Legenda Pasopati (The Legend of Pasopati) adalah cerita rakyat berbahasa Inggris populer di Indonesia. Sehingga wajar saya memasukannya ke dalam salah satu cerita bahasa inggris pilihan. Selamat membaca...
IN THE DAYS of the Hindus, before Mohammedanism had come to Java, there lived on the island a king whose name was Jamojojo. He was so warlike that he counted his battles by the hundreds. He was always in the forefront, armed with a sort of poniard which had something of the shape of a kris, but which wasn't a kris because that weapon had not yet been devised.
The king had never been wounded; and his people whispered that that was because of his weapon, which he always carried in his right hand. It had been given to him by a tapa, a hermit.
"Take good care of it," the old hermit had said at the time, "for if someone ever takes away your weapon, your power will go with it!"
This was known also to the king of the giants, one of Jamojojo's greatest enemies. One night when the great warrior lay sleeping after a victorious battle, the king of the giants with his courtiers and a number of servants suddenly came upon him. The weapon which the king still held in his hand was taken from him, and he himself was bound and carried to one of the underground caverns in the giant's palace.
Now the king, who had been accustomed to liberty, was extremely unhappy. Separated from his beloved wife, he refused all food and drink which was brought to him, and he seldom slept. But on a certain night, as the moon was show ing through the cracks of the dungeon, he fell into a deep sleep. And in his slumber there appeared an angel who said to him:
"Jamojojo, they have taken away your weapon which the old tapa gave you. But in its place you shall receive another weapon, and in a most unusual manner. . . ."
Just as the king was about to ask, "In what manner?" the angel disappeared. Jamojojo thought long over this amazing dream, until one night something even stranger occurred. This time it was not an angel who appeared to him in his dream, but Durga, the beautiful goddess who had once conquered the buffaloes. Durga said to him:
"Jamojojo, someday you shall have a son who will bring you good fortune. Through him you shall acquire a weapon that is better and more beautiful and shaped differently from the poniard which the king of the giants has taken from you."
The king wanted to question her, but the goddess suddenly disappeared.
Jamojojo did not understand anything of his strange dreams. Night and day he pondered over them, wondering about the new weapon which he was to receive as soon as a son was born to him. Because of all his pondering, and because he did not touch the food and drink set before him, Jamojojo grew thin and ill. And the king of the giants, who was not so wicked after all, promised himself that as soon as he had won a battle over one of his enemies he would give Jamojojo his freedom.
This happened sooner than the king of the giants expected, Jamojojo was released from his prison and was permitted to return to his queen and his kingdom, a free man but on one condition: as ransom he must send to the giant all the weapons in his domain. ''Because/' said the giant, 'you must never fight any wars again. There must be peace in your kingdom from now on."
When Jamojojo heard this condition, he bowed his head before his conqueror and promised that, as soon as he reached his own country, all weapons should be delivered to the king of the giants. This promise cost the warrior a mighty struggle, but he loved his freedom above all.
And so it happened that every one of his subjects, from the lowliest Javanese to the highest noble, "brought his weapons to Jamojojo, and they were delivered by the thousands to the palace of the king of the giants.
The last of his subjects to come before him was an old man, the only Mohammedan in Java, who had come from a land over the sea. His name was Pasopati. He laid his weapon at the king's feet and spoke almost the selfsame words of prophecy that Jamojojo had heard several times during his imprisonment.
"My king," said the old man, "we have all had to deliver our weapons to the king of the giants. But fear not, because soon thou shalt have another weapon, better, more beautiful, and entirely different in shape from all other weapons in existence. It is Allah who has so ordained/'
The king and his courtiers laughed at these words. 'Who is this Allah?" asked Jamojojo. "We do not know him/'
"Perhaps he himself is Allah/' mocked one of the nobles.
"Perhaps he has still another weapon hidden!'
The king had the same thought. "We will not let ourselves be deceived by you!" he cried. "Perhaps you have kept back another weapon that you will want to sell us later! Come, bring it here, or else"
But Pasopati shook his head at this accusation. He said that he did not possess any other weapon, and that Allah was not a person and did not live on the earth, but in the heavens.
No one believed him. People called him a deceiver, and he was thrown into one of the underground dungeons of the palace.
And soon no one thought any more of the poor old man in his dark, damp cell until the day a son was born to the queen. The little prince, who was a wonderfully sturdy and handsome child, brought something very strange into the world with him.
It was a little golden kris which hung at his left side on a golden cord.
While the king, the queen, and all the nobles were lost in amazement over this, they suddenly remembered the prophecy which the king had heard in his dreams. They remembered, too, the last prophecy which had been spoken by Pasopati, who at that very moment was imprisoned in the underground dungeon.
"Take Pasopati out of prison immediately” ordered the king, "and bring him here."
But when the grey-haired old man was brought in and wanted to bow down before his king, he was so weak that he fell to the ground, and his eyes closed. Pasopati felt that Allah was calling him, that he was dying. . . . But still he lifted his eyelids once more and looked toward the little prince who lay beside him on his silken cushion.
"It is Allah's will," he whispered, his voice growing weaker with every word. "He came into the world with the golden weapon, the weapon that Allah bestowed on him. But not for fighting shall this weapon serve. . . ." And then his dimming eyes turned toward the king. "My lord, thou and thy people shall make your weapons like this one, and ye shall carry them as a sign that someday ye shall submit to Allah's will. Because Allah is great and mighty and everlastingly good. Learn to know him!"
Hardly had Pasopati said this, when he closed his eyes forever.
And in his sorrow that he had punished the old man who was without guilt, the king called the weapon which his son had brought into the world, "Pasopati."
