The Ocean, the Father, and the Daughter
Feby Indirani
Translated into English by Sebastian Partogi
© Dewi Candraningrum, “Digendong Ayah”
[The Ocean]
I am vast and boundless. Open and accepting. Embracing all. When that slender body squirms, stretches and wriggles, I stretch myself as wide as I can to embrace her. I am ready to receive any sorrows, regrets or aspirations.
I am ready to wash away all kinds of mortal existence.
The Daughter keeps on sinking, even deeper.
[The Father]
Being the father of a girl is a huge responsibility from Allah. Every moment feels like tiptoeing along a bridge as thin as a strand of your hair, with a ravine below. If I am not careful enough, she could easily slip onto the wrong path. Then she will drag me along to hell. Nauzubillah.
I don’t like to perceive daughters as burdens, since it has been my fate to beget a daughter. Yet I can understand why during the jahiliah period a long time ago some people buried them alive, nauzubillah. Obviously they couldn’t bear so large a responsibility. Having a daughter is akin to possessing a gem. A lot of men out there are on the hunt for them.
Masya Allah, how heavy is a daughter’s father’s responsibility. You know why? Women carry the wombs which will bear the next generations, a very noble duty indeed. Women are the torchbearers of human civilization, thus they need the best protection we can give them.
Like a gem, every inch of a woman’s body is beautiful, and therefore needs protecting. Not to be displayed in front of people who don’t deserve to see it. That’s what’s at stake when we talk about a woman’s dignity. Thus, as her father, I should protect her dignity, before her husband takes my place.
Soon, in the afterlife, I will be held accountable for my actions before Allah. Any sins and mistakes my wife and daughter have made will drag me into a fiery hell full of torture. Nauzubillah.
As my daughter has grown older, I have often scolded her for dressing inappropriately. Yet her mother has defended her: let her experience joy like other teenagers. No need to restrict her so much. We have often quarrelled due to our disagreements on how our daughter is supposed to dress, and her activities outside the house. Perhaps my wife has forgotten that her beloved daughter is also capable of dragging her to hell. Nauzubillah.
[The Daughter]
The ocean is my home... I always feel calm near the ocean. It feels as if all my problems have been solved, just like that, without me having to do anything! Everything feels light and my anger vanishes... My father’s conservative attitude, my mother’s ineffectiveness, the teacher who gives me poor grades, my friend who disappointed me, my cheating boyfriend—they don’t seem to matter anymore once I’m with the ocean...
I often fantasize about travelling the world, covering as many places as I can, by ocean. My boyfriend once promised to travel the world with me. Yes, that was what he promised before turning away and cheating on me with my best friend! Damn both of them... I still have to restrain myself whenever I pass by. I’ll show them. Just wait. It’s just a few months before I graduate, and then I’ll depart to attend university in a foreign country, far away, leaving them in this city to rot... I can hardly wait for that moment to come, the moment when I will get a chance to get away from home and discover new things...
This is all thanks to Aunty, who is willing to accommodate me in her home. Otherwise, Father would never give me permission to live away from him... But he believes that his sister will supervise me. Meanwhile I’ve seen Aunty winking at me behind his back. That moment, I realized, I could rely on her not to report back to Father no matter what I did...
[The Father]
A year after the incident, I can still hear her laughter.
This was supposed to be her first year at university, and she would have come home once in a while. Maybe she would have worn her headscarf more loosely, showing stands of hair here and there. And I would have scolded her, and if she had talked back, then her mother would have stopped our quarrel as usual. Then all the fuss would have ended at the dinner table. That holiday would have felt exceptionally brief, because we might have spent more than half our time disagreeing on anything we could, and without knowing it, she would have had to rush back to school.
For a long time now, I’ve never had any idea why time felt so short whenever I was with her. It seemed like it was just yesterday when I cradled her tiny body and recited the adzan in her ear. She was red, with stiff black hair, wriggling with her eyes shut while crying heart-wrenchingly as if she wanted to show the world just how strong her lungs were. Then time passed by so quickly, and all of a sudden she was about to graduate from high school. And she was so witty that she could talk back at me. This didn’t make my duty as the father of a girl any easier.
I would remind her to keep her ego in check, because otherwise, no man would stand being her husband. But she would say, “Father, Aisyah, the Rasullullah’s wife was very smart and articulate when it came to debating... Yet she married the best man of all—Allah’s messenger... Why can’t I be like her?” Once she started doing that, I would find it hard to counter her arguments, and she would chuckle victoriously.
Now, a year after the incident, every day, I can sense the sound of her chuckle. Even inside this prison cell, it has been the only sound I’ve been able to hear. Yet every evening, without fail, flashes of the incident keep appearing in my dreams—those seconds when she started to drown, disappearing from view.
