Up to 78th years old

SUPARTO BRATA was born in Surabaya on February 27, 1932. As a result of the war, his schooling was intermittent. From a young age, he was forced to earn his own living, and he did so in part by writing. To supplement this income, he worked in a number of other positions at the Telegraph Office of Surabaya, the Government Commerce Office, and the Surabaya Municipality Administration.

Suparto Brata has always written, continuing to do so into retirement. By 2007, he turned 75 years old, he had written more than 125 books.He has also produced features, reviews, articles, , and fiction for newspapers and magazines.

Excerpt from The S.E.A. WRITE ANTHOLOGY OF ASEAN SHORT STORIES & POEMS
In Celebration of ASIAN’s Anniversary and S.E.A. Write’s 30th Anniversary, Bangkok 2008.

DAMN!! I LOST MY SHOES IN THE MOSQUE
Suparto Brata
(translated from Javanese Language by Tenno Singgalang)

DAMN!! I lost my shoes in the mosque. On account of Friday Prayers at the new mosque near my office. Damn, it just was opened, and there are already casualties!! It’s really too much!!

Here’s the story. On Friday, I went to work late. It was a bad day, raining already in the morning. Yeah, it was the rainy season. I’ll wait till the rain is over, I thought, so I wouldn’t be soaking wet when I got to work. It was Friday, man. On Fridays, the Muslim commonity prays together in the mosque. I wanted to go to the new mosque near my office to pray with the others after work. Try the new mosque, that’s how to avoid getting wet.

“Ran! Mr. Darji has been watching you since earlier! Get on your feet!”
“Ooo. Ok, nothing’s changed, Mr. Ganda! Always joking.”
“No, swear! It’s true! If you don’t believe me, go there.”
“Ran, come here, Ran!” the voice of Mr. Darji from his room.
Mr. Ganda was not joking this morning.
Damn!! Even though my name is Yadiran, he shouldn’t call me RAN just like that. Somewone who didn’t know better would think my name is ‘Jaran’ (horse).
Damn, the supervisor.
Late just once, and he’d be mad.
“Have you been to Borobudur, Ran?”
“Yes, Sir, I’ve been there. But it was a long time ago, when I was in primary school.”
What the hell? What a headache!
I was late, so he made it complicated.
Ah, it’s alright, get mad at me. The boss was angry as usual.
Cause I was the only subordinate, wasn’t I?
And why did he mention Borobudur?
What the hell was on his mind?
“Do you want to go there again? Now that it’s restored. I’ve heard it’s more beautiful then ever, Ran. You would go with me there, wouldn’t you?”
“So the office is going for our retreat?”
“Damn the retreat!! I asked you to accompany me to Borobudur! Is that fine with you? I’m going to Munthilan, and I have no one with me, so the jeep’ll be empty. Will you go with me?”
“Ok, Sir. When are we going?”
“We’ll go as soon as the office closes.”
As soon as the office closes? So I won’t have a chance to pray? Well, trying out the new mosque will have to wait. Borobudur is more enchanting, but his supervisor’s in-laws lived in Munthilan, close by Borobudur.
“With your whole family, Sir?”
“Accually my kids are on their school break now, but it’just a short visit and will be so rushed! So it’s better if just the two of us go ~ I need a backup driver anyway.”

Damn, so that was the reason. He needed a backup driver. Why didn’t he just say it? It’s true ~ this supervisor has no driver. That’s why whenever he travels outside the city, he asks a subordinate to drive. It’s usually Bro Kadir, but this time his son was getting married, so of course he couldn’t go.

Go to Borobudur. Actually, I had wanted to go, but apparently it was expensive to get there on your own. Since I’ve been working, traveling has seemed a luxury, my salary never enough to meet the cost of living. Even if I worked overtime, it wasn’t enough. But now the boss has asked me go to Borobudur with him, surely free of charge, so be it.

It’s a pity not to be able to try out the new mosque for Friday prayers! Why should I lose that chance. Borobudur was quite far. Friday prayers in the new mosque could wait for next week. There were still more Fridays to come.

