Benny Arnas‘s short stories have been published in many national newspapers such as Kompas, Koran Tempo, and Horison magazine. He won a number of writing contests. His novel, Kayu Lapuk Membuat Kapal (Diva Press, 2021) won first place in a Novel Writing Contest on Prophet Muhammad in 2021. His other novel, Curriculum Vitae (Gramedia Pustaka Utama, 2017) won the Jakarta Arts Council Novel Writing Contest in 2016.
Since 2009, Arnas has served the Benny Institute, a cultural association in his hometown, by organizing writing classes, acting classes, English classes, ulu literacy classes, book fairs, film festivals, book clubs, etc.

Benny Arnas Instagram: bennyarnas

 

Yun Labu dan Sayak-betingkat

 

Di bantaran anak Sungai Musi yang rindang, konon di kawasan yang sekarang dikenal sebagai Musi Rawas Raya, terdapat dua kerajaan. Pagarbesi, kerajaan dengan bala tentara dan abdi yang banyak di bagian selatan dan Batangpuan, yang jauh lebih kecil, di utaranya. Para perempuan, dari dua kerajaan yang suaminya pulang tiga bulan sekali sebab bertugas di Kerajaan Pagarbesi, berkeyakinan bahwa wujud cinta yang berbalas adalah bila sayak-betingkat, wadah makanan dari batok kelapa yang ditumpuk, kembali dalam keadaan kosong. Tidak terkecuali bagi Yun Labu. Putri Kerajaan Batangpuan itu melepas kebangsawanannya setelah dikawini Napalong, pengembara tampan yang berasal dari Kerajaan Pagarbesi.

Pertautan itu tidak mendapat restu Ginde Ulak dan Putri Mayang, orangtuanya yang tidak lain adalah pemuncak Kerajaan Batangpuan. Selain harkat yang tidak sejenjang, cara Napalong mengawini Yun Labu juga membuat mereka merasa diremehkan.

Napalong menculik Yun Labu ⸺ meskipun Yun Labu mengatakan kalau dialah yang minta diculik ⸺ dan membawanya ke kepala puak di kampungnya untuk dikawinkan. Hampir saja, Napalong dibunuh oleh para prajurit Kerajaan Batangpuan, bila Yun Labu tidak mengancam akan terjun ke jurang berbatu di perbatasan Kerajaan Batangpuan.

“Aku tak sudi pengembara itu menjadi bagian dari kerajaan ini,” desis Ginde Ulak dengan gigi bergemeretakan.

“Pun aku.” Putri Mayang tidak mau kalah. “Kabar terakhir yang kudengar, Napalong akan mengajar kuntau di Kerajaan Pagarbesi,” nada suaranya getir.

Ginde Ulak mengangguk-angguk. Bara di matanya belum padam. “Apakah Napalong benar-benar menguasai ilmu bela diri itu hingga dia dijadikan pelatih?”

Putri Mayang tersenyum miring. “Bila Napalong menjadi abdi, Yun Labu akan jarang berjumpa dengannya.”

“Di mana Yun Labu tinggal sekarang?” Ginde Ulak mengerenyitkan dahi. “Kau sudah memerintahkan prajurit membuatkannya pesanggrahan?”

“Napalong sudah membuatkannya pondok,” Putri Mayang mengibaskan ujung selendang yang melingkari pinggangnya.

“Hanya pondok?” Gindek Ulak melotot.

“Lupakah Yun Labu sejak remaja gemar sekali mempermalukan keluarga dengan menjadi Umak Panggung di hajatan rakyat? Dia pasti tidak menggerutu.”

“Ini karena kau terlalu membebaskannya dalam bergaul!”

“Kupikir putri kita benar-benar belajar membuat syair dari Napalong,” jawab Putri Mayang dengan penuh rasa bersalah. “Bukankah bangsawan yang cakap bersyair akan dipandang lebih terhormat dari yang lain?”

“Apa tidak sampai di telingamu kalau pemuda itu justru tak bisa menulis dan membaca huruf Ulu?”

Putri Mayang menatap tajam suaminya. Bagaimana mungkin seseorang disebut pujangga tanpa kecakapan menulis aksara udik. “Tentu saja aku tahu, Kak, tapi orang-orang tua dan peramal justru mengatakan itulah yang membedakan Napalong dengan penyair lain. Belum tersebut sepak terjangnya yang kerap menumpas para pembuat onar!”

“Lalu mengapa kau membiarkan saja Yun Labu bergaul dengan Nenek Bengkuang, bekas juru masak Kerajaan Pagarbesi?” gerutu Ginde Ulak.

“Keinginan Yun Labu untuk berurusan dengan kuali, periuk, tungku, dan rempah, tidak kuasa dicegah siapa pun. Kakak pasti tahu itu. Lagi pula, aku tidak pernah menyangka kalau Yun Labu diam-diam masih mengunjungi Nenek Bengkuang dan memaksa perempuan tua itu mengajarinya memasak,” Putri Mayang membela diri. “Dari dulu Yun Labu memang tidak peduli dengan gelar putri rajanya!” gerutu perempuan paruh baya itu seraya mendengus. “Oh ya, pondok tempat tinggalnya di selatan.”

“Maksudmu kampung yang belum kita namai itu?” sambar Ginde Ulak.

Putri Mayang mengangguk. “Batangpuan dan Pagarbesi ‘kan belum bersepakat siapa yang memiliki hutan di dekat perbatasan itu? Kakak lupakah?”

Ginde Ulak terdiam.

“Oh ya, kabarnya Wak Juai sudah sakit-sakitan.” Putri Mayang tersenyum licik.

“Kenapa kau malah membicarakan abdi Pagarbesi itu?” sahut Ginde Ulak, jengkel. “Lebih baik kausiapkan penyambutan putra kita yang akan tiba dari Tiongkok beberapa hari lagi. Apa kau tidak penasaran melihat Tanjung Samin setelah sepuluh tahun berpisah?”

