Windy Marthinda, loves writing. A mother of three, her husband fully supports her writing. She is employed as an administrator by a local hospital.
She has published several novels and short story anthologies, among others, are Mystery of Amazon (Voila! Publishing, 2021), Elang (Voila! Publishing, 2021), Rahim (Voila! Publishing, 2021), Pulang ke Rumah (Voila! Publishing, 2023), Instalasi Bedah Cinta (D’Best Publishing, 2022), dan Doctor Hospitalicious (D’Best Publishing, 2023). Her novel Acroxia the Exotic Land (Mizan, 2022) obtained several favorable reviews from acclaimed Indonesian writers. Kurnia Effendi wrote: Windy is not only intelligent, the energy her writing exudes is impressive.

Windy Marthinda can be reached at:

 

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Duruwiksa

Kata orang-orang kampung, kakekku memelihara siluman berwajah menakutkan dan berbadan raksasa. Mereka menyebutnya Duruwiksa atau buta.

Baru sebulan lalu aku merasa benar-benar mengenal kakekku. Semenjak lahir, aku memang tinggal di luar kota. Keadaanlah yang membuatku tidak tinggal bersama Kakek. Lelaki lewat setengah abad itu terlalu suntuk menghabiskan waktunya untuk sendirian di dalam kamarnya. Kakek sering berdiam diri di sebuah ruangan tertutup di dalam rumah.

“Selama kuliah di Bandung nanti, kamu tinggal sama Kakek saja. Bunda tidak mengizinkanmu ngekos, karena khawatir akan keselamatanmu. Kalau di rumah Kakek, kamu aman.” Bunda berkata.

Kalau Bunda sudah bersabda, aku mati kutu. Tidak ada gunanya melawan. Keputusannya sudah bulat. Tentu itu keputusan yang disertai doa untuk anak perempuan sulung yang bersemangat melanjutkan pendidikannya ini.

Berbeda dengan perkiraanku, kepindahanku ke rumah Kakek sebenarnya tidak buruk-buruk amat. Selain aku bisa mengenal lebih jauh sosok Kakek yang mengandung rahasia, aku juga bisa membantu Teh Qonita mengajar. Dia sepupu jauhku yang mengajar matematika di sebuah lembaga bimbingan belajar dekat rumah Kakek. Lumayan, untuk menambah jam terbang sebagai seorang pendidik nanti.

Matahari menyerupai bola api, jingga, dan tampak lebih besar ketika aku membuka pintu gerbang rumah Kakek. Bi Saripah — yang kupanggil Bi Ipah — menyambutku di beranda, menyuruhku segera mandi dan lalu menyantap makanan yang telah dia siapkan.

“Bibi diamanati buat mengurus Neng Silva. Pokoknya Neng teu kenging nolak. Tidak boleh, ya. Nanti Bibi yang kena marah Kakek,” ujar Bi Ipah pada suatu hari saat aku menolak diperlakukannya seperti anak-anak.

Pembicaraanku dengan Bi Ipah tentang pelayanannya padaku pun berujung pada kenyataan bahwa aku yang akhirnya harus mengalah. Di mata Kakek dan Bi Ipah, aku dianggap masih bocah. Termasuk ketika aku bertanya mengapa Kakek lebih sering mengunci diri di kamarnya. Padahal dia bisa menikmati semilir angin di pekarangan atau mengurus burung-burung peliharaannya yang jumlahnya belasan. Menurutku, terlalu banyak hal janggal tentang Kakek. Pada suatu malam, aku dikejutkan oleh kedatangan beberapa orang tamu. Kuintip mereka dari balik jendela kamar yang menghadap langsung ke pekarangan depan. Mereka berpakaian serbahitam menyerupai baju pemain silat, mereka datang mengendarai sebuah truk.

Sekitar empat atau lima pria berjalan hilir mudik, mengangkut berbagai barang dari atas lantai pendapa. Alat-alat musik gamelan, kotak-kotak kayu berukuran besar yang menyerupai peti, serta umbul-umbul beraneka warna dipindahkan dari bangunan di depan rumah itu ke truk yang berhenti di luar pagar.

Penasaran, kutemui Bi Ipah yang sedang bekerja di dapur. Dia tengah menuang air panas ke dalam termos kecil. Di meja terdapat beberapa jenis makanan yang dia masukkan ke dalam rantang susun.

