The Knotted Rope at Zahra's Gate

Zahra sold things from a wooden stall beside the farm gate on Orchard Road, and most of them were ordinary. She had jars of honey, bundles of firewood and eggs in cardboard cartons. The rope was different. It hung from a nail at the back of the stall. It was a thick brown length of hemp with so many knots that it looked like a necklace made by a nervous giant. Nobody had asked about it in three years.

Zahra menjual berbagai barang dari sebuah lapak kayu di samping gerbang pertanian di Orchard Road, dan kebanyakan barangnya biasa saja. Ia punya toples-toples madu, ikatan-ikatan kayu bakar, dan telur dalam karton. Tali itu berbeda. Tali itu tergantung pada sebuah paku di bagian belakang lapak. Itu seutas tali rami cokelat tebal dengan begitu banyak simpul sampai tampak seperti kalung buatan raksasa yang gugup. Tidak ada yang bertanya tentang tali itu selama tiga tahun.

Ferran noticed it on a Saturday in late autumn. He had come to the gate, as he did every week, to sell pumpkins from the back of his cart. He had set up his scales on the empty trestle table next to Zahra's stall. He was a good grower and a poor seller. Customers who bought his pumpkins somehow always paid less than he had meant to charge. He went home each evening with a lighter purse than his arithmetic promised.

Ferran memperhatikannya pada suatu hari Sabtu di penghujung musim gugur. Ia datang ke gerbang, seperti setiap minggu, untuk menjual labu dari bagian belakang gerobaknya. Ia memasang timbangannya di meja penyangga kosong di samping lapak Zahra. Ia petani yang baik tetapi penjual yang buruk. Pelanggan yang membeli labunya entah bagaimana selalu membayar lebih murah daripada yang ingin ia tetapkan. Setiap sore ia pulang dengan dompet yang lebih ringan daripada yang dijanjikan hitungannya.

"That is a lot of knots," he said, nodding at the rope.

"Simpulnya banyak sekali," katanya sambil mengangguk ke arah tali itu.

"Eighty-one," Zahra said, without looking up from her honey. "I counted them once."

"Delapan puluh satu," kata Zahra tanpa mengangkat pandangan dari madunya. "Pernah kuhitung."

"What are they for?"

"Untuk apa simpul-simpul itu?"

"They are not for anything. Each one is a request that somebody made and never finished. The rope arrived on my counter when I took over this stall, and the woman who left it did not say where it came from." She wiped her hands on her apron. "She did say one thing, though. If you untie a knot and ask for something out loud, the rope will answer. It gives you what you ask for, not what you mean."

"Tidak untuk apa-apa. Setiap simpul adalah permintaan yang diajukan seseorang dan tak pernah selesai. Tali itu datang ke mejaku ketika aku mengambil alih lapak ini, dan perempuan yang meninggalkannya tidak bilang dari mana asalnya." Ia mengusap tangannya pada celemek. "Tapi dia memang mengatakan satu hal. Kalau kamu membuka sebuah simpul dan meminta sesuatu dengan suara keras, tali itu akan menjawab. Tali itu memberimu apa yang kamu minta, bukan apa yang kamu maksud."

Ferran laughed. It was a short, polite laugh, the kind people use when they suspect a seller of improving the story to raise the price. But the day was slow and the lane was empty. He was tired of doing sums in his head only to be proved wrong at closing time.

Ferran tertawa. Itu tawa pendek yang sopan, jenis tawa yang dipakai orang ketika mencurigai seorang penjual memperindah cerita untuk menaikkan harga. Tetapi hari itu sepi dan jalan setapak kosong. Ia lelah menghitung dalam kepala hanya untuk terbukti salah saat toko tutup.

"May I try?" he asked.

"Boleh aku coba?" tanyanya.

"It is free," Zahra said. "Choose a small one, though. The big knots are old, and nobody knows what is inside them."

"Gratis," kata Zahra. "Pilih yang kecil saja. Simpul-simpul besar sudah tua, dan tidak ada yang tahu apa isinya."

He walked to the back of the stall and lifted the rope from its nail. It was heavier than it looked, and slightly warm, as if somebody had been holding it. At the very end, where the fibres were thinnest, he found a knot no bigger than a walnut. His fingers worked at it for a minute. Then it loosened and fell open, and the ends of the rope lay still in his palm.

Ia berjalan ke belakang lapak dan mengangkat tali itu dari pakunya. Tali itu lebih berat daripada kelihatannya, dan sedikit hangat, seakan ada yang baru saja memegangnya. Di ujung paling akhir, tempat serat-seratnya paling tipis, ia menemukan sebuah simpul yang tidak lebih besar dari buah kenari. Jari-jarinya mengerjakannya selama semenit. Lalu simpul itu mengendur dan terbuka, dan ujung-ujung tali terbaring diam di telapak tangannya.

