The Green Bag That Walked

The Larkspur Hostel had one rule that nobody could explain. A hand-painted sign in the common room said, "Please leave the green bag where it is." The bag was big and old, with a leather handle and a zip that would not move.

Wisma Larkspur punya satu aturan yang tidak bisa dijelaskan siapa pun. Sebuah papan tulisan tangan di ruang bersama berbunyi, "Mohon biarkan tas hijau itu di tempatnya." Tas itu besar dan tua, dengan pegangan kulit dan ritsleting yang tidak mau bergerak.

Uri saw the sign on his first evening. He was sixteen, and he had come with five classmates on a walking trip. Their teacher had gone to bed early. The others were playing cards at the long table. Uri sat by the window with a bowl of noodles and watched the room.

Uri melihat papan itu pada malam pertamanya. Ia berusia enam belas tahun, dan datang bersama lima teman sekelas untuk perjalanan jalan kaki. Guru mereka sudah tidur lebih awal. Yang lain bermain kartu di meja panjang. Uri duduk di dekat jendela dengan semangkuk mi dan memperhatikan ruangan.

It took him less than ten minutes to notice the pattern. Every guest who walked past the bag stopped and looked at it. Then they bent down and pulled the zip. A tall man in walking boots pulled it with both hands. Two girls pulled it together and giggled. A boy tried to open it with a spoon. The zip never moved, and everyone shrugged and went away.

Tidak sampai sepuluh menit ia sudah melihat polanya. Setiap tamu yang lewat di dekat tas itu berhenti dan menatapnya. Lalu mereka membungkuk dan menarik ritsletingnya. Seorang pria jangkung bersepatu gunung menariknya dengan kedua tangan. Dua gadis menariknya bersama-sama sambil terkikik. Seorang anak laki-laki mencoba membukanya dengan sendok. Ritsleting itu tidak pernah bergerak, dan semua orang mengangkat bahu lalu pergi.

"Does that happen every night?" Uri asked the boy behind the reception desk.

"Apa ini terjadi setiap malam?" tanya Uri kepada anak laki-laki di balik meja resepsionis.

The boy was about seventeen, with ink on his fingers and a name tag that said Adel. "Every night," he said. "My family has owned this place for twelve years. The bag came with the building."

Anak itu berusia sekitar tujuh belas tahun, dengan noda tinta di jari dan tanda nama bertuliskan Adel. "Setiap malam," katanya. "Keluargaku sudah memiliki tempat ini selama dua belas tahun. Tas itu sudah ada bersama bangunannya."

"Did anyone ever open it?"

"Pernah ada yang berhasil membukanya?"

"Not once. Some people bring pliers." Adel shrugged. "It is only a bag."

"Tidak sekali pun. Ada yang membawa tang." Adel mengangkat bahu. "Itu cuma tas."

Uri went to bed in a room with five bunks and slept badly. Around midnight, he woke up thirsty and crept downstairs to fill his bottle. The common room was dark, except for the small lamp on the reception desk. Adel was asleep in a chair with a book on his chest.

Uri tidur di kamar dengan lima ranjang susun dan tidurnya tidak nyenyak. Sekitar tengah malam, ia terbangun karena haus dan mengendap-endap turun untuk mengisi botolnya. Ruang bersama itu gelap, kecuali lampu kecil di meja resepsionis. Adel tertidur di kursi dengan sebuah buku di dadanya.

Uri stopped on the bottom step. Something was wrong. Earlier that evening, the bag had stood beside the fireplace. Now it stood in the middle of the floor, a full two metres closer to the front door.

Uri berhenti di anak tangga paling bawah. Ada yang salah. Sore tadi, tas itu berada di samping perapian. Sekarang tas itu berada di tengah lantai, dua meter penuh lebih dekat ke pintu depan.

He looked down. A thin line of dust ran across the boards, as if the bag had been dragged. Then he heard it: a tiny scrape, followed by a pause. The bag moved another hand's width toward the door. Then it stopped, as if it knew that someone was watching.

Ia menunduk. Garis tipis debu terbentang melintasi papan lantai, seakan tas itu diseret. Lalu ia mendengarnya: gesekan kecil, diikuti jeda. Tas itu bergeser lagi selebar telapak tangan ke arah pintu. Lalu berhenti, seolah tahu ada yang memperhatikan.

Uri did not scream. He was too surprised. He walked slowly to the desk and shook Adel's shoulder.

Uri tidak menjerit. Ia terlalu terkejut. Ia berjalan pelan ke meja dan mengguncang bahu Adel.

"Your bag is walking," he whispered.

"Tasmu berjalan," bisiknya.

Adel opened one eye. "Yes, I know." He sat up and rubbed his face. "It does that every night, a little at a time. Every morning I push it back to the fireplace. I have done it since spring."