And that is what the Javanese call the kris to this day, the kris which is made, so they say, like the one with which the young prince came into the world.
The king had never been wounded; and his people whispered that that was because of his weapon, which he always carried in his right hand. It had been given to him by a tapa, a hermit.
"Take good care of it," the old hermit had said at the time, "for if someone ever takes away your weapon, your power will go with it!"
This was known also to the king of the giants, one of Jamojojo's greatest enemies. One night when the great warrior lay sleeping after a victorious battle, the king of the giants with his courtiers and a number of servants suddenly came upon him. The weapon which the king still held in his hand was taken from him, and he himself was bound and carried to one of the underground caverns in the giant's palace.
Now the king, who had been accustomed to liberty, was extremely unhappy. Separated from his beloved wife, he refused all food and drink which was brought to him, and he seldom slept. But on a certain night, as the moon was show ing through the cracks of the dungeon, he fell into a deep sleep. And in his slumber there appeared an angel who said to him:
"Jamojojo, they have taken away your weapon which the old tapa gave you. But in its place you shall receive another weapon, and in a most unusual manner. . . ."
Just as the king was about to ask, "In what manner?" the angel disappeared. Jamojojo thought long over this amazing dream, until one night something even stranger occurred. This time it was not an angel who appeared to him in his dream, but Durga, the beautiful goddess who had once conquered the buffaloes. Durga said to him:
"Jamojojo, someday you shall have a son who will bring you good fortune. Through him you shall acquire a weapon that is better and more beautiful and shaped differently from the poniard which the king of the giants has taken from you."
The king wanted to question her, but the goddess suddenly disappeared.
Jamojojo did not understand anything of his strange dreams. Night and day he pondered over them, wondering about the new weapon which he was to receive as soon as a son was born to him. Because of all his pondering, and because he did not touch the food and drink set before him, Jamojojo grew thin and ill. And the king of the giants, who was not so wicked after all, promised himself that as soon as he had won a battle over one of his enemies he would give Jamojojo his freedom.
This happened sooner than the king of the giants expected, Jamojojo was released from his prison and was permitted to return to his queen and his kingdom, a free man but on one condition: as ransom he must send to the giant all the weapons in his domain. ''Because/' said the giant, 'you must never fight any wars again. There must be peace in your kingdom from now on."
When Jamojojo heard this condition, he bowed his head before his conqueror and promised that, as soon as he reached his own country, all weapons should be delivered to the king of the giants. This promise cost the warrior a mighty struggle, but he loved his freedom above all.
And so it happened that every one of his subjects, from the lowliest Javanese to the highest noble, "brought his weapons to Jamojojo, and they were delivered by the thousands to the palace of the king of the giants.
The last of his subjects to come before him was an old man, the only Mohammedan in Java, who had come from a land over the sea. His name was Pasopati. He laid his weapon at the king's feet and spoke almost the selfsame words of prophecy that Jamojojo had heard several times during his imprisonment.
"My king," said the old man, "we have all had to deliver our weapons to the king of the giants. But fear not, because soon thou shalt have another weapon, better, more beautiful, and entirely different in shape from all other weapons in existence. It is Allah who has so ordained/'
The king and his courtiers laughed at these words. 'Who is this Allah?" asked Jamojojo. "We do not know him/'
"Perhaps he himself is Allah/' mocked one of the nobles.
"Perhaps he has still another weapon hidden!'
The king had the same thought. "We will not let ourselves be deceived by you!" he cried. "Perhaps you have kept back another weapon that you will want to sell us later! Come, bring it here, or else"
But Pasopati shook his head at this accusation. He said that he did not possess any other weapon, and that Allah was not a person and did not live on the earth, but in the heavens.
No one believed him. People called him a deceiver, and he was thrown into one of the underground dungeons of the palace.
And soon no one thought any more of the poor old man in his dark, damp cell until the day a son was born to the queen. The little prince, who was a wonderfully sturdy and handsome child, brought something very strange into the world with him.
It was a little golden kris which hung at his left side on a golden cord.
While the king, the queen, and all the nobles were lost in amazement over this, they suddenly remembered the prophecy which the king had heard in his dreams. They remembered, too, the last prophecy which had been spoken by Pasopati, who at that very moment was imprisoned in the underground dungeon.
"Take Pasopati out of prison immediately” ordered the king, "and bring him here."
But when the grey-haired old man was brought in and wanted to bow down before his king, he was so weak that he fell to the ground, and his eyes closed. Pasopati felt that Allah was calling him, that he was dying. . . . But still he lifted his eyelids once more and looked toward the little prince who lay beside him on his silken cushion.
"It is Allah's will," he whispered, his voice growing weaker with every word. "He came into the world with the golden weapon, the weapon that Allah bestowed on him. But not for fighting shall this weapon serve. . . ." And then his dimming eyes turned toward the king. "My lord, thou and thy people shall make your weapons like this one, and ye shall carry them as a sign that someday ye shall submit to Allah's will. Because Allah is great and mighty and everlastingly good. Learn to know him!"
Hardly had Pasopati said this, when he closed his eyes forever.
And in his sorrow that he had punished the old man who was without guilt, the king called the weapon which his son had brought into the world, "Pasopati."
And that is what the Javanese call the kris to this day, the kris which is made, so they say, like the one with which the young prince came into the world.
Diceritakan Adele Leeuw dalam Indonesian Legends and Folktales
Kembali ke Kumpulan Cerita Legenda Bahasa Inggris
Kembali ke Kumpulan Cerita Legenda Bahasa Inggris
No comments:
Post a Comment