***

Kehadiran Napalong membuat Yun Labu tidak lagi menjadikan Nenek Bengkuang sebagai satu-satunya pencecap masakannya sebelum disajikan. Walaupun Napalong tidak pandai memasak, tetap penting bagi Yun Labu untuk memastikan kalau apa-apa yang diraciknya akan disukai pemuda yang paling dia cintai itu.

Napalong dan Nenek Bengkuang tidak pernah berselisih paham tentang rasa masakan yang dihidangkan. Bila sambal terlalu pedas Nenek Bengkuang akan mengatakan kalau itu disebabkan beberapa potong nanas yang baru dia makan. Bila sayur bening terasa hambar, Napalong akan mengatakan dia terlalu banyak menambahkan gula batu pada tehnya hari itu.

Setelah sepekan menghabiskan bulan madu di pondok, Napalong meminta kesediaan Nenek Bengkuang untuk tinggal bersama istrinya. “Nenek dan istriku sudah sangat dekat, tinggal berdua akan membuat saling menjaga.” rayu Napalong.

Jarak antara tempat tinggal Yun Labu dan Kerajaan Pagarbesi tidaklah terlalu jauh, apalagi ditempuh dengan berkuda. Namun, Yun Labu dan Napalong paham benar bagaimana peraturan kerajaan bagi abdi baru. Pada tahun pertama pengabdian, mereka hanya disilakan pulang menemui keluarga sekali dalam tiga bulan. Dan adalah tabiat para istri untuk mengirimi suami mereka makan siang melalui kangantat. Petugas pengantaran barang kerajaan itu akan datang pada waktu Duha dengan kereta yang ditarik dua kuda.

“Berjanjilah,” kata Napalong kala temaram senja. Sedepa dari pondok mereka, di bawah kerimbunan pohon enau, dia masih bisa menangkap binar kedua mata istrinya. “Sebagai tanda kesetiaan, Adik hanya akan memasak masakan-masakan yang pernah kumakan saja.”

Yun Labu tertawa kecil sebelum kemudian membalas, “Tapi Kakak belum pernah kumasakkan gulai tempoyak ikan baung, sambal pie, nawan nangu kuah santan, atau gulai ampai dengan cendawan lebek, yang rasanya pasti bikin ketagihan.”

Napalong tersenyum lebar. “Yang sudah pernah kau masak, lebih dari cukup, Dik.”

Melambung nian perasaan Yun Labu.

“Tapi …,” Napalong menatap Yun Labu, “Benarkah kau akan setia, Dik?”

“Lha?” Yun Labu mengangkat alisnya. “Kenapa sekarang malah engkau yang meragukanku, Kak? Tergantung perasaanmu padaku, Kak.” Meskipun berusaha tegar, Yun Labu gagal menyembunyikan kegalauannya. “Aku akan jadi seperti apa yang kaupikirkan,” tangisnya pecah.

Napalong menyeka air mata istrinya. “Biar adil,” dia merangkulnya, erat. “Adik pun harus memberikan syarat kesetiaan kepada Kakak.”

Yun Labu terdiam sebelum merenggangkan pelukan dan menatap wajah Napalong dengan penuh kelembutan. “Bila sayak-betingkat-ku kembali dalam keadaan kosong, artinya kau masih menyambut kerinduanku. Tapi bila ada makanan tersisa, berarti Kakaklah sudah tak setia.”

Napalong mengangguk.

***

Dua bulanan kemudian, Kerajaan Pagarbesi berduka. Wak Juai, kangantat sepuh, yang telah mengabdi kepada Pagarbesi sejak masih remaja, berpulang.

Sore harinya, seorang pemuda yang mengaku bernama Rimau menghadap raja di pelataran singgasananya. Dia menyatakan kesanggupannya untuk menggantikan Wak Juai. Untuk meyakinkan pihak kerajaan, dia memamerkan kemampuannya meringankan tubuh sehingga bisa mendatangi tempat yang jauh dalam waktu singkat dengan menunggangi pelepah kelapa.

Raja, permaisuri, dan segenap petinggi Kerajaan Pagarbesi pun takjub dengan kebulatan tekad pemuda yang bersimpuh di hadapan mereka itu. “Baiklah,” Raja merengangkan sandaran bahunya dari singgasana, “Tutupi wajahmu dengan kain kecuali sepasang matamu ketika menjalankan tugas!” Walaupun tidak diungkapkan, Raja Pagarbesi menyimpan kekhawatiran. Ketampanan wajah Rimau mungkin saja menggoda perempuan-perempuan muda yang dengan setia menyiapkan sayak-betingkat untuk suami mereka.

Rimau menyanggupinya.

***

Meskipun sudah memasuki pekan kedua dari bulan ketiga tugasnya di Kerajaan Pagarbesi, Napalong masih tidak bisa mengajar para prajurit dengan pikiran yang jernih. Sama seperti hari dan pekan sebelumnya, dia tidak sabar menunggu matahari tepat berada di atas kepala, waktu kangantat datang dengan sayak-betingkat kiriman Yun Labu. Ketika pengganti Wak Juai datang, Napalong bertanya tentang keadaan istrinya.

Rimau membungkuk sambil berkata, “Maaf, Kisanak, selain hamba adalah kangantat baru, hamba pun tidak akan mencari tahu tentang para pengirim dan penerima sayak-betingkat.”

Siang itu, Napolong terkejut menemukan makanan yang lain dari yang diharapkan. Sayak-betingkat yang dia terima berisi nasi dan segenggam ikan seluang goreng di sayak paling bawah, gulai tempoyak ikan baung di atasnya, sambal cong di tingkat berikutnya, dan beberapa pucuk kemangi dan terong ungu di sayak paling atas — masakan yang belum pernah Yun Labu sajikan untuknya dalam masa bulan madu mereka. Meskipun begitu, dia memaksakan diri untuk menghabiskan isi sayak-betingkat itu. Dia tidak ingin kehilangan Yun Labu.

