.png)
Poems carry thoughts
expressed in many ways. There are poems that praise objects of nature being the
manifestations of the greatness of God, the Creator. There are also poems that
focus on common man made objects with no less great meaning. To illustrate this
I shall pick up one of my poem originally titled Kuali Hitam, The poem has been translated into
English as A Frying Pan. More translators picked up the English version and turn
it into Spanish, Rusian, French and Japanese.
Kuali Hitam/A Frying Pan
is an example of a poem being expressed through a common object in any kitchen
that is a frying pan. But the thoughts
and message delivered is not only the service of the utensil but a mother’s
love and sacrifices in bringing up her children. The poet says that a frying pan in the
kitchen where she was born was her was her mother’s best friend
The poet remembered
how her mother worked hard in the kitchen and around the house and may be in
the field so that her children have something to eat. Nothing pleased her more
than to see them enjoying their food.
But they were too
young then to see the depth of mother’s sacrifice. They did not
realize that the mother who hugged
them lovingly suffered physically due to exposure to the fire in the kitchen
year after year. The soot and smoke were hurting her eyes. Her skin scraped by
the hot oil. More than that when they
were peacefully snoring at nights the mother could not sleep. They did not hear her coughing till
the early hours since her lungs have been scratched by smoke and ashes.
The poet grew up and live in the city with her modern
kitchen with shiny stainless frying pan /woks. One day the aged mother came and
as usual tried to be as helpful and
useful. The mother cooked and after the meal washed the dishes. This is where
the sad thing happened. The mother scrubbed a pan with a bristle brush the way
she did at home. The poet was alarmed and cried out that the mother has ruined her
costly utensil. The mother looked very
hurt .
A few years later
when her mother has returned to her Lord, the poet was in deep remorse. She
realized her mistakes. How could she
raise her voice to a mother who have gone through such hardship to feed
them. How could she have valued a
cooking utensil more than a mother’s love.
A FRYING PAN
A frying pan in the
kitchen
of the house where I
was born
Was my mother’s best
friend
All day long
The frying pan
And something being
fried
For the children with
appetite
Was my mother’s
delight
The frying pan
Days and nights
On the fire
We did not count the
years.
The mother who cared
for the frying pan
Hugged us lovingly
did we look and
realize
there was soot in her
eyes
feel her skin scraped
by the hot fries
her hand darken by
smoke
her forehead touched
by the heat
we were too sleepy
after heavy meals
to hear her coughing,
her rough breathing
her painful chest
being scratched
by smoke and ashes
we were not aware
and mother did not
care
she only knew the joy
of making us happy
eating with appetite
and nothing pleased
her more
than to see us
satisfied
That’s what happened
year after year
the frying pan
fulfilled its duty
until we were grown
up and lived in the city.
(2)
And now in my modern
kitchen
There is no ugly
black frying pan
Whenever I have time
to spare
And that is very rare
I cook for my
children
In my non-stick
stainless steel frying pan
Shining and expensive
And after meal I wash
it carefully
almost like bathing a
baby
With special soft
detergent
Following every
instruction
One day my mother
came to stay
As usual make herself useful
Cooked and serve my
family
Her grandchildren
enjoyed her cooking
And mother was very
happy
After the meal
She helped me tidy my kitchen
And as she used to do
To her frying pan
Scrubbed my expensive
utensil
With a bristle brush
At once I cried
“you have ruined my frying pan
Do you know how much
it cost?”
My mum looked very
hurt
There were a few
tears
I must have looked
very fierce.
(3)
And now my mum has
returned to her Lord
Leaving me in deep
remorse
Regretting the way I
valued a cooking utensil
Much more than a
mother’s love
My mother is no
longer here
Hanging lonely on the
wall of our old kitchen
Is the frying pan of
her life
Can we give it a price
KUALI HITAM
Sebiji kuali hitam
di dapur
rumah kelahiran
adalah
teman ibuku
siang dan malam
Sebiji kuali hitam
terjerang
di atas tungku
adalah
penghibur ibu
ketika
kami menunggu
Sebiji kuali hitam
di atas
api siang dan malam
tahun
demi tahun
kami tidak pernah menghitung
Seorang
ibu yang menyayangi sebiji kuali
sering
memeluk kami
pernahkah kami perhatikan
matanya
yang ditikam serbuk arang
kulitnya
yang dikoyak percikan minyak
lengannya
yang diserap abu hitam
dahinya yang disengat pucuk api
kami
hanya tahu lena kekenyangan
ketika
tidur ibu diketuk-ketuk
oleh lelah dan batuk
setelah
asap dan abu menggaru-garu
di
paru-paru
Kami tidak pernah menyedari
dan ibu pun tidak peduli
dia hanya tahu merasa bahagia
melihat kami keriangan
menunggu sesuatu akan terhidang
dan tidak ada yang lebih membahagiakan
dari melihat kami kekenyangan
Begitulah tahun demi tahun
kuali
yang setia menjalankan tugasnya
hingga
kami dewasa dan hidup di kota
(2)
Kini di
dapur rumahku yang bersih
tak ada
kuali hitam yang hodoh
cuma
pada kesempatan
yang tidak selalu sempat
aku
memasak untuk anak-anak
dengan
kuali non-stick
yang tebal dan mahal
dan sesudah itu membasuhnya
dengan sabun yang lembut
berhati-hati
seperti memandikan bayi
mengikut
arahan pada buku panduan
Suatu hari ibu ke rumahku
dengan
kerajinannya yang biasa
memasak
untuk kami sekeluarga
cucu-cucunya
ternyata amat berselera
dan ibu
merasa terlalu bahagia
Dan sesudah itu
dengan cara yang dia tahu
mengemas
dan merapikan dapurku
dan
seperti yang biasa dibuat
pada
kualinya di kampung
dia
menyental kualiku yang mahal
dengan
berus yang kesat
dan spontan aku menjerit
"Ibu merosakkan kuali saga
tahukah ibu berapa harganya?"
Ibu terdiam
barangkali hatinya terguris
barangkali
dia hampir menangis
melihat
wajahku yang bengis
(3)
Dan kini
setelah ibu kembali kepada Ilahi
aku menyesali keterlanjuran
kiranya
aku telah mengukur kasih sayang ibu
dengan
harga sebiji kuali
Ibu telah tiada
kuali
hitam tergantung sepi
di
dinding dapur rumah tua
bolehkah
kami menghitung
berapa
harganya
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18144823-menghadap-ke-pelabuhan
| |||||||||||||||||||||
No comments:
Post a Comment