Dimas was completing the Maghrib prayer in congregation at the mosque near his official residence.
He intentionally prayed at the mosque to calm his nerves. He wasn't ready to share his troubles with his two friends.
Dimas feared they might be frightened, and worse, they might not believe what he had seen.
After leaving the mosque, Dimas didn't head straight home, but instead stopped by Mr. Wongso’s house.
Upon arrival, Dimas immediately knocked on Mr. Wongso's door. Shortly after, he heard the sound of the door opening from the inside.
Click.
The door opened, revealing Mr. Wongso wearing a wrapped sarong around his waist.
Dimas guessed Mr. Wongso had just completed the Maghrib prayer as well.
“Assalamualaikum, Sir....” Dimas greeted him for the first time.
“Waalaikumsalam Mr. Dimas. Please come in,” invited Mr. Wongso.
Dimas complied and entered Mr. Wongso’s house, taking a seat on a rattan chair in the living room.
“What brings you here, Mr.?” Mr. Wongso asked curiously.
“I wanted to ask about why you forbid me from sitting on the terrace after eleven at night. What's the reason behind it?” Dimas cut straight to the point.
Mr. Wongso seemed nervous after being asked that question.
“I can't tell you, Mr. If I do, it wouldn't be good for me,” replied Mr. Wongso, his gaze darting around the room.
He acted as if someone was watching him.
Dimas’s confusion grew, but he wouldn't press Mr. Wongso to talk if it would endanger him.
“Can you give me any advice on what to do next?” inquired Dimas once more.
“Have you heard any whispers?” Mr. Wongso asked softly, leaning closer to Dimas in hopes no one else would overhear.
Dimas was startled because he had already experienced what Mr. Wongso was asking about.
“I’m disturbed by those whispers,” Dimas replied in a hushed voice.
“I can't help much, but my advice to you is to be careful,” Mr. Wongso counseled.
*
“Where is Dimas, Sat?” Riko inquired, noticing Dimas was not at home.
“He's praying Maghrib at the mosque. He said he’d stop by Mr. Wongso's house afterward,” Satrio informed them of Dimas's whereabouts.
“Why does he need to visit there?” Riko pressed, not yet satisfied.
Satrio shrugged, an indication he also didn't know why Dimas went to Mr. Wongso’s house.
“I find Dimas's behavior since this morning really odd. Even seeing your face made him shout that loudly,” Riko expressed his thoughts.
“I’m puzzled too. Maybe my face is so handsome? I realize I’m indeed the handsome bro. From the front, I'm handsome; from the back, I'm handsome – Handsome from every angle,”
Satrio continued to boast confidently about his own looks.
Riko was no longer listening to anything Satrio was saying. His focus was on Dimas, who was standing on the porch staring at the banyan tree.
Riko kept an eye on what Dimas would do next.
When he saw Dimas start to cautiously approach the banyan tree, Riko ran to get closer to him.
Riko ignored Satrio, who was calling after him and muttering curses for being ignored.
*
Dimas was now on the porch of the official residence, reluctant to go inside as he was determined to unravel the mystery of the female figure associated with the banyan tree before him.
Dimas felt there was a connection between them.
Perhaps by examining the banyan tree more closely, he might find some clue there.
He moved slowly toward the eerie tree, especially unnerving that night due to the dim yellow porch light, as opposed to a white one, which only heightened the creeping atmosphere.
Just three steps away from reaching the banyan tree, an unexpected pat came on his back.
“Allahu Akbar!”
“Allahu Akbar!”
“Astagfirullah, astagfirullah!”
Dimas gasped in shock, invoking the name of His Lord.
“It’s me, Dimas!” exclaimed Riko, who had purposely approached Dimas as he was moving toward the banyan tree.
Riko noticed an unusual gaze from his friend upon viewing the banyan tree before them.
“You scared me, Rik,” Dimas retorted, half-annoyed.
“Why are you standing here in the middle of the night anyway?” Riko reasoned.
Just then, a sudden downpour soaked the bickering pair.
Dimas and Riko quickly dashed inside the house to avoid the rain.
After the house door closed, under the banyan tree stood a figure of a woman with shoulder-length hair, dressed traditionally in a kebaya.
She looked emptily toward Riko and Dimas, her face ghastly pale.
Flashback on.
Riko's hurry to chase after Dimas wasn't without reason.
He had seen a woman in a kebaya, whom he'd noticed every time he went to and from work.
Riko knew she was not a human but a being from another realm.
He feared this entity would trouble Dimas, having observed it since Dimas had moved into his current residence.
The figure always watched Dimas as he left for and returned from work.
When Dimas was three steps shy of the banyan tree, the figure still stared blankly at him and Riko.
Riko decided to pat Dimas’s shoulder to prevent him from getting closer to the tree.
Thankfully, this stopped Dimas from approaching the banyan tree.
Flashback off.
"Why were you walking toward that banyan tree?" Riko began interrogating.
Dimas fell silent, contemplating his response. He still hesitated to share his experiences with his friends.
"Just curious. Whenever I look at that tree, it seems to possess some mystery,” Dimas half-lied.
Riko felt relieved that Dimas had not seen the woman standing under the banyan tree.
"Indeed, it’s shrouded in mystery. Even seeing it every day, I still get goosebumps whenever I pass by," Satrio chimed in, joining the conversation between Riko and Dimas.
"So, I'm not the only one who feels that the banyan tree contains some hidden mystery?" Dimas's interest piqued, finding a kindred spirit.
"What about you, Rik?" Satrio prodded, noticing Riko's silence.
Riko alternated glances between his two friends before replying.
“Numerous mysteries are indeed enshrined within that banyan tree,"
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