***

Hingga hari kesebelas dari bulan ketiga, setelah kepergian Napalong, Yun Labu tidak bisa lagi menyembunyikan kebahagiaannya karena sayak-betingkat yang dia kirimkan selalu kembali dalam keadaan kosong. Dengan penuh debar, perempuan itu pun menuliskan sajak kerinduannya. Wahai Kakak Sayang, sayang seorang …, Yun Labu menyenyumi larik pertama yang dia tulis, lalu menerawang.

Yun Labu tersenyum menulis larik-larik kerinduan seolah-olah dia sendiri tidak mampu menghentikan tangannya menggoreskan dawat. Diam-diam dia telah menghabiskan dua gulungan daun nipah.

Di hari kedua belas, Yun Labu membuka sayak-betingkat dengan tidak sabaran. Benar saja, yang paling dia tunggu pun ada di sana.

          Ai Adik nun di sana.

Yun Labu memejamkan mata seraya menempelkan daun nipah itu ke dadanya. Ah, Kakak, siapakah kiranya prajurit yang kaumintakan bantuan untuk menuliskan kata-kata indah yang kaututurkan? Yun Labu tersenyum sebelum melanjutkan membaca.

           Tentulah kehormatan tak tepermanai bagi hamba

          yang telah disilakan menikmati hidangan ketulusan

Yun Labu menerawang dengan mata berbinar. Membayangkan sang suami menyebut diri sendiri sebagai hamba dan makan siang kirimannya sebagai hidangan ketulusan membuat perasaan Yun Labu melayang di antara awan-gemawan ketersanjungan.

Yun Labu menyimpan surat itu diam-diam. Dia tidak ingin membagi rasa bahagia itu, kepada Nenek Bengkuang sekalipun. Yang membuatnya makin terharu adalah bahwa laki-laki berjiwa ksatria seperti suaminya telah bersusah payah menurunkan kejemawaannya di hadapan seseorang yang dia mintai bantuan untuk menuliskan syair untuknya.

Yun Labu memegang surat itu erat-erat. Menggulungnya lamat-lamat. Menciumnya dengan penuh penghayatan, seakan-akan bau badan suaminya melekat di daun nipah itu. Belum pernah dia sebahagia ini. Yun Labu pun mengingat-ingat. Kurang dari tiga pekan lagi suaminya akan kembali. Dia membalas:

          Aku tahu Kakak masih bersetia di sana.

          Habiskanlah sajianku. Tunaikanlah amanahmu.

          Adik tunggu dengan hati yang luluh.

Hari keempat belas.

           Di manakah kiranya kau berada, Dik?

          Jangan bermain-main. Cinta telah membuat Kakak buta.

          Pada tempat. Juga tanda-tanda.

Yun Labu tahu apa yang harus dia tulis.

           Tak usah tergesa-gesa, Kak.

          Orang-orang sabar senantiasa diganjar keajaiban.

Hari kelima belas.

           Jangan memanjangkan tali kelambu, Dik.

          Akan Kakak jelang dikau. Ke nirwana. Pun lembah kegelapan.

Kebahagiaan Yun Labu alangkah ruahnya:

          Adik tidak ke mana-mana, Kak.

          Masih setia merindu — di hatimu yang tiba-tiba biru.

Sebagaimana biasa, Yun Labu pun menggulung daun nipah itu lalu menyelipkannya di antara lalapan bunga kunyit di sayak teratas.

Hari keenam belas.

Petang itu, selain mengantar sayak-betingkat yang kosong ke pondok Yun Labu, Rimau juga menyampaikan sebuah amanah. “Maaf Puan, besok aku takkan menjemput sayak-betingkat sebab suamimu ingin makan siang di pondok kalian.”

“Maksudmu apa, wahai Kangantat? Bukankah dia harus tinggal dua pekan lagi di Kerajaan Pagarbesi? Aku minta tolong kepadamu untuk mengingatkannya tentang ini kepadanya.”
Rimau bergeming. Sesungguhnya, sejak kali pertama menggantikan Wak Juai aku menantikan pertemuan kalian besok. Dia kembali ke kereta kudanya dan hilang di balik pepohonan.

“Bila memang benar apa yang dikatakan kangantat itu, kau tak perlu khawatir, Yun,” Nenek Bengkuang yang sedari tadi menyapu di belakang pondok menghampiri dan mencoba menenangkan. “Bisa saja kangantat itu tak tega melihat Napalong yang selalu memikirkanmu.”

“Tapi, Nek,” Yun Labu mencoba menyanggah, “Bukankah setelah kami kawin, Kakak sudah berjanji untuk berhenti mengembara? Tidak mudah menjadi abdi kerajaan. Kenapa Kakak justru hendak menyia-nyiakan kesempatan ini. Dua pekan itu tidak lama bila dia mau bersabar dan benar-benar memikirkan kehidupan kami.”

Nenek Bengkuang mengelus rambut Yun Labu. “Kudengar kangantat itu bukan orang sembarangan. Dia bisa menjangkau suatu tempat dengan perantara daun atau ranting atau pelepah. Siapa tahu dengan kesaktian yang dimilikinya dia akan mengantar Napalong untuk makan siang lalu mengantarnya ke kerajaan sesudahnya. Atau ….”

“Oh, benarkah itu, Nek?” potong Yun Labu. Lalu mengiba, seolah-olah langit mampu mendengar keresahannya, “Semoga dia juga tak lupa mengingatkan suamiku untuk bersabar.”

***

Sejak pagi Yun Labu memasak semua masakan yang pernah dia buat untuk Napalong. Seolah tahu diri, Nenek Bengkuang pun sigap membersihkan rumah dan menebas rumpun ilalang dan semak sikaduduk di sekitar pondok. Jelang matahari menudungi bumi dengan sempurna, Yun Labu telah mengangkat nasi dari periuk dan membubuhkannya ke dalam bakul daun pandan. Di atas meja kayu setinggi dua jengkal, nasi, lauk, sayur, sambal, dan ayam kampung panggang telah tersaji.

“Yun, perkiraan kita benar!” teriak Nenek Bengkuang dari luar. Suaranya bergetar.

“Kangantat itu benar-benar mengantar Kakak?” sahut Yun Labu juga dengan berteriak. Dia masih sibuk menata-nata meja makan.