"I wish," Ferran said, feeling foolish, "that I always knew exactly how much I had sold."

"Aku ingin," kata Ferran, merasa konyol, "selalu tahu persis berapa banyak yang sudah kujual."

Nothing happened. A crow landed on the gatepost and left again. Ferran handed the rope back to Zahra, who hung it on its nail without comment. He packed up his scales a little earlier than usual.

Tidak terjadi apa-apa. Seekor gagak hinggap di tiang gerbang lalu pergi lagi. Ferran menyerahkan tali itu kembali kepada Zahra, yang menggantungkannya di pakunya tanpa berkomentar. Ia membereskan timbangannya sedikit lebih awal daripada biasanya.

On Sunday morning he went out to feed his hens and found the rope draped over his own gate. He stared at it for a long time. It had not been there the night before, and the nearest neighbour lived a mile away. He lifted it with two careful fingers. The knots had moved. At one end there was now a neat group of nine knots. After a gap came a group of four, then another gap and a single knot.

Pada Minggu pagi ia keluar untuk memberi makan ayam-ayamnya dan menemukan tali itu terbentang di gerbangnya sendiri. Ia menatapnya lama sekali. Semalam tali itu belum ada di sana, dan tetangga terdekat tinggal sejauh satu mil. Ia mengangkatnya dengan dua jari yang berhati-hati. Simpul-simpulnya sudah berpindah. Di salah satu ujung kini ada kelompok rapi berisi sembilan simpul. Setelah sebuah jeda datang kelompok empat, lalu jeda lagi dan satu simpul tunggal.

He walked to Zahra's stall with the rope coiled over his shoulder.

Ia berjalan ke lapak Zahra dengan tali tergulung di bahunya.

"Nine big pumpkins, four small ones, one lumpy one," Zahra said, when she had examined it. "I think that is what you sold on Saturday."

"Sembilan labu besar, empat labu kecil, satu labu benjol," kata Zahra setelah memeriksanya. "Kurasa itu yang kamu jual hari Sabtu."

"I sold nothing on Saturday. I was talking to you."

"Aku tidak menjual apa-apa hari Sabtu. Aku mengobrol denganmu."

"You sold nine pumpkins before you came to talk to me. I remember them going. You were very pleased with yourself."

"Kamu menjual sembilan labu sebelum datang mengobrol denganku. Aku ingat labu-labu itu pergi. Kamu bangga sekali pada dirimu sendiri."

Ferran counted in his head and found that she was right. He had forgotten the early customers entirely.

Ferran menghitung dalam kepalanya dan mendapati bahwa Zahra benar. Ia sama sekali telah melupakan para pelanggan awal.

"But I asked to know how much I had sold," he said. "I did not ask for a rope to follow me home."

"Tapi aku minta untuk tahu berapa yang sudah kujual," katanya. "Aku tidak minta ada tali yang mengikutiku pulang."

"No," said Zahra. "You asked to always know. A rope that is only there on Saturdays would not be doing that, would it?"

"Tidak," kata Zahra. "Kamu minta untuk selalu tahu. Tali yang hanya ada pada hari Sabtu tidak akan melakukan itu, kan?"

So the rope stayed with him, and for a month it was the most useful thing he owned. He hung it from the front of his stall. By the end of each day it had tied itself into a clear record of everything that had changed hands. It showed how many pumpkins had gone, how many coins had come in, and which customers had paid before leaving. When the last buyer walked away, Ferran only needed to look at the knots to know whether his purse was full or short.

Maka tali itu tinggal bersamanya, dan selama sebulan itu adalah benda paling berguna yang ia miliki. Ia menggantungnya di bagian depan lapaknya. Pada akhir setiap hari, tali itu telah mengikat dirinya menjadi catatan yang jelas tentang segala sesuatu yang berpindah tangan. Tali itu menunjukkan berapa labu yang terjual, berapa koin yang masuk, dan pelanggan mana yang sudah membayar sebelum pergi. Ketika pembeli terakhir berjalan pergi, Ferran hanya perlu melihat simpul-simpul itu untuk tahu apakah dompetnya penuh atau kurang.

It was not always comfortable. One afternoon a man in a long coat lifted two pumpkins from the pile. He held out a single coin, hoping, perhaps, that nobody was watching. Before Ferran could speak, the rope slid off its hook and curled around the man's wrist like a friendly snake. Then it pulled itself into a tight, deliberate knot. The man looked down at it. Then he looked at Ferran, and Ferran, who had never in his life been brave about money, looked at the sky.