Adel membuka sebelah mata. "Ya, aku tahu." Ia duduk tegak dan menggosok wajahnya. "Setiap malam begitu, sedikit demi sedikit. Setiap pagi aku mendorongnya kembali ke perapian. Aku sudah melakukannya sejak musim semi."

"You have done what?" Uri stared at him. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Kamu sudah melakukan apa?" Uri menatapnya. "Kenapa kamu tidak memberi tahu siapa pun?"

"Nobody asks me anything," Adel said. "Guests ask how to open it, and they never ask why it moves. Honestly, I stopped expecting a question."

"Tidak ada yang bertanya apa-apa padaku," kata Adel. "Para tamu bertanya bagaimana cara membukanya, dan mereka tidak pernah bertanya kenapa tas itu bergerak. Sejujurnya, aku sudah berhenti berharap ada yang bertanya."

They both looked at the bag. It sat very still, like a dog waiting for its owner.

Mereka berdua menatap tas itu. Tas itu duduk sangat diam, seperti anjing yang menunggu pemiliknya.

"Maybe that is the problem," Uri said slowly. "Everybody tries to open it. Nobody asks what it wants."

"Mungkin itulah masalahnya," kata Uri perlahan. "Semua orang mencoba membukanya. Tidak ada yang bertanya apa yang diinginkannya."

Adel laughed, but it was a short laugh. "You want me to talk to a bag?"

Adel tertawa, tetapi hanya sebentar. "Kamu mau aku bicara pada sebuah tas?"

"You have already been pushing it for months. Talking cannot be stranger than that."

"Kamu sudah mendorongnya berbulan-bulan. Bicara tidak mungkin lebih aneh daripada itu."

Adel looked at the floor. Then he stood up, crossed the room, and crouched in front of the bag. He cleared his throat twice. "Excuse me," he said, in a very small voice. "Where are you trying to go?"

Adel menatap lantai. Lalu ia berdiri, menyeberangi ruangan, dan berjongkok di depan tas itu. Ia berdeham dua kali. "Permisi," katanya, dengan suara sangat kecil. "Kamu mau pergi ke mana?"

Nothing happened. Uri held his breath. A clock ticked somewhere above them, and the old building creaked.

Tidak ada yang terjadi. Uri menahan napas. Sebuah jam berdetak di suatu tempat di atas mereka, dan bangunan tua itu berderit.

"Maybe it needs somebody who has never pulled the zip," Adel said. He stood up and stepped back. "You try."

"Mungkin tas ini butuh seseorang yang belum pernah menarik ritsletingnya," kata Adel. Ia berdiri dan melangkah mundur. "Kamu coba."

Uri knelt down. The leather felt warm, and it smelled of dust and pine needles. He thought about all the people who had pulled at the zip, one after another. They had been so sure that the problem was the lock and not the question.

Uri berlutut. Kulitnya terasa hangat, dan berbau debu serta jarum pinus. Ia memikirkan semua orang yang menarik ritsleting itu, satu demi satu. Mereka begitu yakin bahwa masalahnya ada pada kuncinya, bukan pada pertanyaannya.

"I'm sorry nobody asked you before," he said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Maaf tidak ada yang bertanya padamu sebelumnya," katanya. "Kamu ingin pergi ke mana?"

The zip gave a tiny click. Then, slowly, it slid open by itself, all the way around the bag. A soft smell of forest air rose into the room. Inside there were no clothes and no books. There was a small brass lantern with a bell on its handle. There was a folded paper. There was also a very old pair of walking boots, worn thin at the heels.

Ritsleting itu mengeluarkan bunyi klik kecil. Lalu, perlahan, terbuka sendiri, mengelilingi seluruh tas. Aroma lembut udara hutan naik ke ruangan. Di dalamnya tidak ada pakaian dan tidak ada buku. Ada lentera kuningan kecil dengan lonceng di gagangnya. Ada selembar kertas terlipat. Ada pula sepasang sepatu gunung yang sangat tua, tipis di bagian tumitnya.

Uri unfolded the paper. The writing was careful and slanted. "I am a traveller's bag," he read aloud. "My owner left me here while he went to look for the way home. He never came back, and I have been waiting for somebody to ask where I want to go. I want to go to the stone bridge at the top of the hill. Please carry me there, and please ring its bell once."

Uri membuka lipatan kertas itu. Tulisannya rapi dan miring. "Aku tas seorang pengelana," ia membaca keras-keras. "Pemilikku meninggalkanku di sini ketika ia pergi mencari jalan pulang. Ia tidak pernah kembali, dan aku menunggu seseorang bertanya ke mana aku ingin pergi. Aku ingin pergi ke jembatan batu di puncak bukit. Tolong bawa aku ke sana, dan tolong bunyikan loncengnya sekali."

"The stone bridge," Adel repeated. "That is half an hour from here. In the dark."