“Kangantat itu terbang di atas pelepah nira!” mata Nenek Bengkuang membelalak, tangan kanannya menunjuk-nunjuk langit.

“Bersama Kak Napalong, ‘kan?” Yun Labu merapikan rambutnya. Wajahnya semringah.

“Bersama laki-laki tak dikenal,” Nenek Bengkuang buru-buru menuju Yun Labu, menyeret lengannya ke muka pintu.

Di luar, Yun Labu termangu sejenak sebelum berteriak, “Siapa yang kau bawa ini, Kangantat?” Dia menunjuk laki-laki yang menyunggingkan senyum. Ditaksirnya lelaki itu berusia sepuluh tahun lebih tua dari Napalong.

“Bukankah dia suamimu?” Rimau balik bertanya.

“Kau jangan membuat api di sini, Tuan!” Nenek Bengkuang angkat bicara. “Dia cucuku yang setia.”

“Tapi, bukankah dialah laki-laki yang selalu cucumu kirimi sayak-betingkat itu?” Lagi, Rimau balik bertanya.

“Apakah mendiang Wak Juai tidak mewasiatkan senarai penerima sayak-betingkat untuk penerusnya?” Dada Nenek Bengkuang megap-megap.

“Tentu aku menerimanya, Puan.”

“Lalu mengapa kau mengantar sayak-betingkat-ku kepadanya?” Telunjuk Yun Labu mengarah pada laki-laki yang dibawa Rimau. Dia benar-benar geram. Bukan hanya membayangkan semua masakannya dihabiskan oleh orang tidak dikenal, tapi juga kata-kata dalam surat yang selama ini begitu indah kini menjadi begitu menjijikkan.

“Puan,” ujar Rimau, nada suaranya tegang. “Aku mengantarkan ratusan sayak-betingkat tanpa peduli jati diri penerima — termasuk usia, asal, dan kegemaran mereka.”

“Mengapa kau tak mau tahu?” tanya Nenek Bengkuang, cepat.

“Itu cara terbaik untuk menguji ketangkasan dan ketelitianku.

“Dan kau telah gagal!” sambar Yun Labu.

“Walaupun belum lama mengambil alih pekerjaan Wak Juai, aku belum pernah membuat kekeliruan. Sayak-betingkat-ku selalu sampai di tangan yang tepat yang sebagian besarnya adalah laki-laki, termasuk mereka yang baru menikah. Ada juga, mereka yang dicintai sanak kerabatnya dan orang-orang murah hati yang tak ingin diketahui siapa dirinya. Sebagian lainnya adalah para duda .…”

“Dan aku duda,” sebuah suara tiba-tiba memotong.

Rimau, Yun Labu, dan Nenek Bengkuang, serta merta menoleh ke arah laki-laki yang sedari tadi diam.

“Nah kau!” Yun Labu kembali menunjuk-nunjuk duda itu, “Mengapa kau menghabiskan makan siang yang bukan hakmu. Mengapa kau malah merayuku seolah-olah kau adalah suamiku! Kau … kau … kau ….” tangis Yun Labu pecah.

Duda itu terdiam sejenak sebelum membentang dalih. “Apakah salah kalau aku juga beroleh keberuntungan sebagaimana Wak Dullah, Subir, atau Tuan Halipan, yang dikirimi sayak-betingkat oleh orang-orang yang tidak mereka kenal. Bahkan Subir akhirnya menikah dengan janda yang mengiriminya makan siang. Apakah salah bila aku juga mengharap? Apakah salah bila aku menaruh harapan pada seorang dermawan yang mengirimiku sayak-betingkat? Gadis atau janda sungguh aku tak peduli!”

“Aku bukan keduanya,” Yun Labu membelalak. “Aku seorang perempuan bersuami.”

“Benar kau bukan suaminya?” potong Rimau seraya menoleh ke duda itu. Kain yang melilit wajah menyembunyikan keterkejutannya.

Duda itu terkesiap mendapati pertanyaan Rimau. Dia terburu-buru mengangguk.

“Jawab saja!” desak Rimau.

“Adakah abdi lain di Kerajaan Pagarbesi yang mahir bersyair selain seorang juru tulis kerajaan sepertiku?” suara sang duda bergetar.

“Napalong!” sahut Yun Labu cepat. “Suamiku yang tak lain tak bukan adalah pelatih kuntau di Pagarbesi. Kau pasti kenal.”

Juru tulis kerajaan itu meneguk liur. Bagaimanapun, nama itu sangat masyhur di kerajaan.

Yun Labu mendengus tetapi sebelum sempat menumpahkan kemarahannya, kangantat bersuara.

“Maafkan saya, Puan dan Nenek,” Rimau membungkuk. “Apa yang harus aku lakukan untuk menebus kesalahan ini?”

“Kau antar Yun Labu menemui suaminya besok agar masalah mereka beres!” ketus Nenek Bengkuang sebelum mengajak Yun Labu masuk dan menutup pintu pondok dengan serampangan.

***

Setelah berhari-hari berjalan kaki melintasi belasan sungai dan rimba, Napalong tiba di pondok mereka dengan kerinduan yang hampir meletus di dadanya. Sepelemparan batu dari pondoknya, dia melihat Yun Labu dan neneknya sedang bercakap-cakap dengan kangantat dan laki-laki yang tidak dia kenali. Sebagai seorang yang memegang syarat, janji, dan tanda-tanda, Napalong berikhtisar kalau dia telah keliru memilih perempuan untuk dititipi kepercayaan. Di matanya, Yun Labu telah mengabaikan kesepakatan sejak mengiriminya sayak-betingkat berisi masakan-masakan yang tidak pernah dia cicipi. Dia benar-benar kesal, bagaimana Yun Labu begitu tega mempermainkan perasaannya.

***

Sesampai di perguruan Pagarbesi, begitu mengetahui kalau Napalong sudah menghilang sekitar sepekan Yun Labu mati-matian menyembunyikan tangis yang meledak dalam mata dan dada. Peraturan melarang siapa pun meneteskan air mata di lingkungan kerajaan, sebab itu pertanda raja belum mampu menyejahterakan para abdi dan rakyatnya.