“Itu orang-orang padepokan seni, Neng. Kakek malam ini mau manggung di desa sebelah.” Bi Ipah menerangkan sebelum aku mengutarakan rasa ingin tahuku.

Aku mengerutkan alis, tetapi kemudian mengendur saat teringat obrolan Kakek dengan Bi Ipah dua hari lalu. Kakek diundang untuk mendalang wayang golek dalam rangka syukuran pernikahan anak kepala desa sebelah. Kakekku memang seorang dalang. Meski sudah tidak terlalu banyak ditanggap seperti selagi muda dulu, dia masih menerima beberapa undangan mendalang dalam setahunnya. Undangan itu terutama dari pelanggan lama yang usianya satu angkatan dengannya.

Nama Kakek cukup dikenal di kalangan budayawan dan seniman Sunda Kakek juga tidak pelit dengan ilmu dan keterampilan mendalangnya. Dia punya cukup banyak murid. Bagi murid-muridnya, Kakek adalah sosok panutan. Pembawaannya berwibawa dengan perawakan yang tinggi dan tegap. Meski usianya menginjak akhir kepala tujuh, gerakannya terlihat sigap layaknya anak muda.

“Emang mulainya jam berapa, Bi? Jam segini, kok, baru angkut-angkut barang?”

“Kalau pertunjukan wayang golek biasanya dimulai tengah malam, Neng. Menjelang subuh baru selesai.” Bi Ipah menatapku, seolah dia heran dengan pertanyaanku.

Aku tidak bertanya lagi sampai perempuan itu selesai berkemas. Dia pamit untuk mengantarkan bekal Kakek ke ruang depan, meninggalkan aku yang mulai berpikir tentang kakekku. Cerita mengenai Kakek yang memelihara buta atau raksasa jadi-jadian, terus mengusik benakku. Mengapa sampai ada kabar angin semacam itu? Tentu ada sebabnya mengapa warga menduga Kakek berbuat demikian. Apakah di zaman yang sudah maju seperti sekarang masih ada hal-hal klenik seperti yang dikabarkan orang-orang? Kini beberapa hal aneh melintas dalam pikiranku. Aku teringat gerak-gerik Kakek yang janggal akhir-akhir ini. Sejak beberapa hari lalu, sikap Kakek berubah; dia tidak banyak bicara saat bertemu muka denganku. Wajahnya tampak tegang tiap kali keluar dari kamarnya.

“Kakek tampak sedih. Ada apa, Kek?” tanyaku untuk mengurangi rasa penasaranku.

Setelah memandangku lekat-lekat beberapa saat, dengan suara pelan Kakek berkata, “Saat aku seusiamu, keputusanku untuk bisa secepatnya kaya, berwibawa, dan disukai banyak orang kuambil. Sekarang aku menyesali keputusanku itu.”

Pembicaraan ringan dan berlangsung sambil lalu itu berat menekan batinku cukup lama. Cukup lama, sampai terdengar langkah kaki mendatangiku.

“Teh Sil, mau nonton?” Tiba-tiba seorang remaja laki-laki muncul di ambang teras, membuatku terperenyak.

Arip, anak Bi Ipah, sering datang ke rumah Kakek. Dia kerap membantu ibunya membereskan banyak pekerjaan, termasuk mencuci mobil dan memberi makan burung-burung peliharaan Kakek. “Kalau mau nonton, ayo sama Arip.” Mata bulatnya berbinar-binar.

“Emang kita bakal kuat nonton sampai subuh?” Aku menelengkan kepala. “Enggak janji deh.”

“Besok kan hari Minggu, Teh. Jadi aman begadang juga,” Arip menyeringai.
Aku tercenung sesaat. Usul Arip boleh juga. Seumur hidup, aku belum pernah menyaksikan pertunjukan wayang golek secara langsung. Mungkin hanya beberapa kali menonton di televisi. Itu pun tidak sampai selesai.

“Tapi jangan bilang Mamah, ya,” bisik Arip.

“Kenapa?”

“Suka cerewet, bilang segala enggak boleh.”

Aku terkekeh.

“Oiya, Teh, kalau nonton wayang, jangan minta pulang sebelum selesai pertunjukan.” Arip menyipitkan mata.

“Emang kenapa?” tanyaku penasaran.

“Kata Mamah, itu pamali. Apalagi sekarang malam bulan purnama” Arip kembali menyeringai.