“If you agree, then go your home to get your luggage first. My plan would be to drive back on Monday”, Mr. Darji said.
What? I should go home first?

Damn! For the thrill of seeing Borobudur once again, I want through drizzling rain back home by motorcycle!! Seriously wet!! It’s alright, I told my auntie that I would be back home late morning.

Arranged my clothes and threw them in a backpack. My shoes were wet, so I took spare ones, a brand new pair. Going out of the city, one should look trendy.

I did it quickly! Told the becak driver to cycle as fast as possible, back to my office. Didn’t bargain for the rate. But I was still too late. When I get to the office, it was already closed. Damn!! On Fridays, the office closes at eleven o’clock.

“Did Mr. Darji go home?” I asked Dul, the guard, who was sweeping up the office floor.
“Yes. You should wait here. He went to pick up his wife.”
“Ah, he changed his mind. Before, he said we’d drive alone.”

Damn!! I was in a hurry!! My boss’s house was far away. His wife hadn’t even prepared yet! It could be one o’clock by the time he got back.

Suddenly I heard the Qur’an being read from the new mosque near my office. I realized I’d still have time to pray. I had to do it, Man!!

The sound of the Qur’an touched my heart, pulled me to the mosque.
“Could you watch my backpack, Dul. I want to go to the mosque first for Friday prayer.”
The rain had already stopped, so I didn’t have to run. There had to step gently as the pathway was disgustingly muddy.
After the prayers, my shoes were gone!! Damn!!
I looked around but couldn’t find them!!
They had definitely been stolen.
Brand new shoes!! Damn!! Damn!! Damn!!
Back to the office on foot without my shoes!! I regretted going!!
Why should my heart be touched by the Qur’an?!
Why should I stop by and pray?
I’m heading out of town anyway, so it’s fine not to do the Friday prayer.
“Mr. Darji just left a moment ago! Your backpack is already loaded into his jeep. His wife wanted to get some mangoes from the Gentheng market first! He brought his kids too, both of them. He’ll be back again to pick you up!” said Dul, the guard.
“Good! Can I borrow your motorcycle? I lost my shoes in the mosque. I need to pick up another pair at home.”
It would be a shame to go to Borobudur without shoes.
I took Dul’s Yamaha home. I sped, racing with the family who went to Gentheng market. The rain had already stopped so I was not worried about getting wet.
“Ran, you still haven’t left?”
“Not yen Auntie. I came to get a pair of shoes! I lost my fist ones in the mosque!”
“How did that happen?”
Aah, there was no time, so I put on the same wet shoes as before and quickly drove the Yamaha back to the office. As fast as possible, without even caring if the mud splashed on my back!

I got to the office, but the jeep was nowhere in sight. The chance to visit Borobudur for free made me run, like an old black train, until I was out of breath. I drove the Yamaha up onto the office yard and handed the key to Dul right away. He smiled.

“Aah, Mr Darji arrived, but I told him that you went home to get your shoes. He drove to your place to try and catch up with you there ~ his wife didn’t want to wait.”

“Ealaah…!! What the hell is happening to me today?!!”
“Come on. I’ll drive you back! We can catch up with them!!” Dul said. “I need to go to Pandhegiling anyway.”
“Oh, then,” I agreed. “Let’s go,” I hopped on the Yamaha behind Dul ~ he seemed to understand that I was in a hurry. Pandhegiling was not far from my home, in the same direction south from the office.
“Ran. You drive because I don’t know how to get to your place!”
“Ooh, hell!”

When I arrived at home, Auntie came rushing up to me. “Ooo, what happened to you? Mr. Darwis just arrived here, Ran! Your supervisor! I told him that you weren’t here. He said he would go without you, that he wanted to go right away. Mr. Your Supervisor was angry. He said he’d wanted to leave in the morning, but it was already 1.30 pm and he was still driving around and around the city!!”

What the hell!!

So that’s how it is? Just because I wanted to see Borobudur for free, I lose my new shoes in the mosque, and then the trip itself gets cancelled.

