t hide my tears so well, or played it cool. It didn’t take long for me to make “tough” become my middle name. Deasy “Tough” Elsara. How fuckin’ cool was that, huh? Err.. Sorry, Ma. I mean, how cool was that, huh? Well okay, I admit part of it was achieved by a self-proclaimed.

Dear Ma,

“What I’m trying to say isn’t really new. It’s that the thing that happened to me, remind me of you.”

Though it’s from Paul McCrane’s “Is It Okay to Call You Mine”, I’m still mean it. It’s like everything Id’ done, remind me of you. Every corner that I’d been, remind me of you.

It’s like I’ve been living under the shadow. Under my own sadness shadow. Nothing can replace the loss in my heart. No one can fill the hole in. Been a big gap so far. But like I said before, I’ve been playing it cool—way too cool perhaps. Even sometimes I forget that I don’t actually feel cool about it.

I hated it so much to see you suffer. I hated to know that the disease, has eaten—not only your cell—but also your spirit day by day. It hurts me more to witnessed you become helpless. What kind of a disease that could beat your infamous spirit-that-could-move-a-mountain? Later we all knew it was a huge one. So I felt with no choice: to let you go in peace is to make the disease disappear.

Dear Ma,

I’m glad that I can make it to be at your side, until your very last breath. But I still have this question on my head, about the tear you made on the last minute. I saw it, I wept it, I…was speechless. Was it tear of joy? Or was it tear of sadness? I’m truly hoping that it went for number one.

I held your hands, this time harder. I knew the time was coming. With me on your left side, dad on your right, you went in peace.

No more morning-knocks on my door.
No more high-tone voice every time I’ve been showering too long.
No more super heavenlicious home-cook meals.
No more I call someone a “Ma”.
No more you.

I cried like a baby. An annoying one. Real hard.

You told me to be tough.
You told me to take care of dad, brothers, and the family.
You told me to be OK.

The truth is, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to fulfill everything you wrote on your will.
The truth is, I was just acting it out to look cool in front of people.
The truth is, I can barely take care of myself.
The truth is, I’m sick and tired of hearing people saying “be tough, be patient” and stuff. I will gladly punch them in the face.

Dear Ma,

Edna Mode thought us human for not looking back, cos’ it will distract the now. I put that line one my Facebook profile since like, forever. But since like, forever, too, I’ve been doing the opposite.

I’ve become the biggest hypocrite.

Dear Ma,

To get over you is an impossible thing to do. It’s like to keep living, headless. But I am no cockroach, and I’m much luckier than the fella roaches. If he can keep living for, let say, 10 days headless, I survive the past six months. Not headless, but in sadness.

That’s an achievement, you would say?

Dear Ma,

Everybody loves pain, don’t they? That’s why love songs sell. That’s why Nick Hornby wrote A Long Way Down and High Fidelity. Later on, those books become best-seller everywhere. Even John Cussack played as the leading role on the so-called top 10 breakups list movie.

Pain is like NOS that speed up your car. If you know what I mean, Ma. Whenever the button has been pressed, it gives you extra power to move forward. You’d better get prepared, or else, you’re losing the control of your own life. It worked for some people, some just, were unlucky about it. So instead of reaching the finish line, they made it off the track, and BOOM! Crashed.

For now, Ma, I’d say I’m lucky enough for not pushing my body over the 20th floor. (I think I’m still in the A Long Way Down‘s post-reading euphoria)

Dear Ma,

The truth is, I can NEVER let you go. Like you will NEVER let go of me.

I was afraid to feel happy again, because I was so afraid that I would not remember you again. It sounds stupid, but it happens a lot to other people. The thought of being happy again equals to letting you go equals to put you out of my mind and my heart is completely wrong. Even the fifth grader can do better math than that, I admit it.

Here I am, once again. Dealing with my absurd feeling of losing. Like plane without gasoline. Like cell phone without credits. Like vessel without blood. Like I care about my feeling. Like I ever care. All I care is you. All I ever worried is you.