Aku mengernyit.

“Pokoknya, kita enggak boleh melanggar aturan dari Kakek, Teh. Begitu kata Mamah.”

Arip menatapku tajam.

Pamali kata ini adalah senjata para orang tua seperti ibuku yang selalu menyebutkan kata itu jika aku mempertanyakan mengenai sebuah aturan. Bagiku itu hanya siasat melarang si anak melawan – melawan dengan pendapatnya yang lebih masuk akal.

Begitu pula ketika aku mulai tinggal di rumah Kakek. Sebelum berangkat, Bunda mewanti-wantiku untuk tidak sembarangan bicara di depan Kakek. Tidak boleh masuk ke kamar Kakek tanpa izin. Dilarang berkeliaran pada malam hari terutama di sekitar pendapa. Tidak boleh ini. Tidak boleh itu. Pamali.

“Teh, ini antara kita aja, ya.” Arip mencondongkan tubuhnya.

Aku mengangguk penuh minat.

“Kalau kita nonton wayang enggak sampai beres, duruwiksa akan mencegat kita di jalan.” Arip bicara dengan gaya berahasia.

“Apa itu duruwiksa?” tanyaku.

“Sssttt! Jangan keras-keras! Nanti ada yang dengar.” Arip meletakkan telunjuk di depan mulutnya sendiri lalu menjelaskan apa itu duruwiksa. Duruwiksa digambarkannya sebagai buta, raksasa, dengan wajah menyeramkan. Mulutnya lebar dan memiliki taring panjang. Matanya melotot, bahkan ada yang bola matanya merah. Duruwiksa mewakili wujud keserakahan dan sifat-sifat buruk makhluk di bumi, sifat-sifat yang harus diperangi.

Kemudian Arip menceritakan kisah yang dialami oleh teman mamahnya yang meninggalkan pertunjukan wayang golek sebelum pegelaran itu berakhir. Ketika teman mamahnya itu berjalan pulang, dia bertemu dengan bayangan menakutkan. Bayangan itu kian membesar di hadapannya. Sosoknya seperti manusia berbadan gemuk, tetapi terlalu tinggi untuk ukuran orang pada umumnya. Ketika pelan-pelan teman mamahnya menoleh ke belakang, matanya kembali terbelalak.

Seperti mimpi, di hadapannya berdiri sesosok makhluk menyerupai tokoh buta atau raksasa dalam lakon wayang golek. Tubuhnya ditumbuhi rambut-rambut kasar yang jarang. Kulitnya berwarna abu-abu. Wajah buta itu makin jelas ketika angin berembus, menggeser gemawan yang sebelumnya menutupi bulan purnama.

Wajah buta itu memiliki sepasang mata yang menonjol. Hidungnya bulat dan besar. Mulutnya terbuka lebar dengan lidah terjulur hingga mencapai dada. Dari mulut yang dipenuhi geligi tajam, menetes air liur yang mengenai sebagian kaki teman mamahnya itu. Dia merasakan tetesan air liur itu begitu nyata, hangat, dan lengket.

“Lalu bagaimana nasib teman mamahmu itu?” aku memotong ceritanya, tidak kuasa menahan rasa penasaranku.

“Dia ditemukan tergeletak pingsan di pinggir jalan oleh orang-orang yang pulang dari menonton pertunjukan wayang golek,” kata Arip dengan suara dibesarkan diseram-seramkan.

“Ohh!”

Kami pun sesaat berdiam diri. Agaknya cerita itu tidak hanya menakutkan bagiku tetapi juga bagi Arip sendiri.

“Jam setengah dua belas, Arip jemput Teteh pakai motor, ya. Malam ini Mamah nginep di rumah nenek Arip. Jadi kita aman.” Setelah meninggalkan sebongkah penasaran di dadaku, Arip pergi begitu saja, membuat dua jam penantian terasa seperti dua tahun lamanya.

Tepat pukul sebelas tiga puluh malam, Arip benar-benar datang mengendarai sepeda motor bebek. Dia mengenakan jaket, kupluk, dan celana berbahan tebal. Angin malam memang terasa menggigit. Aku pun memutuskan untuk memakai mantelku.