Ingin sekali Rimau memeluk Yun Labu. Ingin sekali dia berkata bahwa, kalau sang suami memang mencintainya, dia akan kembali. Namun … Rimau tidak ingin mengacaukan segalanya.

***

Tanjung Samin dengan bangga menunjukkan peti kecil yang bertuliskan Wasiat Wak Juai dalam huruf Ulu yang terukir indah. Dia telah diterima menggantikan Wak Juai di Kerajaan Pagarbesi sebagai kangantat, pekerjaan yang dilamar olehnya atas perintah orangtuanya.

“Tak percuma kau kami kirim ke Tiongkok untuk belajar siasat dan ilmu kesaktian, wahai putraku” ujar Putri Mayang seraya memeriksa tumpukan bilah-bilah gelumpai yang terdapat dalam peti. Di balik singgasananya, Putri Mayang membentang pesan terakhir Wak Juai. Dia terburu-buru menukar-letak dua nama penerima sayak-betingkat sebelum memasukkannya lagi ke dalam peti. “Sudah Ibu periksa nama-nama para pengirim dan penerima. Lakukanlah tugasmu. Kami yakin kau akan menunaikannya dengan baik,” ujarnya seraya memberikan peti itu kepada putra sulungnya.

“Tidak seperti adikmu, kau benar-benar anak yang membanggakan!” seru Ginde Ulak, jemawa. “Kau tidak mengaku bernama Tanjung Samin, bukan?”

“Aku memperkenalkan diri sebagai Rimau,” jawab Tanjung Samin, tegas dan bangga.

“Juga tidak mengaku berdarah Batangpuan.”

Ginde Ulak mengangguk-angguk puas. “Selain pesan ibumu agar kau mengabaikan jati diri penerima sayak-betingkat, kau juga harus memastikan kalau Yun Labu dalam keadaan baik-baik saja, apalagi memenuhi segala kebutuhannya. Tentu bukan untuk mengajaknya pulang. Bagaimanapun adikmu telah membangkang dan membuat malu keluarga dan kerajaan!”

“Sampai kapan dia dihukum, Yah?” suara Tanjung Samin melemah. Matanya sendu serta-merta.

Ginde Ulak membuang muka.

***

Nasib membuat keberhasilan Putri Mayang memisahkan Yun Labu dan Napalong dibayar setimpal. Tanjung Samin merasa telah menjadi orang kelaparan yang disajikan buah simalakama. Dan dia telah memilih untuk menyakiti adik yang sangat dia sayangi. Menyesal telah menyebabkan sang adik larut dalam penderitaan, Tanjung Samin kembali ke Tiongkok tanpa pamit kepada Ginde Ulak dan Putri Mayang.

***

Puluhan tahun kemudian, Tanjung Samin pulang untuk menggantikan Ginde Ulak di singgasana Kerajaan Batangpuan.

Dia memang berhasil membujuk Yun Labu kembali ke kerajaan. Namun, dia tidak kuasa menghentikan sang adik untuk setiap hari menanak nasi dan memasak gulai di dapur istana. Kepada orang-orang yang bertanya tentang perilaku sang adik, tanpa beban Tanjung Samin menjawab, “Memasak bukan hanya membuat kunyahan yang memenuhkan perut, tapi juga memuaskan kerinduan seseorang. Suatu hari, Napalong, sebagaimana orang-orang yang mendengar kisah ini, akan takjub dengan kesetiaan adikku.”

*****

 

 

In 2005, Umar Thamrin received a Fulbright grant and a Catherine and William L. Magistretti Graduate Fellowship for his graduate studies in the United States. He completed his Ph.D. in Southeast Asian Studies with the designated emphasis in Critical Theory at the University of California, Berkeley, in 2016. Before returning to Indonesia in 2017, he received a one-year appointment as a research and teaching fellow at the University of Oregon.

Back in his home country, Umar became disturbed by several social conditions he encountered there, and is saddened that the common people have remained marginalized while society ignores the lessons of its history. These conditions have prompted him to think, to remember, and to write. He is currently teaching linguistics at Alauddin State Islamic University.

Umar Thamrin: umar2x.umar@gmail.com

 

Love in a Coconut Shell

 

On the bank of a shady tributary of the Musi River, on the island of Sumatra, now known as Musi Rawas Raya, there once were two kingdoms — Pagarbesi and Batangpuan. Pagarbesi, which had a substantial army and was well populated, was located in the southern part ⸺ with Batangpuan, which was a much smaller kingdom, just north of it. The men enlisted in the Pagarbesi kingdom army were granted home leave only once every three months during their first year of service. Their wives sent their lunch in a sayak-betingkat — home-cooked food placed in containers of stacked coconut shells. The women believed their husbands expressed requited love when the shells returned empty.

Yun Labu, the princess of the Batangpuan kingdom, was no exception. She had forfeited her nobility by marrying Napalong, a handsome traveler from the Pagarbesi kingdom.

Yun Labu’s parents, the king and queen of the Batangpuan kingdom, did not approve of the marriage. Their daughter had married a commoner and they had been humiliated by the way the couple had married.

Napalong had kidnapped Yun Labu — although Yun Labu claimed it was she who had asked to be kidnapped — and taken her to the chief of his village to marry them. Soldiers of the Batangpuan kingdom would have killed Napalong if Yun Labu had not threatened to kill herself by jumping into a rocky ravine near the border of Batangpuan.

“I don’t want that wanderer to be a part of this kingdom,” hissed the Batangpuan king, Ginde Ulak.

“Neither do I,” Queen Putri Mayang replied, no less fiercely. “The last I heard, Napalong plans to teach martial arts to the soldier recruits in the Pagarbesi kingdom.”
Ginde Ulak nodded. His eyes glowed with anger. “Has Napalong really mastered martial arts so well that he is qualified to teach it?”

