Akhirnya Karsim Menyeberang Jalan
At Last, Karsim Crossed the Road
Ahmad Thohari
When the news of his death was announced through the mosque loudspeaker, Karsim was spellbound.
He stood in awe because everything had changed.
He was certain that his eyes now beheld the world with a clarity he had never known before. Everything seemed brighter, more vivid, more real. The leaves glowed with a greener green. Flowers shimmered with an uncanny radiance. The yellow blossoms of the hibiscus burned with a deeper, more brilliant gold.
Everything had become more—though Karsim could not find the word for it.
The children appeared to move wrapped in garments of light. So did the cats, the goats, the birds, the rats, and every other living thing.
Even Old Woman Painah, who never finished her breakfast because she always saved a portion for her beloved rooster, had become extraordinarily beautiful.
After the announcement of his death echoed from the mosque loudspeaker, Karsim found that he could hear the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. The dripping water from the ablution tap that never closed properly also reached his ears. Each drop rang out crystal-clear, chiming delicately through space.
It was profoundly moving.
His nose caught the fragrance of a newborn’s breath.
Yet there were no babies among the people gathered below, tending to his corpse while he floated above them.
Then Karsim remembered.
Tursem, who lived in a humble hut on the far bank of the river, had given birth only yesterday.
Yesterday.
That was where it had all begun.
Yesterday Karsim had intended to cross the highway and continue on to his rice plot by the river.
He owned no land of his own—not even a patch the size of a footprint.
But during the dry season, when the river receded, a few fathoms of fertile silt would emerge along its banks, and there he planted rice.
It was three days before Eid.
The highway was unimaginably crowded with vehicles, especially those coming from the west.
Crossing it was no simple matter.
His eyesight had begun to fail.
Three times he had attempted to cross, and three times he had failed.
Each time he stepped forward, he was forced to retreat in haste.
Car horns and motorcycle horns barked at him in angry chorus.
The faces behind the steering wheels were the faces of kings of the road.
Faces bearing every emblem of urban life: fierce individualism, indulgence, greed, and an overwhelming desire to display oneself.
To show off.
Ah, but Karsim knew that showing off was important.
He had once heard a puppet master say as much during a wayang performance.
And so Karsim yielded.
He waited patiently, hoping for an opportunity to cross.
His consciousness as a poor villager had always been one of acceptance.
"Those who command this highway must surely be the true people of consequence," he thought. "As for me, I am merely Karsim, who possesses only a tiny patch of land beside the river—and even that only during the dry season."
He understood why they hurried.
They were going home for Eid.
To kneel before their parents.
To visit graves.
To reunite with loved ones.
To indulge in longing and remembrance.
All these things were important.
Necessary.
And showing off was important as well.
Beneath the increasingly merciless sun, Karsim continued to wait.
Fortunately, the bamboo hat upon his head shielded him from the worst of the heat.
Yet his head still throbbed.
Perhaps from the endless roar of thousands of vehicles rushing past him without pause.
Or perhaps because he knew he had to cross.
His rice needed him.
The grain heads were already full.
Hundreds of sparrows would soon descend upon them.
If left unguarded, they would devour everything growing on that tiny patch of land.
Suddenly Karsim felt as though a whip had cracked behind him.
His mind filled with the image of countless sparrows stripping the grain from his rice stalks.
He saw his wife and children once more forced to survive on cassava because the harvest they had awaited so desperately had vanished into the bellies of birds.
A command pierced the depths of his heart.
Cross.
The command came from a plate of rice that needed saving.
"Father Sky, Mother Earth, I am crossing," Karsim resolved.
He stepped forward.
Within half a second, he was crushed beneath a vehicle.
For another half-second he could still hear screams, the screech of brakes, and the crashing of colliding cars.
Then everything changed.
He became weightless.
Floating.
Silence.
Stillness.
Karsim drifted above the highway.
He watched people lift his broken body from amidst dozens of vehicles that had come to a chaotic halt.
Cries of horror filled the air.
Laments.
Anger.
Even curses.
All of it unfolding on the highway, three days before Eid.
Karsim did not follow the body that was carried back to his home, which stood some distance from the highway.
Yet he could see its entire journey perfectly.
His eyes now penetrated everything.
And everything appeared before him without distance.
Then the mosque loudspeaker announced the news:
“Our brother Karsim passed away peacefully today at eleven forty-five in the morning. His burial will take place at four o’clock this afternoon.”
Not even a minute later, someone remarked,
“Crushed beneath a car until his intestines spilled out—and they call that a peaceful death?”
Hearing this with startling clarity, Karsim burst into laughter.
But the people washing and tending his body did not react in the slightest.
They could not hear him.
Only Old Woman Painah’s rooster suddenly crowed.
The very rooster for whom she never finished her breakfast.
Karsim watched as his broken body, split open at the abdomen, was bathed with great care.
His wife wept.
At times she doubled over and vomited.
The faces around her struggled to conceal their horror—or perhaps their disgust.
His body was wrapped in a white shroud.
Lifted.
Placed inside a bier.
Prayed over.
With profound serenity Karsim watched the bier carrying his remains emerge from the house.
Many people accompanied it.
Among them was Old Woman Painah, who had once again left part of her breakfast for her rooster.
For the past two or three days the highway had been extraordinarily crowded, especially with vehicles coming from the west.
The faces behind the steering wheels and handlebars had been hard and tense.
Faces carrying all the symbols of urban life.
Faces determined always to win.
To prevail.
To claim the road for themselves.