Itu tidak selalu nyaman. Suatu sore seorang pria bermantel panjang mengambil dua labu dari tumpukan. Ia mengulurkan satu koin saja, mungkin berharap tidak ada yang memperhatikan. Sebelum Ferran sempat bicara, tali itu meluncur dari kaitnya dan melingkar di pergelangan tangan pria itu seperti ular yang ramah. Lalu tali itu menarik dirinya menjadi simpul yang kencang dan disengaja. Pria itu menunduk melihatnya. Lalu ia menatap Ferran, dan Ferran, yang seumur hidupnya tidak pernah berani soal uang, menatap langit.

"I think," the man said eventually, "that I owe you one more coin."

"Kurasa," kata pria itu akhirnya, "saya berutang satu koin lagi kepada Anda."

After that, word travelled along the lane. People who had once paid in a hurry now paid carefully, and a few of them started to bring exact change. Ferran noticed that his sales did not fall, as he had feared. They rose. Strangers told each other that his stall was the honest one, the one with the clever rope. They came from three villages away to see it work.

Sesudah itu, kabar menyebar di sepanjang jalan setapak. Orang-orang yang dulu membayar terburu-buru kini membayar dengan hati-hati, dan beberapa mulai membawa uang pas. Ferran memperhatikan bahwa penjualannya tidak turun, seperti yang ia takutkan. Penjualannya naik. Orang-orang asing saling bercerita bahwa lapaknya adalah yang jujur, yang punya tali pintar. Mereka datang dari tiga desa jauhnya untuk melihatnya bekerja.

On the last Saturday of the season, he carried the rope back to Zahra's stall and set it on her counter.

Pada hari Sabtu terakhir musim itu, ia membawa tali itu kembali ke lapak Zahra dan meletakkannya di mejanya.

"It is a wonderful thing," he said. "But I do not think it belongs to me. I only ever wanted to know what I had earned."

"Ini benda yang menakjubkan," katanya. "Tapi kurasa ini bukan milikku. Aku hanya ingin tahu apa yang sudah kuhasilkan."

"Then you have what you asked for," Zahra said. "Is something wrong with it?"

"Kalau begitu kamu sudah mendapat yang kamu minta," kata Zahra. "Ada yang salah dengannya?"

Ferran thought about the question honestly. "It is very good at its job. It is simply that I would like to understand why a rope is better at selling pumpkins than I am. I think I need a lesson, not a miracle."

Ferran memikirkan pertanyaan itu dengan jujur. "Tali ini sangat pandai dalam tugasnya. Hanya saja aku ingin mengerti kenapa seutas tali lebih pandai menjual labu daripada aku. Kurasa aku butuh pelajaran, bukan keajaiban."

"You have just had one," Zahra said. "People watched the rope tie itself to the truth for a month. Some of that truth stuck to you. Haven't you noticed that you stand differently?"

"Kamu baru saja mendapatkannya," kata Zahra. "Orang-orang menyaksikan tali itu mengikat dirinya pada kebenaran selama sebulan. Sebagian kebenaran itu melekat padamu. Tidakkah kamu sadar bahwa caramu berdiri sudah berbeda?"

He had not. But when he looked down at his hands, he saw that they were resting flat and steady on the table. They were not folded behind his back, as they usually were when a customer asked him a price.

Ia tidak sadar. Tetapi ketika ia menunduk melihat tangannya, ia melihat tangan itu terletak datar dan mantap di atas meja. Tangannya tidak terlipat di belakang punggung, seperti biasanya ketika pelanggan menanyakan harga.

"Then I will keep the rope for the winter," he said at last, "if you will lend it to me. I will bring it back in spring."

"Kalau begitu aku akan menyimpan tali ini selama musim dingin," katanya akhirnya, "kalau kamu mau meminjamkannya. Akan kukembalikan pada musim semi."

"It will be waiting," Zahra said. "But there is one condition. You must never ask it for a loan."

"Tali ini akan menunggu," kata Zahra. "Tapi ada satu syarat. Kamu tidak boleh meminta pinjaman darinya."

"Why not?"

"Kenapa tidak?"

"Because it will want interest."

"Karena dia akan minta bunga."

Ferran grinned, then looked down at the rope in his arms. It had already tied itself into a tiny, smug bow.

Ferran menyeringai, lalu menunduk melihat tali di pelukannya. Tali itu sudah mengikat dirinya menjadi pita kecil yang puas diri.

"Is it honest?" he asked her, half joking.

"Apakah dia jujur?" tanyanya kepada Zahra, setengah bercanda.

"Not exactly," said Zahra, turning back to her honey. "It is only tied to the facts."

"Tidak persis," kata Zahra sambil berbalik kembali pada madunya. "Dia hanya terikat pada fakta."