Setelah beberapa menit membonceng Arip, dari kejauhan suara gamelan mulai terdengar. Ingar-bingar makin jelas ketika kami memasuki kawasan tanah lapang. Suasana malam menjelma seperti keramaian siang. Orang-orang berbagai usia berkumpul. Para pedagang mengambil kesempatan untuk meraup keuntungan dalam peristiwa hajatan itu. Pesta begitu meriah meski waktu telah meninggalkan tengah malam dan titik-titik gerimis tipis mulai datang.

Tak lama sejak kami tiba, pertunjukan wayang golek digelar. Kakek muncul diiringi sorak-sorai penonton yang mengelu-elukannya. Penampilannya begitu merampas perhatian, dan menyihir sejenak para pengagumnya. Dengan pakaian khas seorang dalang, Kakek tampak lebih gagah dibanding dengan penampilan kesehariannya. Wajahnya memancarkan pesona yang sulit untuk dijelaskan. Kakekku terlihat lebih ganteng dan berwibawa.

Tokoh-tokoh wayang dijejerkan di depan kakekku. Sunduk, penyangga wayang berupa tusuk terbuat dari kayu ditancapkan pada sebatang pohon pisang besar yang direbahkan. Batang pisang itu telah dikuliti bagian luarnya sehingga tampak mulus. Sementara Kakek duduk di balik panggung menghadap para wayang.

Gamelan mulai dimainkan, disambut tepuk tangan membahana para penikmat seni wayang golek. Tidak tua, tidak muda, penonton melebur dan terhanyut dalam kisah “Perang Baratayudha” yang disajikan secara apik oleh kakekku.

Seperti yang lainnya, Arip berkali-kali mendesah kagum akan kepiawaian Kakek melakonkan boneka-boneka kayu dengan menggunakan kedua tangannya. Sesekali pemuda ingusan itu bertepuk tangan dan bersorak. Jantungku berdentam-dentam tatkala menyaksikan perkelahian antara salah satu tokoh buta dengan Bima. Apalagi irama musik yang dimainkan pun sangat mendukung adegan itu. Benar-benar menakjubkan.

Waktu tengah malam sudah ditinggalkan satu setengah jam yang lalu. Pertunjukan pun makin seru sampai tiba pada babak selingan. Gelak tawa mewarnai penonton di sekelilingku ketika tokoh Cepot dan Dawala ditampilkan. Meski mereka tokoh yang jenaka, ada ucapan celetukan sarat pesan yang dapat disimak saat mereka berbincang-bincang. Di antaranya mengenai keberpihakan mereka kepada keluarga Pandawa Lima yang menjunjung tinggi kebenaran.

Rasa hangat menyeruak ke dalam dadaku saat Semar muncul. Dengan kebijaksanaannya, Semar mampu mendamaikan anak-anaknya yang sedang berseteru dengan salah satu tokoh buta yang kocak. Sebelumnya bahkan si buta memuntahkan mi kuning dari mulutnya ketika dihajar oleh Cepot. Aku tidak pernah menyangka, kakekku yang kukenal sebagai kakek-kakek kurang ramah ternyata mampu memukau banyak orang melalui pertunjukan wayang golek yang dia sajikan.

Menyaksikan pertunjukan wayang secara langsung seperti ini merupakan pengalaman yang menyenangkan. Suasananya amat berbeda dengan saat menonton melalui televisi. Ada rasa bangga menyelinap ke benakku. Aku begitu beruntung memiliki kakek yang masih menjunjung tinggi budaya di tengah-tengah kemajuan zaman seperti sekarang. Aku sebagai cucu seorang dalang semestinya turut melestarikan kebudayaan nenek moyang ini, bukannya malah lebih menyukai pertunjukan masa kini yang hanya dipenuhi ingar-bingar. Aku jadi merasa bersalah.

Jarum jam di arlojiku menunjukkan pukul dua dini hari, ketika sekonyong-koyong perutku melilit. Mungkin karena angin yang berembus cukup kencang yang mengiringi turunnya hujan gerimis atau karena jadwal bulananku akan segera datang. Aku meringis menahan nyeri karena isi perutku seperti terpilin-pilin.

Kutepuk bahu Arip yang masih penuh perhatian menatap panggung. Dia menoleh. “Teteh mau cari kamar kecil dulu, ya,” ucapku agak lantang untuk menyaingi bisingnya suara irama rancak gamelan.