Damn it!

The next day, Saturday, I didn’t want to go to work. But I didn’t have any reason not to show up in the office. And I didn’t have anything to do at home anyway, so I went to work as usual.

When I arrived at the office, I went to my desk and found Mr. Ganda staring at me.
Joking as usual, I thought.
But he didn’t say anything.
It made me nervous.
“What? Did Mr. Darji call me again?” I asked.
“God. You’re still alive?!” he said seriously, seeming shocked.
“Mr. Ganda, I’m alive and smelly hahaha…. I know you’re representing Mr. Darji in the office today, but don’t overreact even more than he does… hahaha!”
“No… no…, I really wis surprised and shocked. You went to out of town with Mr. Darji, didn’t you? I thought you died too! This morning we received a call from the police at Nganjuk. The office jeep crashed with a truck, and everyone died… Mr. Darji, his whole family, and you. There was a backpack with your name on it. I sent everyone in the office out to notify Mr. Darji’s family and yours.”
“What?! Is this some kind of joke? Mr. Darji’s jeep did not really crash, did it?”
“In the name of God! You’re still alive?!”
Suddenly, I realized way I swore in the mosque made me lose my shoes. Damn, because of the new mosque, I lost my shoes, but not damn anymore.
God almighty!!

Now, I understood why the sound of the holy Qur’an touched my heart, called me to the mosque. I realized the meaning of those lost shoes. Better I lose my shoes than my life. No more swearing in my life anymore. Let it the shoes be gone, I still have my soul and my life. Dam…., before finishing the word I changed it to ‘Alhamdulillah,” thanks be to God.
***

Original karya Suparto Brata kuwi saka basa Jawa logat Surabaya, sawutuhe kaya mengkene iki:
(dadi prosa sastra Jawa ya wis mider ing sastra Asean, dhelok engkas sastra donya)
Ngiras pantes mengeti pikukuh Unesco: 21 Februari pengetan Bahasa Ibu International:

DIAMPUT, SEPATUKU ILANG NDHUK MEJID

Diamput! Sepatuku ilang ndhuk mejid. Iki gara-gara sholat Jumat ndhuk mejid enyar cedhake kantorku. Diamput, ejik enyar wis nggawa korban! Cik nemene!
Ngene critane. Dina Jumat, aku telat mlebu kantor. Nggelani, esuk-esuk udan! Lagek musime ancene.

Rada daksrantekna mendhane gremis, cik gak nemen-nemen kebes. Jumat hare! Aku pengin sembahyang ndhuk mejid enyar cedhak kantor. Nganyeri. Mulakna klambiku mlebu kantor ojok sampek kebes.

