CHAPTER 10 — DAMAR'S FINAL NOTES
Night descended slowly over Kalipura.
After finding Damar's notebook in the old shed, the atmosphere in Bu Sari's house changed. There were no more light conversations like before. No more jokes between Raka and Juno. Even Bima, who usually couldn't sit still, now sat quietly in a corner of the living room, reading his little book.
Damar's notebook lay on the table.
Its cover had grown faded.
Its corners were damaged.
Some of the pages had even yellowed with age.
But the writing inside was still clear enough.
Raka sat in front of the notebook.
Naya was beside him.
Juno stood behind them.
Meanwhile, Bu Sari sat a little farther away, staring at the notebook without saying a word.
Raka opened the page they'd been reading earlier.
"Today we found a trail that isn't on the map."
A date was written beneath it.
July 17, 2003.
Raka turned the page.
Damar's writing grew longer.
> "Arman says this trail might just be an old trail used by the locals. Sinta wants to turn back. Reza is still curious. I don't know what to do myself. But if we go home now, we might regret never finding out what's beyond the forest."
Raka stopped reading.
He looked at Juno.
"What do you think they found?"
Juno shook his head.
"Don't know."
"You sure?"
Juno sighed.
"If I knew, I would've said so already."
Raka went back to reading.
The next page contained a simple drawing.
A map.
A line led toward the hill.
Then the line split in two.
The first trail was labeled main trail.
The second was labeled:
old trail.
At the end of the old trail was a circle.
But the name of the place had been crossed out.
Raka frowned.
"Why was the place name crossed out?"
Naya leaned closer.
"Maybe Damar did it on purpose."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Raka turned another page.
Damar's writing appeared again.
"There's an old building."
Raka read it aloud.
Everyone immediately paid attention.
He continued.
"The building looks like it used to be a rest stop. There's no one there. There's no sign that the place is still being used. But we found something inside."
Raka stopped.
The next page was blank.
"Why does it stop there?"
Naya looked at the following page.
Blank.
"What if a page is missing?"
Raka examined the back of the notebook.
Several sheets did look as if they had been removed.
Bu Sari stood.
"I looked for that notebook once."
Raka turned to her.
"You've read it?"
"A few pages."
"And then?"
"I couldn't keep going."
Raka fell silent.
Bu Sari walked over.
She sat beside them.
"After Damar left, his friends brought some of his belongings home."
"Including this notebook?"
"Yes."
"Why was it given to Pak Surya?"
"Because I didn't want to look at it."
Bu Sari ran her hand over the notebook's cover.
"Every time I saw his handwriting, I felt like he was going to come home."
Raka said nothing.
A strange feeling stirred in his chest.
He had never known Damar.
He had never met him.
But after reading a few pages, Damar felt like someone they'd once known.
Someone who had a dream, too.
Someone who carried a camera.
Someone who wanted to see the world.
Only Damar's journey had ended before it was complete.
Naya slowly opened one of the pages.
"Bu."
"Hmm?"
"If Damar liked photography, maybe there are photos somewhere."
Bu Sari nodded.
"There are."
"Where?"
"In the shed."
They went back to the shed.
Naya brought her digital camera.
She began examining the old photographs arranged inside a box.
There were dozens.
Maybe even hundreds.
The photographs showed life in Kalipura many years ago.
The market.
The river.
Local homes.
Village celebrations.
Children playing.
Then there were several photos of Arunika.
Naya studied them one by one.
"This..."
She picked up one photograph.
It showed four young people standing beside a large tree.
Damar stood at the front.
Behind them was an old building.
Raka moved closer.
"This is the building he meant."
Naya nodded.
"Looks like it."
Juno looked at the photograph.
"That's not the main trail."
"You know where it is?"
Juno shook his head.
"But I've heard of the place."
Raka studied the background of the photograph.
Behind the building stood a large, slanted rock.
Beside it grew a tree with a trunk that split in two.
Raka opened the map.
He tried to find the same shapes.
"If this photo was taken from here..."
He pointed to a specific spot.
"Then the building is on the north side of the hill."
Juno slowly nodded.
"Maybe."
Naya picked up another photograph.
It showed the inside of the building.
There was a wooden table.
Chairs.
Walls covered in scribbles.
And a circular symbol crossed by a line.
Raka immediately remembered the carving on the rock near the river.
"It's the same symbol."
Juno fell silent.
"Juno."
The young man sighed.
"Yeah."
"You know something?"
"A little."
"Explain."
Juno sat down.
"That symbol used to be worn by a group of young people in the village."
"A group?"
"Yeah."
"What was it called?"
Juno looked at the photograph.
"Langkah."
Raka gave a small smile.
"Langkah?"
"A group of young people who liked exploring the area around Kalipura."
Naya stared at the photograph.
"Damar was part of it?"
"Yeah."
"Why did the group disband?"