"Jembatan batu," Adel mengulang. "Itu setengah jam dari sini. Dalam gelap."

"Then we should take warm coats," Uri said. "Two pairs of boots, and one bag."

"Kalau begitu kita harus membawa mantel hangat," kata Uri. "Dua pasang sepatu, dan satu tas."

"Three pairs, if you count these." Adel pointed at the old boots. He was smiling now, and the smile made him look much younger. "I have to leave a note for my parents."

"Tiga pasang, kalau sepatu tua ini dihitung." Adel menunjuk sepatu tua itu. Ia sudah tersenyum sekarang, dan senyum itu membuatnya tampak jauh lebih muda. "Aku harus meninggalkan catatan untuk orang tuaku."

They crept out of the front door with the bag between them. Its weight was strange, heavy and light at the same time. As soon as they stepped onto the road, the bag seemed to know the way. It tugged gently to the left, and then again to the right, like a dog on a lead.

Mereka mengendap-endap keluar lewat pintu depan dengan tas di antara mereka. Beratnya aneh, berat dan ringan sekaligus. Begitu mereka menginjak jalan, tas itu seakan tahu arahnya. Tas itu menarik pelan ke kiri, lalu ke kanan, seperti anjing yang dituntun.

The path climbed through dark trees. Neither of them spoke for a long time. Nothing in the world sounded as loud as their own footsteps. At last, the trees opened, and the old stone bridge stood against the stars.

Jalan setapak itu menanjak melewati pepohonan gelap. Tak satu pun dari mereka berbicara lama sekali. Tidak ada apa pun di dunia yang terdengar sekeras langkah kaki mereka sendiri. Akhirnya pepohonan terbuka, dan jembatan batu tua berdiri di bawah bintang-bintang.

Uri lifted the lantern from the bag. It lit by itself, with a calm yellow light. He rang the little bell once, as the note had asked. The sound was clear and long, and it did not end like a normal sound. It kept running down the hill and over the valley. It seemed to reach the edge of the sky.

Uri mengangkat lentera dari tas. Lentera itu menyala sendiri, dengan cahaya kuning yang tenang. Ia membunyikan lonceng kecil itu sekali, seperti yang diminta catatan itu. Bunyinya jernih dan panjang, dan tidak berakhir seperti bunyi biasa. Bunyi itu terus berlari menuruni bukit dan melintasi lembah. Seakan sampai ke tepi langit.

From the other side of the bridge, something answered. It was a second bell, much farther away. Then a third rang, and a fourth, a whole line of them, getting nearer.

Dari seberang jembatan, sesuatu menjawab. Itu lonceng kedua, jauh lebih jauh. Lalu lonceng ketiga berbunyi, dan keempat, satu deretan penuh, semakin dekat.

The bag shivered. Slowly, the empty walking boots rose out of it. They stood on the bridge, side by side, as if someone invisible had stepped into them. The lantern went out. A warm breath of air passed between the boys. The boots walked away over the stones, one heavy step at a time, into the dark.

Tas itu bergetar. Perlahan, sepatu gunung kosong itu naik keluar darinya. Sepatu itu berdiri di jembatan, berdampingan, seakan seseorang yang tak terlihat telah melangkah masuk ke dalamnya. Lentera padam. Embusan udara hangat melewati kedua anak laki-laki itu. Sepatu itu berjalan menjauh melintasi batu-batu, satu langkah berat demi satu langkah, ke dalam gelap.

For a long moment, Uri could not move. The bag lay open on the ground, light as a leaf, and its leather handle had gone soft.

Cukup lama Uri tidak bisa bergerak. Tas itu tergeletak terbuka di tanah, seringan daun, dan pegangan kulitnya telah melunak.

"Well," Adel said at last. His voice shook. "I think we just did something important."

"Nah," kata Adel akhirnya. Suaranya bergetar. "Kurasa kita baru saja melakukan sesuatu yang penting."

"I think so too." Uri picked up the empty bag and put it carefully over his shoulder. "Do you think it is finished?"

"Kurasa juga begitu." Uri mengambil tas kosong itu dan menyampirkannya dengan hati-hati ke bahunya. "Menurutmu ini sudah selesai?"

Adel did not answer at once. He was looking down the hill, where a faint light was moving along the road. It was small and yellow, and it was coming toward the hostel. "No," he said. "I think it only wanted somebody to ask the first question. Come on, Uri. Somebody has to ask the next one."

Adel tidak langsung menjawab. Ia memandang ke bawah bukit, tempat cahaya samar bergerak di sepanjang jalan. Cahaya itu kecil dan kuning, dan datang menuju wisma. "Tidak," katanya. "Kurasa ia hanya ingin ada yang menanyakan pertanyaan pertama. Ayo, Uri. Seseorang harus menanyakan pertanyaan berikutnya."