“Ran! Koën diteleki Pak Darji! Kaet maeng! Cepet ngadhepa!”
“Ook, pancet aé, Pak Ganda iku! Isuk-isuk wis gègèran!”
“Lho, gak guyon aku! Gak pecaya, mranaa tah!”
“Ran! Mrenea, Ran!” swarane Pak Darji saka kamare. Temen, gak guyon Pak Ganda esuk iki.
Mboktalah! Masiya jenengku Yadiran, ojok banter-banter apaa ngundang ngono. Sing gak ngreti lak dikira ngundang ‘jaran!’. Diamput, kepalaku sitok iki! Telat pisan aé katene dioring-oring!
“Koën wis tau lunga ndhuk nggone Borobudhur, Ran?”
“Empun, Pak! Tapine riyin, sik sekolah dhasar nika.” Soal apa maneh, iki, Rèk? Cik nylemete! Perkara telat thik macem-macem! Gak papa, srengeni juragan wis lumrah, wong ancene aku pegawe celik, rak iya? Tapi kathik nyebut-nyebut Borobudhur iku, lé, katene yok apa? Kemalan temen Pak Darji iku!
“Koën gak kepengin, tah, mrana maneh? Bareng wis dipugar iki jare bagus, Ran! Gelem melok aku, Koën?”
“Lho, niki kantor ajenge piknik, ngoten, tah?”
“Piknik gondhulmu! Koën iku lo, dakjak nyang Borobudhur! Gelem, tah? Aku katene nyang Munthilan. Jipe ngglondhang. Kancanana, ya!”
“Nggih. Kapan brangkate?”
“Dhiluk engkas. Mari kantor. Langsung aé.”
Mari kantor? Langsung? Lak gak jumatan? Wah, sholat nganyari mejid worung. Borobudhur luwih menjila.
Munthilan iku nggone maratuwane juragan.
“Sakeluwarga, tah, Pak?”
“Jane arek-arek ya prei. Tapi wong iki perlune ming sethithik! Lan kesusu. Dadi ya kene wong loro dhewe wae. Aku botuh kanca lan sopir serepan!”
É, talah! Ngono tah? Ancene botuh sopir kathik muter-muter. Kepalaku iki ancen gak duwe sopir khusus. Mulakna lek katene lunga ndhuk luwar kota, ngajak pegawene sing bisa nyopir. Biyasane Cak Kadir. Tapi wektune iki wonge lagek mantu. Terang gak isok diajak. Aku oleh kethuk!
Pengin ancene nyang Borobudhur. Cuma, katene mrana dhewe iku thik ngayane. Sajege kerja iki rasane mamang lunga adoh-adoh ngono! Sangu cupet! Padha hal wis dakrewangi kerja lembur, lho! Botuh iki rasane ana aé! Dioyak cumak ketok buntute. Mulakna mompung ana sing ngajak dolin ndhuk Borobudhur gratis, kathik sing ngajak kepala kantore dhewe, ‘ayo’ ngono aé.

Sayange gak sida nganyari jumatan ndhuk mejid enyar! Tapi Gusti Allah lak maklum, tah, la apa Yadiran ngilangna kesempatan iki. Borobudhur-é, gak cedhek iku mono! Sholat Jumat ndhuk mejid enyar isok Jumat ngarep maneh! Ésik akeh Jumat-Jumat sing katene teka.
“Lèk gelem, moliha dhesik njopuk salin. Rencanaku sampek Senen kaet balik molih.” Ngono Pak Darji notugna ngomong.
“Yok napa?! Mantuk riyin, tah, kula niki?”
Mbok, ndadak ngene iki sing gak kuwat! Tapine ancene kepala kantor esik enom. Kongkon mbarek duwe karep dadakan ngono iku ya wis biyasa!

Diamput! Ila-ilane katene weruh Borobudhur sepisan maneh! Gremis ngene dilabuhi sepedhahmontoran molih! Ya kebes. Gak papa, mengko balik nyang kantor numpak becak! Langsung aku kandha mbarek Bu Dhe sing dakpondhoki apa perluku molih esuk, kebes. Mbarek tata-tata sandhangan, blesek-blesek mlebu tas rangsel. Sepatu teles. Ganti sepatu simpenan sing esik enyar. Kate nyang luwar kota, harene! Cepetan aé, mergane Pak Darji mau nyusu-nyusu.