But everything softened the moment Karsim’s bier reached the roadside.
A young man stepped forward and raised a yellow flag.
Instantly every vehicle—from east and west alike—came to a halt.
Brakes screamed.
Cars bumped into one another.
An anxious woman hurriedly opened her handbag and scattered banknotes into the air.
Children—and even adults who had been accompanying Karsim’s funeral procession—forgot themselves and scrambled after the money.
Yet the bier continued forward.
Though it swayed dangerously, for even some of its bearers found themselves tempted by the fluttering currency.
Karsim laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed until he was satisfied.
The absurdity of it all delighted him.
Only that morning he had tried repeatedly to cross this very same highway.
The motorists and drivers, bearing all those emblems of urban pride, had refused him even the smallest opportunity.
Karsim understood.
Going home for Eid was important.
Showing off was important too.
But surely they could have spared him a moment.
A single moment.
A chance to save his rice field from the hundreds of sparrows devouring it.
And yet now things were different.
Now their faces had changed.
Now they halted their vehicles immediately.
Because Karsim wished to cross the road.
Or rather—
Because Karsim’s corpse wished to cross the road.
In less than five minutes the bier and its mourners had reached the other side.
Karsim smiled.
For the first time in his life—through all sixty-nine years of it, until death overtook him that afternoon—he felt acknowledged.
Recognized.
Seen.
And now he finally understood.
If he wished his existence to be acknowledged, he first had to lie inside a bier and be carried toward a grave.
The thousands of vehicles clogging the highway resumed their movement.
Karsim remained silent, watching.
Enjoying the spectacle.
Then he became fascinated by the sight of a baby squeezed between its father and mother on a motorcycle returning home for Eid.
The baby's older sibling sat hunched in front of the father, serving as a shield against the rushing wind.
Yet both children were encircled by a pale bluish halo.
Protected by a ring of light.
They seemed almost divine.
And despite the discomfort of the journey, the mother still found time to tap away at the buttons of her mobile phone.
Karsim was astonished again when he saw a luxurious car driven by a female monkey.
Beside her sat a fat man.
Not merely wearing the mask of a rat.
No.
He wore the face of a wild boar.
Karsim shook his head.
Soon he realized that many of the luxury cars passing before him were occupied by creatures wearing strange masks:
Boars.
Wolves.
Macaques.
Monkeys.
One after another.
Endlessly.
At last he grew weary of watching them.
He fell silent.
He wished instead to savor his new condition.
Now he could see everything more clearly.
Hear everything more truthfully.
Distance no longer existed for him.
Nor did time.
Life itself had become more alive than life.
And at long last he had received what was rightfully his:
The right to cross the great crowded highway
three days before Eid.
List Kosakata:
| No. | Vocabulary | Arti Bahasa Indonesia |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Spellbound | Terpukau, terpesona |
| 2 | Vivid | Jelas, hidup, sangat nyata |
| 3 | Shimmered | Berkilau, berpendar |
| 4 | Radiance | Cahaya yang memancar, sinar |
| 5 | Fluttering | Kepakan (sayap), gerakan berdebar |
| 6 | Delicately | Dengan lembut, halus |
| 7 | Humble | Sederhana, rendah hati |
| 8 | Yielded | Mengalah, menyerah |
| 9 | Merciless | Kejam, tanpa belas kasihan |
| 10 | Devour | Melahap, menghabiskan |
| 11 | Pierced | Menembus, menghunjam |
| 12 | Weightless | Tanpa bobot, ringan seperti melayang |
| 13 | Serenity | Ketenangan, kedamaian batin |
| 14 | Acknowledged | Diakui, dihargai keberadaannya |
| 15 | Spectacle | Pemandangan yang menarik, tontonan |
Kosakata Tingkat Lanjut (Advanced Vocabulary)
| Vocabulary | Arti Bahasa Indonesia |
|---|---|
| Absurdity | Keabsurdan, sesuatu yang konyol |
| Mourners | Para pelayat |
| Shroud | Kain kafan |
| Corpse | Mayat, jenazah |
| Lament | Ratapan, keluh kesah |
| Companion | Pendamping, teman |
| Penetrate | Menembus |
| Extraordinarily | Luar biasa |
| Halo | Lingkaran cahaya |
| Divine | Ilahi, bersifat ketuhanan |
Contoh Penggunaan dalam Kalimat
Spellbound
The audience sat spellbound throughout the performance.
(Para penonton duduk terpukau sepanjang pertunjukan.)Radiance
The radiance of the sunrise filled the valley.
(Cahaya matahari terbit memenuhi lembah.)Devour
The birds devoured the farmer's crops overnight.
(Burung-burung melahap tanaman petani dalam semalam.)Serenity
He found serenity in the quiet countryside.
(Ia menemukan ketenangan di pedesaan yang sunyi.)Acknowledged
She finally felt acknowledged for her hard work.
(Ia akhirnya merasa diakui atas kerja kerasnya.)
Frasa Sastra yang Menarik dari Terjemahan
| Frasa | Arti |
|---|---|
| wrapped in garments of light | diselimuti cahaya |
| weightless and floating | ringan dan melayang |
| profound serenity | kedamaian yang mendalam |
| a ring of light | lingkaran cahaya |
| more alive than life itself | lebih hidup daripada kehidupan itu sendiri |
Kosakata-kosakata ini tergolong intermediate hingga advanced literary English, sangat cocok untuk memperkaya kemampuan membaca cerpen, novel, dan esai sastra berbahasa Inggris.