“Whatever your excuse, you have murdered our daughter!” That was my wife’s final sentence before I disappeared into the prison’s tall walls. That was the last time I saw her.
Perhaps my wife saw me as a cruel father. Even the judge decided to punish me. I couldn’t care less about what other mortals think of me. I care about only Allah’s judgment. If I did make one mistake, it was not being able to swim. That was all. Yet I allowed my daughter to swim, in line with the Prophet’s guidance. I had done everything I could to be the best father. Yet now my own wife has humiliated me, simply because I didn’t have the heart to allow strange men to touch my daughter’s body!
Why weren’t there any female lifeguards? It was they who were supposed to rescue my daughter, not these men.
Indeed, I blocked the men who were running , attempting to save my daughter from drowning. I swore by Allah, I would never let the men touch her body, her honor, which I would protect with all my might. Weren’t they afraid of the fiery tongues of Hell?
Death is far nobler than the burning heat of Hell’s fire. Life on Earth isn’t meant to be forever, yet the afterlife will be eternal. And I don’t want to be trapped forever inside Hell’s horrific heat. Let me bear any pain I have to endure now. Everything will pass away as this Earth is only temporary. And as with a nightmare, I will be awakened later, when I am dead. I will reunite with my daughter, in that exalted heaven. Insya Allah.
[The Daughter]
Do you know why I really enjoy swimming? Among other reasons, so I can cry, without anyone knowing...
It turns out, I am still wounded whenever I see the two of them, holding hands intimately without any shame... Two traitors whom I’ll never forgive for the rest of my life. My heart aches so badly... But I cannot tell anyone this, let alone my father and mother... They will only blame me, having stupidly agreed to be his girlfriend... Yes, I have been blinded by love... And the world must not know just how stupid I am. The ocean is the only place where I can lament... The ocean is listening, the ocean which knows all secrets. Once I am inside the ocean, I can pour out all my emotions.
Ouch, there’s a cramp in my thigh! Ouch, it hurts... Father... Help... Help... Help... Father... help. Fath...
[The Ocean]
I am vast and boundless. Open and receiving. Embracing all. When that slender body squirms, stretches and wriggles, I stretch myself as wide as I can to embrace her. I am ready to receive any sorrows, regrets or aspirations.
I am ready to undo all kinds of mortal existence.
The Daughter keeps on sinking, even deeper.
She’s in my embrace, for eternity.
LAUT, AYAH, DAN PUTRI
Feby Indirani
[Laut]
Aku luas dan tak berbatas. Terbuka dan menerima. Merengkuh seluruh. Ketika tubuh ramping itu menggeliat, meregang dan meronta, kubentangkan pelukanku seluas-luasnya. Aku siap menerima lara, sesal, asa.
Aku siap menghapus segala ada.
Sang Putri terbenam, semakin dalam.
[Ayah]
Menjadi ayah dari anak perempuan adalah amanat sangat besar dari Allah. Setiap saat seperti meniti jembatan setipis rambut, sementara di bawah sana adalah jurang. Bila kurang berhati-hati, dia akan mudah tergelincir ke jalan yang salah, lalu dia pun akan ikut menyeretku ke neraka. Nauzubillah.
Aku tak ingin berpikir bahwa anak perempuan adalah beban, karena memang sudah takdirku pula memperoleh anak perempuan. Tapi aku bisa memahami kenapa di zaman jahiliah dulu sebagian orang mengubur anak perempuan, Nauzubillah, tentu karena mereka tak sanggup menanggung tanggung jawab sedemikian besar. Memiliki anak perempuan ibarat memiliki permata, banyak pria di luar sana yang akan mengincarnya.
Masya Allah, memang berat sekali tanggung jawab seorang ayah dari anak perempuan. Tahu kenapa? Karena perempuan memiliki rahim yang akan melahirkan generasi berikutnya, suatu tugas yang amat mulia. Perempuan adalah penerus peradaban umat manusia, maka ia harus dijaga sebaik-baiknya.
Ibarat permata, setiap inci dari tubuh perempuan itu indah dan harus dilindungi. Tidak untuk diperlihatkan kepada orang-orang yang tidak berhak. Itulah pertaruhan harga diri seorang perempuan. Karena itu sebagai ayahnya aku harus menjaga harga dirinya, sebelum nantinya tanggung jawab itu akan diambil alih oleh suaminya. Dan di akhirat nanti, aku harus mempertanggungjawabkan segalanya di hadapan Allah. Apa pun dosa dan kesalahan istri dan anakku akan ikut menyeretku ke neraka yang membara dan penuh siksa. Nauzubillah.