Arip manggut-manggut lalu mengacungkan dua ibu jarinya sambil tersenyum. Dia lantas kembali menonton. Entah dia mendengar perkataanku dengan jelas atau tidak, terpenting bagiku harus segera menemukan tempat yang nyaman untuk buang hajat.

Aku menanyakan letak kamar kecil terdekat pada seorang penonton wanita di bagian belakangku. Dia mengatakan aku bisa memakai kamar jamban di gedung balai desa. Jaraknya tidak sampai tiga ratus meter dari lapangan tempat pesta diadakan. Aku mengucapkan terima kasih kepadanya lantas tergesa-gesa pergi menyelinap di antara kerumunan orang.

Ke arah yang sesuai dengan petunjuk wanita tadi, aku melangkah. Rasa melilit di perutku menjadikanku tidak peduli dengan gerimis yang membasahi rambutku. Untuk sampai ke balai desa, aku harus melewati pesawahan yang gelap. Agar tidak tersandung, aku menyalakan lampu senter pada telepon genggamku. Suasana malam tidak membuatku gentar karena bunyi gamelan masih dapat terdengar meski aku berjalan makin jauh dari tanah lapang. Didorong mulas yang menyiksa, keberanianku meningkat berlipat.

Aku termasuk perempuan pemberani, tidak takut pada gelap atau suasana sepi. Jadi, ketika kulihat kelebatan bayangan di sepanjang jalan beraspal yang membelah petak-petak sawah, aku bertekad untuk tidak mundur. Hajatku telah di ujung tanduk. Kalau aku berhenti, sepertinya perutku akan meledak. Namun, tiba-tiba angin kencang menerpaku. Aku sampai sempoyongan karena terdorong kekuatannya. Seolah-olah angin itu mencegahku untuk melangkah lebih jauh. Dari kelam langit kulihat garis berkelok terang membelah pekatnya malam. Rupanya gerimis akan segera berubah menjadi hujan deras. Angin pun bertiup lebih kencang.

Rasa mulasku agak mereda karena beralih perhatian pada tiupan angin yang mengantarkan hujan. Namun, aku tidak mungkin berbalik arah setelah pergi sejauh ini. Jika aku kembali ke lapangan, nanti sakit perut malah datang lagi. Aku tetap harus menuju jamban.

Serta-merta tubuhku tersentak saat seakan-akan ada yang menarik tanganku dari belakang. Aku terjerembap jatuh ke jalanan. Saat itu mendadak nyaliku sedikit ciut. Apa mungkin ada dedemit yang ingin menggangguku?

Segera kurapalkan doa dalam hati. Aku berusaha bangkit, tetapi urung ketika seolah muncul sebuah bayangan di hadapanku. Aku teringat cerita Arip tentang duruwiksa yang mengadang teman mamahnya. Angin bertiup lebih kencang, dan ada gelegar tepat di atas kepalaku.

Sentuhan lembut di pipi membuatku perlahan-lahan membuka mata. Serbuan cahaya yang menyilaukan menyebabkan aku mengerjap-ngerjap. Kemudian dadaku rasanya membuncah ketika pandanganku semakin jelas. Aku begitu bahagia melihat wajah Kakek dan sadar bahwa aku sedang terbaring pada tempat tidur di kamarku sendiri.

“Kakek,” bisikku lemah.

Pria sepuh itu tak menjawabku. Dia hanya terdiam dan tersenyum tipis. Tatapan matanya yang beriris kelabu karena dimakan usia menatapku syahdu. Tangannya yang menonjolkan urat-urat berkelok kehijauan terulur.

Kakek membelai kepalaku. “Kamu tidak apa-apa, kan?”

Aku menelan ludah. Tenggorokanku tersekat, tak mampu menjawab. Kelebatan wajah duruwiksa yang seolah menyeringai mengadangku di tengah hujan dan petir masih begitu jelas tergambar dalam benak ini. Aku bergidik ngeri.

“Kakek sudah pernah bilang, jangan pernah melanggar aturan mengenai pertunjukan wayang golek. Jangan beranjak dari tempatmu sebelum pertunjukan berakhir jika tidak mau terjadi sesuatu yang buruk menimpamu.” Kakek menepuk-nepuk pipiku sembari tersenyum.

Aku terdiam. Ada penyesalan yang begitu besar dalam dada hingga rasanya menarik napas saja aku kesulitan. Aku percaya, kisah mengenai duruwiksa bukan isapan jempol semata. Pengalamanku yang seolah bertemu muka dengan durukwiksa, sungguh hal yang menakutkan.