“If Napalong becomes a teacher in martial arts at the Pagarbesi court, Yun Labu will rarely see him.” Putri Mayang flicked the end of the shawl wrapped around her waist.

“Where does Yun Labu live now?” Ginde Ulak asked, frowning. “You ordered soldiers to build a house for her, didn’t you?”

“Napalong built her a hut,” Putri Mayang smirked.

Ginde Ulak’s eyes widened. “Just a hut?” he asked furiously.

“Oh, I’m sure she didn’t complain. You forget that when she was a teenager, Yun Labu would embarrass us by hosting commoners’ parties.”

“This happened because you gave our daughter too much freedom.”

“I honestly thought our daughter was learning how to write poetry from Napalong,” Putri Mayang said remorsefully. “Wouldn’t a noble who is good at writing poetry be held in higher esteem?”

Ginde Ulak snorted. “Bah. That young man can’t even write and read Ulu letters.”

Putri Mayang glared at her husband. How was it possible that someone was called a poet without being able to write the traditional script of the upstream region? She said, “Of course I know that, dear. However, according to the elders and fortune tellers, that’s exactly what sets Napalong apart from other poets — not to mention the way he deals with troublemakers!”

“And why did you allow Yun Labu to befriend Grandma Bengkuang, the former cook of the Pagarbesi kingdom?” grumbled Ginde Ulak.

“My dear, you know that no one can keep Yun Labu away from pots, pans, stoves, and spices. Still, I never dreamed that Yun Labu would secretly visit Grandma Bengkuang and compel the old woman to teach her how to cook! Yun Labu never cared about being a princess! And to answer your question, she lives in the south.”

“In the village we haven’t named yet?”

Putri Mayang nodded. “Well, remember, Batangpuan and Pagarbesi haven’t agreed on who owns the forest near the border.”

Ginde Ulak fell silent.

“I heard that Wak Juai is sick.” Putri Mayang smiled slyly.

“Why are you bringing up gossip about the Pagarbesi messenger?” Ginde Ulak snapped.

“You should instead be preparing to welcome our son. He’s arriving from China in just a few days. Aren’t you eager to see Tanjung Samin after ten long years?”

***

After Napalong and Yun Labu married, Grandma Bengkuang was not the only one who tasted Yun Labu’s cooking before it was served. Napalong was not a good cook, but it was still important to Yun Labu that the young husband she loved liked her cooking.

Grandma Bengkuang and Napalong never disagreed about how Yun Labu’s dishes tasted. If the chili sauce tasted too strong, Grandma Bengkuang blamed the pieces of pineapple she had just eaten. If the spinach soup tasted too bland, Napalong blamed the extra sugar he had added to the tea he just drank.

After spending a week of their honeymoon in their cottage, Napalong asked Grandma Bengkuang if she would be willing to stay with his wife when he left to teach martial arts to the soldier recruits at the Pagarbesi court. “You and my wife have become very close,” Napalong pointed out. “If you two live together, you can take care of each other.”

The couple’s cottage was not too far from the Pagarbesi kingdom, especially on horseback. But Yun Labu and Napalong knew the royal rules for first-year enlisted service members. Home leave was only granted once every three months. It was customary that wives sent their husbands homemade lunches through a kangantat. The royal messenger, who drove a two-horse carriage, arrived by mid-morning every day to pick up the sayak-betingkat lunches the women had packed into coconut shells for their husbands.

One late afternoon, shortly before reporting to the Pagarbesi court, Napalong stood with Yun Labu under a palm tree near their cottage. In the fading twilight, he could still catch the gleam of love in his wife’s eyes. “Promise me,” he said, “that as a token of your loyalty, you will only send me dishes that I know are yours — dishes you have already prepared for me.”

Yun Labu chuckled. “But dear, I haven’t yet cooked you a red-tailed catfish in fermented-durian curry; a chili sauce with shrimp paste; gill mushroom coconut milk soup; or oyster mushrooms in a light curry — dishes that surely will whet your appetite.”

Napalong grinned. “Honey, the dishes you’ve already prepared for me are more than enough.”

Yun Labu flushed with pleasure.

“But …” Napalong held Yun Labu’s eyes, “will you be loyal to me, honey?”

“What?” Yun Labu raised her eyebrows. “You doubt me? My behavior will depend on your feelings toward me.” Yun Labu tried to appear strong but could not hide her anxiety. She burst into tears. “I’ll be whatever you believe me to be!”

Napalong wiped away his wife’s tears and held her tightly. “To be fair,” he said, “you should ask for a token of my loyalty.”

Yun Labu paused then stepped back from Napalong’s embrace. She looked at him tenderly. “If my sayak-betingkat comes back empty, it means you love me and are loyal to me. But if my sayak-betingkat comes back with food left in it, it means that you are no longer loyal.”

***

Two months later, the Pagarbesi kingdom mourned. Wak Juai, the old kangantat who had served Pagarbesi as its messenger since he was a teenager, had passed away.

That afternoon, a young man came to the Pagarbesi court and introduced himself as Rimau. He said that he was willing to replace Wak Juai as the royal court’s messenger. To convince the king, the queen, and the courtiers, he demonstrated his ability to lighten his body so that he could go to distant places in a short time by riding a coconut frond.

Everyone was amazed by the self-confidence of the young man who stood before them.
The king leaned forward. “Very well,” the king said and continued, “cover your face with a full mask when carrying out your duties.” The king was concerned that the young wives who faithfully prepared a sayak-betingkat for their husbands might be seduced by Rimau’s handsome looks.

Rimau bowed.

***

Even though it was now the second week of his third month of duty in the Pagarbesi kingdom, Napalong still had trouble focusing on teaching martial arts to the soldiers. Just like the previous days and weeks, he waited impatiently for the sun to reach that part in the sky when the kangantat came with Yun Labu’s sayak-betingkat.

On Rimau’s first day of delivering sayak-betingkat, Napalong eagerly asked Wak Juai’s successor how his wife was doing.

“Pardon me, sir,” Rimau bowed. “Aside from being a new kangantat, I have no intention of meddling in the private affairs between senders and receivers of the sayak-betingkats.”

