Houses That Look Alike

The gate to the village head’s house swung open. Pak Kosim, Sagara, and Niskala emerged, bidding farewell to the man in his fifties. The village head smiled before closing the gate behind them.

Ujang Belegug hurried over to join them. This time, he was chewing on a blade of wild grass tucked into the corner of his mouth instead of his usual cigarette.

“What kind of ritual did he perform on the two of you?” he asked bluntly.

Sagara and Niskala exchanged glances.

“What ritual, Kang?” they asked in return.

Pak Kosim chuckled.

“There was no ritual, Jang. We were just paying him a visit. The village head merely reminded us to mind our manners while staying in this hamlet.”

“Is that really true?”

Ujang Belegug turned to the two young men, as though seeking confirmation directly from them.

“It’s true, Kang Ujang,” Sagara affirmed, reinforcing Pak Kosim’s explanation.

Yet Ujang Belegug still seemed unconvinced. One eyebrow rose as he fell silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

“What did you drink in there?”

Ujang resumed his interrogation.

“Just bottled water.”

Niskala answered casually. He even held up the plastic cup of water still in his hand. Then he walked over to the wooden bench, sat down, and gulped the remaining water.

“What did you eat?”

Sagara and Niskala shook their heads almost simultaneously.

“We didn’t eat anything, just as Pak Kosim advised us,” Sagara explained.

“Jang, enough of this. We’d better head home first. It’s not right to stand around chatting here. Why don’t we go to my house instead?”

However, Sagara quickly interrupted.

“Sorry, Pak Kosim. We need to get home soon. We’re worried Grandma might be looking for us.”

Pak Kosim fell silent for a moment before nodding.

“Oh, right. I see. In that case, we’ll part ways at the crossroads. I hope you’ll have the time and opportunity to chat with me again sometime. We can recite the prayers together like we did earlier.”

“Oh, another feast!” Ujang chimed in. “You can count on me to show up, even if I’m not invited.”

The man chuckled as he glanced down and rubbed his own belly.

They then began their journey home. When they reached the crossroads, they parted ways and continued along their respective routes.

—

Halfway along the road to Nyi Rukmini’s house, Sagara was suddenly startled by the overpowering scent of jasmine.

He turned to the right and left, trying to locate the source of the fragrance.

Yet there wasn’t a single jasmine flower in sight.

“What’s wrong, Bang? What are you looking for?”

Niskala looked confused by his older brother’s behavior.

Sagara quickly shook his head.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He resumed walking alongside his younger brother.

Throughout the journey, Niskala paid closer attention to their surroundings. There were several things he had only just begun to notice.

“Bang, I’ve just realized something. All these grand houses have the same architectural design, don’t they? Just like Grandma’s house. They’re all European-style.”

Niskala gazed around in admiration.

“The people here must be quite something.”

Sagara also studied the row of houses lining the road. His younger brother was right. Almost every large house in the hamlet shared a similar design and architectural style.

“But …” Sagara furrowed his brow. “If so many people here live in houses this grand, that means they’re not poor. So why is the village road in such terrible condition? Why hasn’t anyone repaired it?”

Niskala glanced down at the dirt road, riddled with potholes and deep depressions.

“Watch your step, Dek.”

A fairly deep depression lay directly in their path.

Niskala quickly stepped around it.

“Astaghfirullah.”

He stared at the hole in confusion.

“When did this hole appear? I don’t remember seeing it when we passed through here this morning, Bang.”

Sagara glanced at the depression.

“Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure it was already here when we arrived, Dek. Maybe you just didn’t notice it.”

Niskala scratched his head, trying to recall their journey that morning.

*Ah, never mind. It’s not that important anyway.*

He continued walking, his attention returning to the houses around them.

Not long afterward, something caught his eye.

“Why does every grand house have a banyan tree in its yard, Bang?”

“Maybe to provide shade and keep the place cool.”

Niskala nodded. His older brother’s explanation sounded reasonable enough.

“Only Grandma’s house has a pair of banyan trees, though.”

Sagara’s steps faltered.

He turned toward Niskala.

That simple observation set his mind working again.

He was right.

Nyi Rukmini’s house was the only one with two banyan trees standing in front of it.

Sagara fell silent. For a moment, he stared blankly ahead.

*Could this have something to do with all the mysterious things that have been happening lately?*

But he quickly shook his head.

*Forget it. There’s no need to dwell on it.*

Before they knew it, they had arrived at the gate to Nyi Rukmini’s house.

Sagara opened it.

As soon as they stepped into the yard, they found Nyi Rukmini sitting on the front veranda, a cup of warm tea in her hand. The elderly woman took a slow sip.

But the moment she saw her two grandsons, her gaze sharpened.

“Where have you two been?”

Nyi Rukmini placed her teacup on the table, then pointed to the bench opposite her.

“Sit.”

Sagara and Niskala obeyed.

“I’m sorry, Nyi. We said goodbye this morning, but there was no response. So we decided to go anyway. We apologize if we did the wrong thing.”

“Where did you go?”

Nyi Rukmini’s gaze grew even more probing.

“To Pak Kosim’s house. Then we went to the village head’s house.”

At the mention of the *village head*, Nyi Rukmini’s eyes widened instantly.

“What did you go there for?”

Her tone had changed.

“Here, if you need to report something, you only need to speak to the neighborhood head.”

Nyi Rukmini picked up her teacup again. However, her hand seemed slightly stiffer than before.

“We were only paying him a visit, Nyi,” Sagara replied. “The village head also reminded us to mind our manners while staying here.”

Nyi Rukmini set the cup back on the table before she could take another sip.

She let out a long sigh.

Her face grew increasingly tense.

“Go inside.”

Just two words.

Firm, brief, and unmistakable.

Sagara and Niskala did not argue. Both stood up at once and went

inside the house.

Meanwhile, Nyi Rukmini remained seated on the veranda.

Her gaze fixed on the gate, which was still open.

Whatever was going through her mind remained a mystery.