“Aku menasihatimu, karena aku begitu menyayangimu. Jangan mentang-mentang kamu sudah merasa dewasa, lantas tidak mengindahkan perkataanku.” Suara Kakek yang begitu dalam membuat dadaku bergetar.

Sebulir bening meluncur dari pelupuk mataku. Aku sungguh terharu dengan pilihan hidup Kakek yang kini disesalinya. “Maafkan aku, Kek.”

 

*****

 

Purwanti Kusumaningtyas teaches at the English Literature Bachelor’s Program, Faculty of Language and Arts, Satya Wacana Christian University in Salatiga, Central Java. She earned her master’s and doctorate degrees from the American Studies Graduate Program, Faculty of Cultural Science, Gadjah Mada University, Yogyakarta. She has a wide range of interests, including mountain climbing and hiking, as well as poetry and short-story writing.

She has published her poems and short stories in anthologies, among others, “Furtive Notions” (DeePublish 2022) and “They Are Here” (DeePublish 2023). Some of her poems have been musicalized and performed in various non-profit, humanistic events, including LETSS Talk, a prominent feminist initiative in Indonesia, and Festival Musik Rumah (FMR). She has worked with Dalang Publishing since 2013, after discovering that she and the publisher share a passion to preserve and introduce Indonesia’s diversity to the world.

Purwanti can be reached at: purwanti.kusumaningtyas@uksw.edu

*****

 

Duruwiksa

The villagers said that my grandfather kept an ogre. They said it was huge and frightening. They called it duruwiksa ⸺ the giant.

I only came to know my grandfather well this month. Before that, I always lived in a different city than him. Circumstances prevented me from visiting. However this month, I started my studies in Bandung.

“You stay with your grandfather,” my mother had ordered me. “I’m worried about your safety and won’t allow you to rent a room. You’ll be safe in your grandfather’s house.”

When my mother stated something, there was no use in arguing. Her final decision was accompanied by a prayer for her eldest daughter’s successful pursuit of education.

To my surprise, moving in with my grandfather was not that bad. Aside from having the opportunity to get to know this mysterious man better, I could also assist my cousin teach an afternoon lesson program near my grandfather’s house.

When I first entered the gate of my grandfather’s house, the orange sun hung like a flaming ball in the sky. Saripah — who I came to call Bi Ipah — was my grandfather’s longtime live-in maid, who over the years earned the position of a family aunt. She welcomed me on the front porch, then told me to clean up and eat the meal she had prepared.

“I am assigned to look after you, Neng Silva,” she said, addressing me respectfully with the Sundanese term for “miss.” When I told her that I refused to be waited on hand and foot, she added, “You cannot refuse. Your grandpa will be angry with me if you do.”

After further discussions with Bi Ipah about the way she treated and served me, I eventually came to obey her, for I was still a child in the eyes of my grandfather and Bi Ipah. Still, I often wondered why my grandfather spent more time locked in his room than enjoying the outside breeze or taking care of his many pet birds.
One night, I was surprised by the sound of several people outside the house. I peeked at them from my bedroom window. They had arrived in a truck, now parked by our front yard fence, and wore black costumes like silat, martial arts performers.

They entered our hall and gathered the big wooden boxes containing my grandfather’s gamelan music instruments and colorful flags, then took them out to the truck.

Curious, I went to see Bi Ipah in the kitchen. She was pouring boiling water into a small thermos and placing different kinds of food into a tiered tiffin.

“Tonight, your grandfather performs in the nearby village,” Bi Ipah explained before I even asked her.

Then I remembered grandfather’s conversation with Bi Ipah two days ago. He had been invited to perform the wayang golek, a wooden puppet show, at the neighboring village. The village chief’s child was getting married, and my grandfather was hired as a dalang, to narrate the stories while manipulating the puppets. Even though he did not receive as many invitations as he used to when he was young, Bi Ipah explained, he still performed the show several times a year, typically for his longtime customers.

My grandfather was a popular role model who generously shared his skills and knowledge of puppeteering with Sundanese art students and cultural activists. Tall and fit, my grandfather was charismatic. Although in his late seventies, he was still as nimble as a young man.

“What time will the wayang golek start?” I asked. “Why are they only now taking the instruments?”