That day, Napalong was surprised to find dishes he did not expect in the stack of coconut shells that contained his lunch. The bottom shell contained rice and a handful of fried anchovies; the middle shell held a fermented-durian curry and a tomato chili sauce. The top shell held a few sweet basil leaves and a purple eggplant. Yun Labu had never served him any of those dishes during their honeymoon. Still, he forced himself to eat all of it so he could return an empty sayak-betingkat. He did not want to lose Yun Labu.

***

On the eleventh day of the third month after Napalong had reported to the Pagarbesi court, Yun Labu pulsed with joy. Her sayak-betingkat always returned empty. Unable to contain her happiness, she started writing a love poem to express her longing.

          O my dear, my only love …

Yun Labu smiled at the first line she’d written, then pondered. As if she could not stop her own hand from moving, she finished two scrolls of nipah palm leaves, before she knew it.

On the twelfth day, Yun Labu impatiently opened the returned sayak-betingkat. As she had hoped, what she had been waiting for the most was there.

          My darling, you are far away …

Yun Labu closed her eyes as she pressed the nipah leaf to her chest. Oh, my dear husband, who was the soldier you asked to help write down the beautiful words you spoke? Yun Labu smiled before she continued to read.

          Certainly, the honor is immeasurable for this servant

          who has been asked to enjoy your token of sincerity.

Yun Labu’s eyes sparkled as she mused. Her husband called himself a servant and the lunches she sent were a token of sincerity. The flattery sent her floating in the clouds.

Yun Labu kept the poem a secret. She did not want to share her happiness with anyone ⸺ not even with Grandma Bengkuang. What moved her even more was that a man with a chivalrous spirit like her husband had humbled himself by asking someone to help write the poem for him.

For a while, Yun Labu held the letter tightly. Then she slowly rolled it up and kissed it passionately as if her husband’s scent lingered on the leaf. Never before had she been this happy.

Yun Labu mused, My husband will come back in less than three weeks. She took up her pen and wrote:

          I know you are still faithful

          Enjoy my dishes — fulfill your duty

          Your wife will always await you with a yearning heart.

Fourteenth day. Yun Labu opened the empty coconut shell and read:

          Where are you now, my love?

          Don’t deceive me

          Love has made me blind

          Blind to my surroundings

          Blind to my circumstances.

Yun Labu knew what she had to write.

          No need to be in a hurry

          Patience is always blessed with a miracle.

The fifteenth day.

          Don’t tease me, sweetheart

          I will take you

          To nirvana as well as the valley of unconsciousness.

Yun Labu overcome with desire, wrote,

          I’m not going anywhere, my love

          I’m still faithfully longing

          For your heart that has suddenly turned blue.

As usual, Yun Labu rolled up the palm leaf and tucked it between the turmeric flowers in the top coconut shell of that day’s sayak-betingkat.

On the evening of the sixteenth day, Rimau arrived with the empty sayak-betingkat.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said to Yun Labu. “Tomorrow I won’t pick up your sayak-betingkat, because your husband says he wants to have lunch at home.”

“What do you mean, Kangantat?” Yun Labu was alarmed. “Shouldn’t he stay in the Pagarbesi kingdom for another two weeks? Please remind him of this.”

Rimau did not respond. Actually, he thought, since the first time I replaced Wak Juai, I’ve been looking forward to witnessing the two of you reuniting with each other. Rimau returned to his horse-drawn carriage and disappeared between the trees.

“If it’s true what the kangantat said, you don’t need to worry, Yun,” said Grandma Bengkuang, who had been sweeping behind the hut. She joined Yun Labu and tried to calm her. “Perhaps the kangantat can’t bear to see Napalong pining for you.”

“But, Grandma,” Yun Labu argued, “didn’t my husband promise to settle down after we were married? It’s not easy to become a courtier. Why would he waste this opportunity? Two weeks will go by fast if he is patient and takes our future into serious consideration.”

Grandma Bengkuang stroked Yun Labu’s hair. “I heard that the kangantat is not just anyone. He can go anywhere by riding on a leaf, a branch, or a palm frond. Who knows, with his supernatural power, he might fly Napalong here to have lunch with you and then fly him back to the palace undetected. Or —”

“Oh, is that true, Grandma?” Yun Labu interrupted. And as if heaven could hear her anxiety, she exclaimed, “Hopefully, the kangantat also won’t forget to remind my husband to be patient.”

***

Since early morning the next day, Yun Labu had been cooking all the dishes she had ever prepared for Napalong.

Grandma Bengkuang had cleaned the cottage and cut down the weeds and bushes around it. Before midday, Yun Labu scooped the rice from the pot and moved it into a pandan leaf basket. She arranged the rice and side dishes ⸺ vegetables, chili sauce, and grilled home-raised chicken ⸺ on a short wooden table.

“Yun, we were right!” Grandma Bengkuang shouted from outside.

Yun Labu was still arranging dishes on the dining table. “What? Is the kangantat really bringing my husband?”

“The kangantat is flying on a palm frond!” Grandma Bengkuang shouted in a trembling voice. Gasping, she pointed at the sky.

“Napalong, my husband, is with him, right?” Yun Labu smoothed her hair, smiling.

“He is with a stranger!” Grandmother Bengkuang rushed inside, grabbed Yun Labu by her arm, and dragged her through the front door.

Outside, Yun Labu stood stunned for a moment, then shouted, “Kangantat! Who did you bring here?” She pointed at the smiling man the messenger had brought, figuring him to be about ten years older than Napalong.

Rimau hesitated. “This isn’t your husband?”

“Don’t you stoke a fire here, sir!” Grandma Bengkuang barged into the conversation.

“She’s my faithful granddaughter!”

“But isn’t this the man your granddaughter has been sending her sayak-betingkats to?”

Grandma Bengkuang huffed, “Didn’t the late Wak Juai pass down the list of sayak-betingkat recipients to you, his successor?”

“Of course he did!”