Prasaku wis cepet! Becak dakkon mbandhang aé, gak kathik dakenyang. Sik meksa ketilapan! Tekan kantor, gak notut! Kantor wis totup. Diamput! O, iya, sé, Jumat! Tutupe jam sewelas.
“Pak Darji nggih kondur?” takonku mbarek Dul, penjaga kantor. Sik nyapu ngresiki kantor areke.
“O, enggih! Sampiyan kèn tengga mriki dhesik. Anu. Murugi setrine. Dijak pisan teng luwar kota, turene wau.”
Oh, brubah pikiran. Maeng omonge ijen aé!
Diamput! Tiwas kesusu-susu! Omahe juraganku adoh, Rèk, saka kantor! Sing wedok dorung tata-tata! Isok jam siji lagek teka ndhuk kantor!
Nalikane iku aku krungu takhrim. Maca ayat suci ndhuk mejid enyar cedhak kantor. Eling, aku! Iya! Sholat dhesik lak isa! Perlu Rèk, iku! Suwara ayat suci iku ngéthik-éthik ati, koyok ngawe-awe nyeluk aku kon sembahyang!
“Tétip rangsel, nggih, Wak Dul! Kula katene kesah teng mejid riyin. Jumatan!”
Udan dhong terang. Dadi gak kathik mlayu-mlayu. Gak kuwatir kebes maneh. Cumak, sepatuku enyar, mlangkahku kudu pélih-pélih. Dalane jembrot, jemeke nggelani hare. Eman, Rèk, sepatu sik enyar!
Lha iku! Marine sholat, sepatuku ilang! Diamput! Dakteleki mumet gak nemu! Nggelakna! Gak kira ketlesut, lali nggonku ndeleh. Jelas dicolong mbarek tangan jahil, nggrathil, melikan duweke liyan! Diamput! Sepatu enyar, hare, Rèèèkk!! Diamput-oput-oput!
Sidane balik ndhuk kantor, nyèkèr! Getun aku! Lah apa aku maeng kathik ketarik ayat suci barang?! Kathik mampir sholat! Wis genah katene nyang luwar kota, lak pantes sé gak sholat Jumat! Gusti Allah lak maklum-a lek gak disowani Yadiran sakjumatan aé!
“Lho! Saweg mawon Pak Darji mongkur! Rangsel sampiyan pun katut teng jipe. Anu, sing setri wau nyuwun ditumbaske oleh-oleh pelem teng Peken Gentheng! Anake kalih dibeta sedaya. Mengke mriki melih ngampiri sampiyan!” ujare Dul, penjaga kantor.
“Beneran! Kula nyambut kendharakane! Sepatu kula ical teng mejid. Ajenge mendhet sepatu riyin teng griya!” omongku ndhesek. Kesusu. Lha mongsok katene ndhuk Borobudhur nyèkèr aé, Rèk?!
Yamahane Wak Dul dakgawa molih. Ngebut aé. Balapan mbarek sing ndhuk nggone Pasar Gentheng. Wis gak udan maneh, dadi gak kuwatir kebes.
“Lho, Ran! Dorung budhal, Koën, Nak?”
“Dereng, Dhé. Mendhet sepatu! Sepatu kula amblas teng mejid!”
“Lhé, yok apa sé? Mongsok ngguk mesjid ana maling?”
“Nggih saged mawon, Dhé. Wong nalika sholat jemaah sandhal sepatu kedah dicopot teng luwar mejid. Sandhal ting blesar kathah, sepatu kula sing paling bagus. Nggih dicolong kalih tiyang jahat. Lare nggrathil!”
“Mongsok ngguk mejid ana wong jahat…?”
Aah! Kesuwen! Sepatu elek sing kebes mau dakenggo maneh, sret-sret, cepetan . Aku balik nyengklak Yamahane Wak Dul. Werrr!! Buaaanter! Gak preduli rodha mburi nyiprat kabeh ndhuk geger! Sampek ndhuk kantor, jip dorung ketok! Lega! Èh, engatase telek gratisan lunga ndhuk Borobudhur aé, ambegane ngos-ngosan kaya ndhas sepur ireng langsir! Yamaha langsung mlebu plataran kantor! Srrooogg!! Langsung dakoperna mbarek Wak Dul! Areke nyengir!
“O-alaah, sampiyan niku! Pun disosul mriki niki wau. Sareng kula beja sampiyan mendhet sepatu wangsul, langsung Pak Darji murugi sampiyan teng griyane awak sampiyan. Kesusu selak siyang, turene! Selak awan, ngoten criyose sing estri mboten kanti.”
É-alah! Thik apese awakku dina iki!
“Ngga sakniki kula terke mantuk pisan! Kajenge nututi!” omonge Wak Dul sing nunggu kantor. “Kalih dene kula nggih perlu sepedhahmontore, kesah Pandhegiling!”
“Nggih, pun, ngga!” wangsulanku setuju, mbarek nyengklak ngguk mburine Dul sing wis nyetarter Yamahane. Wong Pandhegiling mbarek omahku jurusane padha ngidule saka kantorku. Ya tepak-tepak aé.
“Lhé! Sampiyan sing nyetir! Mongsok ngretos kula griya sampiyan?!”
Ook! Gombal!
Tekan ngomah dipapag mbarek Bu Dhé. “Oo, semalakathak! Pak Darwi maeng ngampiri awak pena mrene, Nak Ran! Kepalamu iku, lho! Dakbejani koën gak ana omah, terus warah lek awak pena ditinggal aé, gak sida melok. Terus katene langsung budhal ndhuk luwar kota aé. Koën worung dijak! Moring-moring Pak Darwi maeng! Katene brangkat isuk-isuk, ndadakna sampek setengah loro esik nguthek ndhuk njero kutha aé!”
Wah, diamput!