Bi Ipah looked at me, obviously puzzled by my questions. “A wayang golek show usually begins at midnight and ends when the mosque calls out the dawn prayer time.”

I stopped asking questions so she could finish packing the food. She excused herself to take the tiffins to my grandfather and left me alone in the kitchen. My thoughts turned to the villagers’ story I’d heard that my grandfather kept an evil giant — the duruwiksa. It bothered me. What had started such a rumor? The villagers must have some reason to suspect that my grandfather kept an ogre. And do people really still believe in such things in this modern age?

I thought about my grandfather’s unusual behavior that had started several days ago. His attitude toward me changed. He didn’t say much, and he looked tense whenever he came out of his room.

“You look sad,” I had said to him one day. “Has something happened?”

After looking at me closely, my grandfather softly replied, “When I was your age, I was greedy. I decided to choose the easiest way to become rich, well-respected, and well-liked. Now, I’m paying the price ….”

That cryptic conversation still weighed heavy on my mind.

Footsteps approached from the porch, startling me. “Would you like to watch the show?” a voice asked.

It was Arip, Bi Ipah’s teenage son, who often came to help with washing the car and feeding the pet birds. “If you do, I’ll take you!” His round eyes sparkled.

“Do you think we’ll be able to stay awake until dawn?” I asked, shaking my head. “I can’t promise.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.” Arip grinned. “So, it’s okay to stay up the whole night.”

I paused. I’ve never watched a live wayang golek performance — or even finished the few shows I tried to watch on TV. It might be worth trying.

“But please don’t tell my mother,” Arip whispered. “She’s fussy and always trying to keep me from things I want to do.” I chuckled as Arip’s eyes narrowed. “And remember, if you go to the puppet show, you have to stay till the end.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“We cannot violate your grandfather’s rules,” Arip said. “That’s what my mother told me. She would say that leaving early is pamali ⸺ bad luck. Especially because there’s a full moon now.”

“Pamali” was the one-word response that my mother and other elders used to answer anyone who questioned tradition. For me, the word was just a way to keep young people from using logic to challenge the rules.

I had to adhere to the word, as well. Before I left home to study in Bandung, my mother told me repeatedly to watch what I said to my grandfather or even when speaking within earshot of him. I couldn’t enter his room without permission. I couldn’t leave the house at night ⸺ especially not to wander around during community ceremonies and rites at the pendapa. I couldn’t do this; I couldn’t do that. Why? Because it was pamali.

“So,” Arip leaned into me and whispered, “keep this just between us.”

I nodded, feeling excited.

“If we don’t watch the puppet show till the end,” Arip continued, “duruwiksa will stop us on our way.”

“Wha-a-at?” I asked.

“Ssshhh! Don’t speak too loud! Someone might hear you!” Arip put his forefinger against his lips, then told me that a duruwiksa was a frightening giant who had bulging, fiery eyes. He represented greed. Selling your soul to him had its benefits, but also exacted a very high price.

Arip then told me about what happened to his mother’s friend when she left the puppet show before it ended. On her way home, she met a scary shadow. Shocked, she watched the fat human-like figure — but too big to be human — grow still bigger in front of her. As if in a dream, one of the giant puppet characters stood before her. When the wind chased away the clouds that hid the full moon, she could see him clearly.

The grotesque giant’s grey skin was furred with coarse, unruly hair. His face held a pair of bulging eyes and a big, round nose. When he opened his mouth, his long tongue unfurled down his chest. She could see his sharp teeth and felt his warm, saliva drop on her foot.

“So, what happened then?” I interrupted impatiently.

“People going home from the show found her —” Arip added dramatic emphasis to his voice to make the story scarier “—lying unconscious on the road.”

We were both silent. The story scared both of us.

“I will pick you up on my motorcycle at eleven-thirty tonight,” Arip said. “My mother is sleeping at my grandmother’s house, so she won’t know.”

My curiosity piqued, the next two hours felt like two years.

***

At 11:30 sharp, Arip arrived wearing a jacket, warm cap, and thick pants against the biting wind.

After a short ride, I heard faint gamelan music. It grew louder as we entered the field where the open-air theater was staged. Even though it was now past midnight and had started to drizzle, the dark night had changed to bright day, with people of all ages mingling about, and street vendors trying to profit from the lively party.