Ketika putriku bertambah dewasa, sering kumarahi jika dia berpakaian tak sepantasnya. Tapi ibunya membelanya, biarkanlah dia bergembira seperti umumnya remaja. Jangan kaubatasi dirinya sedemikian rupa. Sering kami jadi bertengkar gara-gara tak sependapat tentang bagaimana putri kami sebaiknya berpakaian dan berkegiatan di luar rumah. Mungkin istriku lupa, putri kesayangannya itu bisa menyeretnya juga ke neraka. Nauzubillah.
[Putri]
Laut adalah rumahku. Aku selalu merasa tenang jika berdekatan dengan laut. Sepertinya semua persoalanku selesai begitu saja, tanpa aku perlu melakukan apa pun! Semua jadi terasa ringan dan kemarahanku sirna! Kekolotan ayahku, kelembekan ibuku, guru yang memberikan nilai jelek, teman yang mengecewakan, pacar yang selingkuh, semua itu seolah tak penting lagi bila aku sudah bersama laut.
Aku sering berkhayal keliling dunia sebisanya dengan menempuh perjalanan laut. Pacarku pernah berjanji akan melakukan perjalanan keliling dunia bersamaku. Iya, ia berjanji begitu sebelum berpaling dan memacari sahabatku sendiri! Persetan mereka berdua! Aku masih harus menahan diri jika kebetulan harus berpapasan dengan mereka. Yah, bersabarlah. Hanya beberapa bulan lagi sebelum lulus, dan aku akan berangkat kuliah ke negeri lain, jauh dari mereka yang akan membusuk di kota ini. Tak sabar rasanya aku menanti saat itu, saat aku akan berada jauh dari rumah dan bertualang menemui hal-hal baru.
Terima kasih kepada Bibi yang mau menampungku di rumahnya. Jika tidak, Ayah tak mungkin memberi izinku untuk hidup jauh darinya. Tapi ia percaya adiknya itu akan mengawasiku. Sementara kulihat Bibi mengedipkan matanya kepadaku di belakang punggungnya. Saat itu juga aku tahu, aku pasti bisa mengandalkannya untuk tidak mengadukan apa pun kelakuanku pada Ayah.
[Ayah]
Setahun setelah peristiwa itu, aku masih merasa sering mendengar tawanya.
Seharusnya ini adalah tahun pertamanya kuliah, dan dia akan pulang ke rumah setelah beberapa waktu lamanya. Mungkin kerudungnya akan menjadi lebih pendek dengan rambut yang tersembul di sana-sini, dan aku akan mengomelinya, dan dia akan membantah, kemudian ibunya akan melerai seperti biasa, lalu semua keributan akan berakhir saat kami duduk di meja makan. Liburan itu akan terasa sangat singkat, karena kami mungkin akan menghabiskan lebih dari separuh waktu untuk berbantahan tentang apa saja, dan tahu-tahu dia sudah harus kembali ke tempatnya kuliah.
Sejak dulu, aku tidak tahu kenapa waktu terasa begitu singkat bersamanya. Rasanya baru kemarin aku menggendong tubuhnya yang amat kecil dan melantunkan azan di telinganya. Dia merah, dengan rambut hitam kaku, menggeliat-geliat dengan mata tertutup, sambil menangis keras seolah hendak membuktikan kekuatan paru-parunya kepada dunia. Lalu waktu berjalan begitu cepat, dan tiba-tiba dia sudah akan lulus SMA, dan pintar mendebat kata-kataku. Sungguh tidak membuat tugasku sebagai ayah dari seorang anak perempuan menjadi lebih mudah.
Aku akan mengingatkannya untuk menjaga egonya, karena jika tidak, tak akan ada laki-laki yang bakal betah menjadi suaminya. Tapi dia akan bilang, “Ayah, Aisyah istri Rasullullah pintar dan pandai berdebat! Tapi dia toh menikahi laki-laki terbaik utusan Allah! Kenapa aku tidak bisa seperti dia?” Kalau sudah begitu, aku sulit membantahnya dan dia akan terkekeh dengan penuh kemenangan.
Kini, setahun setelah peristiwa itu, setiap hari, aku masih sering merasa mendengar tawanya. Bahkan di dalam sel penjara ini, hanya itu sajalah yang selalu kudengar. Sedangkan setiap malam, kejadian itu selalu berulang di dalam mimpiku, detik-detik ketika ia mulai terbenam, menghilang dari pandangan.