Yun Labu pointed again at the man the kangantat had brought. “Then why did you give my sayak-betingkats to him?” she asked, disgusted. Not only had all of her cooking been consumed by this stranger, but the poems that had been so beautiful to her ears were now equally disgusting.

“Ma’am!” Rimau’s voice was strained. “I deliver hundreds of sayak-betingkats without knowing the recipients’ details. I only know their names, not their ages, origins, or preferences.”

Grandma Bengkuang squinted. “Why don’t you want to know?”

“It’s a good way to test my ability to be accurate without that information.”

“And you have failed!” Yun Labu snapped.

“Even though I just recently took over Wak Juai’s job, I have never made a mistake. Each sayak-betingkat I delivered has reached the right recipient. Most of them are men — newlyweds, as well as those who are loved by relatives and generous people who do not want their identities known. Among the recipients are also widowers —”

“And I’m a widower.”

Rimau, Yun Labu, and Grandma Bengkuang all looked at the man who had so far been silent.

“And you!” Yun Labu pointed at the widower. “Why did you eat the lunches that were not yours? Why did you lure me with words, as if you were my husband! You … you … you ….” Yun Labu broke into tears.

The widower stood silent for a moment, then replied softly. “Would it be wrong if I hoped to have the same luck as some of the men who receive a sayak-betingkat from unknown senders? One man even ended up marrying the widow who sent him lunch. Is it wrong for me to dream? Is it wrong for me to believe that someone generous would send me a sayak-betingkat? Be it a girl or a widow, I really don’t care!”

“I’m neither of those!” Yun Labu exclaimed. “I am a married woman!”

Rimau turned to the widower. “You really aren’t her husband?” Rimau’s mask hid his surprise.

The widower gasped and shook his head nervously.

“Please answer!” Rimau pressed.

“Is there another scribe in the Pagarbesi kingdom who writes poetry as well as I can?” The widower’s voice trembled.

“Napalong!” snapped Yun Labu. “My husband is a martial arts master at Pagarbesi. You must know him.”

The royal messenger swallowed hard. Napalong was indeed well-known in the Pagarbesi kingdom.

Yun Labu fumed, but before she could vent her anger, the kangantat spoke. “Pardon me, ma’am and Grandma.” Rimau bowed. “What can I do to make up for this mistake?”

Grandma Bengkuang’s answer was curt. “Tomorrow, you will escort Yun Labu to the royal training camp to meet her husband and clear up this mistake!” She told Yun Labu to go back into the hut, then slammed the door behind them.

***

A stone’s throw from the cottage, Napalong stood, watching his wife and Grandma Bengkuang speaking with the kangantat and a man he did not recognize. After days of walking through many jungles and crossing many rivers, Napalong arrived at their cottage with a longing that almost made his chest burst. Now, watching the scene outside their cottage, Napalong concluded that he had been mistaken to trust the woman he had married. As a man devoted to his duties, promises, and obligations, Napalong realized that Yun Labu had broken her promise when she sent him the sayak-betingkats that contained dishes he had never tasted. He was devastated to discover how Yun Labu could be so insensitive to his feelings.

***

The next day, after arriving at the Pagarbesi training camp, Yun Labu found out that Napalong had left about a week before. Grief filled her eyes and chest, but rules prohibited crying near the palace, because it would show that the king had not led his servants and people to prosperity.

Rimau wanted very much to embrace Yun Labu. He wanted to tell her that if her husband really loved her, he would come back. However, Rimau dared not disrupt the plan his queen mother had devised. He thought back to how it had all come about.

***

Inside the castle of the Batangpuan kingdom, Tanjung Samin, proudly showed his parents, King Ginde Ulak and Queen Putri Mayang, the nipah scrolls on which Wak Juai’s instructions were written in beautifully engraved Ulu scripts. At the behest of his mother and father, Tanjung Samin had applied for and been accepted to replace Wak Juai in the Pagarbesi kingdom as a kangantat.

“It’s not for nothing that we sent you to China to learn politics and magic, my son,” said Putri Mayang, taking a roll of nipah leaves from a bamboo holder.

Behind the throne, as her husband and son talked, Putri Mayang examined the lontar scrolls of Wak Juai’s instructions. After she found Napalong and Yun Labu’s rolled together names, she hastily took another roll of names and switched the leaves before rolling the scrolls up and stuffing them back into the bamboo holder. “I have checked the names of the senders and recipients,” she said to her son, handing him the bamboo holder. “Do your job. We are sure you will do it well.”

“Unlike your sister, you’re an obedient son!” applauded Ginde Ulak with conceit. “You didn’t tell them that your name is Tanjung Samin, did you?”

“No, I introduced myself as Rimau,” answered Tanjung Samin. “Nor did I tell them I have Batangpuan royal blood.”

Ginde Ulak nodded with satisfaction. “In addition to your mother’s request that you hide the identities of the sayak-betingkat recipients, you must also make sure that Yun Labu is well, that all her needs are met. You may not bring her home, of course. Your sister has disobeyed us and brought shame to the family and the Batangpuan kingdom.”

“For how long will she be punished, Father?” Tanjung Samin’s voice weakened as he lowered his eyes.

Ginde Ulak looked away.

***

Fate evened the score of Putri Mayang’s victory in separating Yun Labu from Napalong. After seeing that he had broken his sister’s heart by trickery, Tanjung Samin felt like a starving person being served a simalakama. According to local belief, the fruit, if eaten would kill his mother; and if left uneaten would kill his father. He had chosen to hurt his little sister whom he loved very much. Filled with painful regret that he had made his sister suffer, Tanjung Samin returned to China without saying goodbye to Ginde Ulak and Putri Mayang.

***

Decades later, Tanjung Samin returned to succeed Ginde Ulak on the throne of the Batangpuan kingdom.

He coaxed Yun Labu to return to the kingdom, but he could not prevent her from daily cooking rice and curry in the palace kitchen. To people who asked about his sister’s odd behavior, Tanjung Samin replied lightly, “Cooking not only produces food that satisfies the body, it also fills one’s longing. One day, Napalong, like the people who hear this story, will be astounded and find sustenance in my sister’s loyalty.”

*****