The wayang golek show began. When my grandfather appeared on the stage, people roared with praise and rounds of applause. Radiating an indescribable charm, his attractive appearance mesmerized his fans. Wearing the traditional costume of a dalang, my grandfather looked handsome, authoritative, and more robust than he did in daily life.

The wooden puppet characters were placed in a row in front of my grandfather. Each puppet was supported by a wooden stick. These sunduks were stuck into a big banana tree trunk. Its bark had been removed to leave a smooth surface. My grandfather sat behind the stage, behind the puppets.

The gamelan music started and was followed with wooden puppet art and rounds of applause. Young and old spectators were immersed in my grandfather’s beautiful rendition of the “Baratayudha War,” a story from the Mahabharata, a smriti text from ancient India.

Like the other spectators, Arip repeatedly sighed in awe of my grandfather’s skill in manipulating the puppets with his two hands. Occasionally, he clapped and cheered. My heart pounded as I watched the fight between one of the puppet giants and the puppet Bima, the second son of the five Pandawa heroes of the Mahabharata story. The music accompanying the scene matched it perfectly, creating a spectacular scene.

At one-thirty in the morning, the show became more exciting as we moved toward intermission. Around me, the audience burst into laughter when my grandfather brought the clown servant characters Cepot and Dawala to life. Even though they were comedic, their dialog was meaningful ⸺ especially when they showed their partiality to the family of Pandawa Lima, who stood for righteousness.

A warm feeling surged through me when Semar appeared. A symbol of wisdom, Semar helped his children make peace with a funny giant, who had vomited yellow noodles after Cepot beat him up. I didn’t expect my grandfather, who seemed so remote and unfriendly, to captivate so many people with his wooden puppet show.

Watching a live puppet show was fun — very different from watching one on television. I felt proud. I was lucky to have a grandfather who preserved the traditional culture in this modern era. As a dalang’s granddaughter, I realized I should participate in preserving our culture instead of wasting time on modern-day popular performances that only amounted to noise.

Suddenly, my stomach cramped in pain. It was only two in the morning. Maybe I was getting sick from the cold drizzly wind? Monthly cramps? I winced and tapped Arip on the shoulder. Competing with the noisy gamelan music, I said loudly, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Still focused on the stage, Arip nodded and put both thumbs up.

I asked a woman sitting behind me where the nearest restroom was. She said I could use the one in the village meeting hall, just a few minutes’ walk from the celebration. I quickly moved through the crowd.

My stomach cramps grew worse. I no longer cared about the drizzle soaking my hair. I had to cross a dark rice field to reach the village meeting hall. I turned on my smartphone’s flashlight so I could see better. I could still hear the gamelan music behind me. Although I was not a fan of darkness or large, vacant areas, my stomachache spurred me on.

So when I saw a shadow on the paved road between the rice fields, I couldn’t — wouldn’t — turn back. I needed that restroom! A sudden wind gust slapped at me, trying to push me back. I stumbled as lightning cut through the dark sky and the wind whipped me harder. A downpour felt imminent. I focused on the ominous weather. I couldn’t go back to the celebration, not after having gone this far.

Behind me, something pulled my arm, and I fell to the ground, suddenly frightened. A ghost?

I tried to get up, but a shadow rose in front of me. I remembered Arip’s story about the duruwiksa that had stopped his mother’s friend. The frenzied wind howled, and the skies thundered. My heart stammered — and then everything went dark.

When I next opened my eyes, I felt a soft caress on my cheek. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the glaring light. Relief surged through me as I saw my grandfather and realized I was safe in my bedroom.

“Grandpa,” I whispered weakly.

The old man didn’t answer. Wearing a thin smile, he looked at me calmly. I noticed the gray in his aging eyes and the pronounced veins in the hand that reached for me. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I was too emotional to say anything. I swallowed hard as I clearly remembered the scary face of the grinning duruwiksa that had felled me in the middle of the rain and lightning. I shivered.

Smiling, Grandpa patted my cheek. “You were told to never violate the rule of a puppet show. If you don’t want something bad to happen to you, never move from your seat before the show is over.”

Guilt silenced me into shaky breaths. Duruwiksa was real. I had met the ogre and survived.

“I warned you because I love you so much.” My grandfather’s soft, deep voice soothed me. “Just because you think you’re an adult doesn’t mean you can ignore what you’re told.”

I was moved by the cost of my grandfather’s choice that, now in his wisdom, he regretted. A tear slipped between my eyelids. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”

 

*****