“Apa pun alasannya, kau sudah membunuh anak kita!” Itulah kalimat terakhir istriku kepadaku sebelum aku masuk ke balik tembok tinggi penjara. Itulah terakhir kali aku melihatnya.
Mungkin istriku berpikir aku ayah yang kejam. Bahkan hakim pun memutuskan menghukumku. Aku tidak peduli apa pandangan manusia terhadapku. Aku hanya peduli pada penilaian Allah. Kalaupun ada satu-satunya kesalahanku, adalah aku tidak bisa berenang. Itu saja. Tapi aku membiarkan anakku belajar berenang sebagaimana tuntunan Nabi. Aku sudah melakukan segalanya yang kumampu untuk menjadi ayah yang terbaik. Tapi sekarang istriku sendiri menistaku karena aku tidak rela membiarkan ada laki-laki asing menyentuh tubuh putriku!
Kenapa mereka tidak mempekerjakan penjaga pantai perempuan? Seharusnya merekalah yang menolong putriku, bukan para lelaki itu.
Memang kuhalangi para lelaki itu yang berlari hendak menyelamatkan putriku. Demi Allah, aku tidak mungkin rela membiarkan tangan-tangan para lelaki itu menjamah tubuhnya, yang kehormatannya kulindungi dengan segenap daya upaya. Apakah mereka tidak takut dengan jilatan api neraka?
Kematian lebih mulia daripada panasnya api neraka. Hidup di dunia ini tidak kekal, tapi akhirat akan abadi. Dan aku tidak mau terjebak selamanya di dalam panasnya neraka yang mengerikan itu. Biarlah kutanggungkan apa pun rasa sakit ini sekarang. Semuanya akan segera berlalu, karena dunia ini hanya sementara. Dan seolah dari mimpi buruk, aku akan terbangun dari kehidupan ini ketika aku mati nanti. Aku akan bertemu kembali dengan putriku, di surga yang mulia. Insya Allah.
[Putri]
Tahukah kau kenapa aku suka sekali berenang? Antara lain adalah karena aku bisa menangis, tanpa seorang pun perlu tahu.
Aku ternyata masih terluka menyaksikan mereka berdua, bergandengan tangan dengan mesra, tanpa rasa malu sama sekali! Dua orang pengkhianat yang tak akan kumaafkan seumur hidupku. Hatiku sungguh sakit! Tapi aku tidak bisa menceritakannya kepada siapa-siapa, apalagi Ayah dan Ibu. Mereka akan menyalahkanku, karena aku dengan bodohnya mau berpacaran dengannya. Ya, aku memang terbodohi cinta! Dan dunia tidak boleh tahu betapa bodohnya aku. Hanya kepada laut aku bisa mengadu. Laut mendengarkan, laut yang tahu segala rahasia. Selagi kuberada di dalam laut, kucurahkan segala perasaanku.
Aduh, kenapa betisku keram begini? Aduh, sakit! Ayah! Tolong! Tolong! Tolong…. Ayah… tolong.. Ay….
[Laut]
Aku luas dan tak berbatas. Terbuka dan menerima. Merengkuh seluruh. Aku siap menerima segala lara, sesal, asa. Menampung segala rahasia.
Tubuh ramping itu menggeliat, meregang, dan meronta. Kubentangkan pelukanku seluas-luasnya. Aku siap merangkul segala ada.
Sang Putri terbenam, semakin dalam.
Kupeluk ia dalam keabadian.
FEBY INDIRANI is an author and media practitioner. She has published several fiction and nonfiction books, among others Made in Prison (2017), Alien Itu Memilihku (2014), I Can (Not) Hear (2018), Clara’s Medal (2011), and Bukan Perawan Maria (2011). She used to work in several national media, such as Tempo, Business Week Indonesia, and Kompas TV. She initiated the movement Relaksasi Beragama (Relax, It’s Just Religion) to campaign for openmindedness in practicing religion and to foster empathy towards others who have different religious interpretations. She currently studies and lives in the UK. The short story above is part of an upcoming short story collection titled Memburu Muhammad.
SEBASTIAN PARTOGI has been working as a reporter and copywriter for Indonesia's English language daily The Jakarta Post since 2013. He has translated novels by Ratih Kumala, Djenar Maesa Ayu, and Sindhunata. Translating literary works have helped him apply the English language skills he has acquired as a journalist for the greater good.
DEWI CANDRANINGRUM is the founder of Jejer Wadon and a lecturer of gender, literature, and ecology. She graduated from Monash University and Universitaet Muenster. In her spare time she paints with her autistic son Ivan Ufuq Isfahan.
THIS SHORT STORY IS PUBLISHED AS PART OF INTERSASTRA’S UNREPRESSED SERIES.