If you wanted me to be OK, so be it. I am, and will always try to be OK.

Rest in peace, Ma.

Much love, your daughter.

..


***

Way Down Here Without You – Superdrag

I’ve got a reason to be sad
and I’ve got a reason to feel like I’ve been had
but I would give most anything
to see you smile at me again

I don’t know (since you’ve gone)
I don’t know (since you’ve been gone)
what I’m supposed to do
way down here without you

I know you won’t be coming home
and it makes me feel so afraid of the unknown
but I would give most anything
to see you smile at me again

I don’t know (since you’ve gone)
I don’t know (since you’ve been gone)
what I’m supposed to do
way down here without you

you still mean a lot to me yeah
you still mean a lot to me
more than a memory to me yeah
more than a memory to me

Nikmati Selagi Lengkap

Mungkin begini yang ibu rasakan dulu. Ditinggal sendiri sama anak-anaknya setiap akhir minggu.  Bapak saya pun pernah meledek si mbak yang ikut-ikutan kelayapan di Sabtu malam. Katanya waktu itu kepada ibu, Nggak anak, nggak pembantu, semuanya pacaran! Kita jalan-jalan juga yuk, ma!” Saya yang waktu itu lagi pakai epatu dan bersiap mau pergi, cuma bisa terkekeh dan langsung cium tangan, lantas ngeloyor pergi. Meski dalam hati juga berkata, mama dan papa jalan-jalan saja, daripada bengong di rumah. Hehehe..

Malam ini, saya merasakan ditinggal sendiri. Bapak sedang kongkow di pos hansip bersama bapak-bapak lain, adik saya entah sedang kemana bersama teman-temannya sambil menunggu sahur, abang saya sudah kembali ke tempat kost, si mbak sudah pulang kampung tadi sore, dan ibu.. Ibu sudah bahagia di rumah abadinya. :)

Kesal? Tidak juga. Saya rasa ibu dan bapak dulu juga tidak kesal waktu kami tinggal kelayapan. Saya yakin mereka tahu bahwa hal ini akan terjadi. Salah satu konsekuensi menjadi orangtua. Suatu waktu, sang anak berhasil mengucap kata “ma-ma”, di lain waktu, ia pergi nonton dengan pacarnya.

Kalau dulu ibu saya menghabiskan malam dengan menonton televisi, sinetron tepatnya, maka apa yang saya lakukan di malam-yang-seharusnya-saya-memikirkan-akan-masak-apa-untuk-sahur-nanti-tapi-justru-asyik-nangkring-di-depan-komputer. Untuk yang satu itu, saya coba menerapkan konsep hidup spontan. Tadi sudah mengintip kulkas, persediaan bahan masakan untuk satu-dua minggu kedepan aman lah. Tinggal merayu mata dan badan agar satu niat dengan hati, supaya bisa bangun lebih awal untuk masak sahur.

Anyway, apa menu sahur kalian pagi nanti? Apapun itu, selamat menanti sahur bersama keluarga. Nikmati selagi lengkap. :)

Puasa Pertama

Ma, Sara kangen…

Ini puasa pertama tanpa mama. Apa rasanya ya nanti? Dari kemarin ngebayangin pas sahur nggak dengar suara mama ngebangunin, dan juga nggak lihat mama nyiapin dan makan sahur bareng kita. Sara sedih, ma. Tadi aja di bis curi-curi nangis. Nggak sampai netes sih, tapi lumayan berkaca-kaca. Ada untungnya juga bis penuh sesak, jadi nggak dilihat banyak orang.

Mama apa kabar di sana? Puasa bareng Bapak, Bang Aan, Kak Tata, dan Illa ya? Gelar karpet juga seperti biasa sahur di rumah nggak? Puasa kali ini mereka ada yang ‘bangunin’ dan ‘masakin’ sahur. Lauknya apa ma, ayam goreng kremes kesukaan kalian semua ya? :’)

Salam dan peluk cium ya untuk semua.

Sara kangen…

 

10 Agustus 2010
Pk. 22:37