Ngono iku critane! Gara-gara katene oleh gratisan telik Borobudhur, sepatu enyar ilang ndhuk mejid! Worung pisan nontok Borobudhur! Diamput gak ilok-ilok!
Esuke, Sabtu, gak enak aku gak mlebu kantor. Apa alasane? Mbarek maneh katene lah apa ndhekem ndhuk omah? Mulakna aku mlebu kantor koyok biyasane!

Totuk kantor, mlebu ruwangan kerja, Pak Ganda menthelengi aku! Pancet aé, Pak Ganda iku, guyone! Ketoke srengen, tapine ngenyek. Aku dipendeliki tapine gak disapa! Ook, koyok lodrug Markesa aé! Marakna aku salah tingkah aé!

“Napaa, Pak? Diteleki Pak Darji melih, tah, kula?” ujarku ngimbangi guyone.
“Sik, tah! Koën iku esik orip?!” takone mbarek ngulu idu. Cleguk, kalamenjinge obah-obah. Esik mentheleng, gak ngguyu, gak mesem. Malah semu mendelik.
“Mbok-alah! Pak Ganda iki, gak enak nemen guyone! Wong genah obah, omong, ambune kringet kecut ngene dianggep gak orip! Ampun ngoten napaa, Paaak-pak! Ambakna dadi kepala makili Pak Darji lagek sedina aé, wis ngono, Rèk, sumbunge!”
“Lho, yok apa, sé?! Kantor iki geger, Ran! Dakkira koën ya katut matek! Koën wingi lak melu Pak Darji luwar kota, tah? Esuk iki mau aku nampa telpun saka pulisi Nganjuk. Jare jipe kantor kene ringsek tabrakan mbarek trek gandheng ndhuk Wilangan! Penumpange matek kabeh! Siji aé gak ana sing orip! Pak Darji sekeluwarga! Termasuk awakmu! Ana tas rangsel nganggo jenengmu, jare pulisi ndhuk telpun mau! Yok apa, sé, iki? Arek-arek sakniki dakkerahna, ngabari keluwargane Pak Darji mbarek menyang omah pondhokanmu…..!”
“Yok napa?! Ah, ampun guyon, ah! Leres tah, jipe Pak Darji kecelakakan?!”
“Sumpah, Ran! Koën iku esik orip temen, tah….?!”
Sanalika aku eling nggonku misuh-misuh merga sepatuku ilang ndhuk mejid. Diamput! Gara-gara mejid enyar! Sakniki gak diamput-diamputan maneh! Jelas, Gusti Allah Mahaagung! Gak gelem digothangi sowane Yadiran sakjumatan aé! Luwih pinter ngatur lelakon! Sakniki aku ngreti maknane suwara ayat suci sing ngawe-awe aku wingi. Lan maknane sepatu enyar ilang! Ya anguran sepatu enyar ilang timbangane nyawa! Wis! Gak isok misuh diamput-diamputan maneh aku! Sepatu ilang ya babahna, pokok nyawaku esik cemanthel ndhuk ati! Diamp….! Anu, syukurlah Alhamdulillah!
***
Jaya Baya, 2 Oktober 1983
Uga dipacak ing buku TREM kumpulan crita cekake Suparto Brata
Penerbit Pustaka Pelajar Yogyakarta, November 2000.

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