Juno was silent for a long time.
"After what happened to Damar, the group broke up."
Raka nodded.
Now everything was beginning to connect.
Damar hadn't been the only young person with a dream.
He'd had friends.
They'd formed a group.
They'd explored new places.
They'd wanted to create something.
And then one journey changed everything.
Raka opened the notebook again.
He read another page.
"Arunika made me realize that the world is bigger than we imagined. But the farther we walk, the more things there are that we don't understand."
The next page.
"Arman wants to go back tomorrow."
The next page.
"Sinta says that place isn't safe."
The next page.
"Reza found something near the building."
Raka stopped.
"Found what?"
There was no answer.
The following page was blank again.
Naya stared at the notebook.
"Why are the important parts always missing?"
Raka examined the pages.
Then he noticed something.
There was writing so faint along the edge of the page that it was barely visible.
He took out his phone's flashlight and shone it from the side.
The writing that had nearly been invisible began to emerge.
"If someone ever reads these notes..."
Raka held his breath.
He continued slowly.
"...don't believe that everyone who leaves truly wants to leave this place."
The room fell silent.
Bu Sari covered her mouth.
Juno stood.
"What does that mean?"
Raka shook his head.
There was no sentence after it.
The writing simply stopped.
Naya took a photo of the page.
"At least we have this."
Raka looked at her.
"What do you think Damar meant?"
Naya shook her head.
"Don't know."
"What if..."
"Don't jump to conclusions yet."
Raka nodded.
He knew Naya was right.
They couldn't turn fragments of information into the story they wanted to believe.
They had to find the facts.
The night grew late.
Bima, who had been reading his little book all this time, suddenly stood.
"Kak."
Raka turned to him.
"What?"
Bima opened his book.
"I have something."
He showed them a page.
On it was a pencil drawing.
A tree with two branches.
A small building.
And a circle.
Raka was startled.
"Where did this come from?"
Bima pointed toward the back of the house.
"I've seen it before."
"Where?"
"A few months ago, I went with Dad to look for firewood."
Bima pointed at his drawing.
"I saw that symbol on a rock."
Raka took the book.
"Why didn't you say anything until now?"
Bima lowered his head.
"Because I forgot."
Juno sighed.
"Don't go anywhere by yourself tomorrow."
Bima nodded.
Raka stared at the drawing.
Now they had two clues.
Damar's notebook.
And Bima's memory.
Both pointed to the same place.
The old building on the old trail.
But there was one problem.
They didn't know how to get there.
Raka looked at Juno.
"Do you know the way?"
Juno was silent.
"There's a chance."
"So?"
"That trail hasn't been used in a long time."
"Does that mean it's still passable?"
"Maybe."
Raka looked at Naya.
Naya didn't answer right away.
Then she said,
"If we go, we need to be prepared."
Juno nodded.
"And we don't go alone."
Raka closed Damar's notebook.
"Tomorrow?"
Juno looked at Bu Sari.
Bu Sari remained silent for a long time.
Finally, she said,
"Tomorrow."
Raka was surprised.
"You're letting us go?"
Bu Sari nodded.
"But I have one condition."
"What is it?"
"If you feel unsafe, you come back."
Raka nodded.
"Promise."
Bu Sari looked at them.
"Don't repeat Damar's mistake."
Raka fell silent.
Naya nodded.
"We'll be careful."
That night, they went to sleep early.
Raka placed Damar's notebook beside his bag.
For the first time since arriving in Kalipura, he felt that their destination had changed.
At first, they had only wanted to reach the summit of Arunika.
Now they wanted to understand a story.
But deep down, Raka still had one worry.
What if the answers they found were even more painful than the question Bu Sari had carried all this time?
He didn't know.
No one knew.
All they had were small fragments of the past.
A notebook.
A photograph.
A symbol.
And a trail that had long been abandoned.
The next day, they would try to follow Damar's trail.
Not to imitate his final journey.
Not to chase a thrill.
But to understand what had really happened to someone who had once possessed a dream as big as theirs.
Before going to sleep, Raka opened his own notebook.
He wrote:
"Day 10. We found Damar's notes. Tomorrow we'll follow his trail. I don't know what we'll find. But I promise one thing: we won't let our curiosity make us forget about our safety."
Raka closed his notebook.
Then he looked at the bracelet Bima had given him.
The bracelet was still fastened around his wrist.
Simple.
Nothing more than a piece of string.
But that night, the small object reminded Raka of something.
A dream isn't only about how far someone dares to go.
A dream is also about knowing when to stop.
And perhaps the greatest courage isn't continuing forward when everyone tells you to go on.
Sometimes courage means turning back when the road is no longer safe.
Raka closed his eyes.
Tomorrow they would enter the old trail.
And this time, they wouldn't be carrying only their bags and provisions.
They would be carrying a story that had been waiting more than twenty years to be finished.