Soemantri Soekrasana stopped in front of the gate of a hamlet built of bricks and seemed to have been eaten by the Kala – time - for a long time. In some parts of it a yellow and white cloth that were not less shabby, showing off their old ages, was tied there.
Soemantri Soekrasana took a deep breath. A remote village, looked like a child shunned by its friends, felt thick by its mystical and magical aroma. In the evening after sunset, the fibers and tendrils of fog suddenly came rushing over in a frenzy.
People he met along the way said the name of this place was 'Dusun Pon' – hamlet of Pon. Soemantri Soekrasana smiled faintly because this evening was apparently the day Wednesday of Pon in the calculation of the Javanese calendar.
***
Mak Romlah's coffee shop is quite busy tonight. Several young people were busy discussing the possibility of building a new road near the hamlet as well as a tower from a telecommunications service provider near the twin banyan football fields in the corner of the village. That meant, the two banyan trees that were sacred to the old villagers would be cut down to let the Internet come. The joy and enthusiasm for welcoming the modernization that had occurred long ago in the neighboring villages clearly spread and glued the sidelines of their conversation tightly together.
"What is actually the internet thing about?" Mak Romlah asked what the Internet meant to the youths who were eating cold fried bananas in front of them.
"Ah, okay. If you, Mak, and the village elders believe and understand what magic is, the Internet is like the modern magic. For example, you can talk to your children who work in Lampung in Sumatra not only from their voices, but also by seeing their faces directly. Well, that's how the Internet looks like."
Mak Romlah gaped.
Soemantri Soekrasana came at the right time. The youths were reluctant to answer the follow-up questions of that sixty-seven-year-old widow again, especially regarding the latest technology.
"Mbah (old lady – grandma), coffee, please. What kind of food you have here?" said Soemantri Soekrasana.
"Welcome, son. What do you need in this remote village on this foggy night? And please, don't call me 'mbah'. Just call me 'Mak', Mak Romlah, the villagers used to call me," said the widow rather flirtatious. Her smile widened, revealing a row of teeth that were still intact for her age, although not neat and reddish because of the consumption of betel.
Soemantri Soekrasana smiled back at Mak Romlah awkwardly. The old lady had not replied to him question about the food available at this stall while his stomach was rumbling like a drum filled with wind.
"Oh my God, I'm a forgetful person. I'm so sorry, son. This stall has rice. Just choose the side dishes at the table, son," said Mak Romlah, realizing that she had not answered the customer's main question.
Soemantri Soekrasana nodded, "Yes, Ma'am, rice then, please," he said while looking at the head, claws and hearts of fried chicken, as well as 'tempe bacem' and 'vegetable bothok'.
The youths watched him. Realizing that he was the center of attention, Soemantri Soekrasana looked back at the youths by trying to make faces as friendly as possible. "Evening, brothers. Actually I was just passing through. But who knows if someone needs my help. I happen to work as a mobile masseuse."
"You are a masseur, brother? This young>" asked one of the young men looking interested.
"Yes, that's because I'm still young , still strong," replied Soemantri Soekrasana with a smile. As a shaman and mastering the science of 'kanuragan' – supernatural power, disguised as a masseur to investigate occult cases is not something difficult. He quite understood the intricacies of human muscles and nerves.
***
Soemantri Soekrasana took the opportunity to ask permission to urinate. Mak Romlah invited him to the bathroom used also as latrine with woven bamboo walls called 'gedhek', at the back of her house and shop.
It was only seven o'clock in the evening, yet complete darkness robbed this place.
Soemantri Soekrasana unzipped his sling bag. Took a bottle of mineral water, kept the water in his mouth but didn't swallow it. From his mouth, he sprayed the water all around the place. A mantra in Javanese is spoken softly, "... Sang kala ireng sang kala lumagang, sang sarasa karasa sira apasang sira anut marang ingsun, ana saking ingsun pangeranira sang nur zat maya putih, sira metuwa."
Soemantri Soekrasana felt the fog getting thicker, rolling like wool. The magical air was getting denser.
"Apparently Wednesday of Pon is the day," murmured the young man with a mystery that only he might understand.
Before long he saw from behind a tall jack fruit tree, the figure of an old man with white hair as white as the mist itself walking hunched over. His wrinkled skin was as pale as cotton. His eyes turned upside down. The white part replaces the black part.
***
Soemantri Soekrasana was devouring rice with bothok and tempe and tahu bacem when he saw a middle-aged man came to Mak Romlah's stall, walking slowly, tending to stumble.
"Mak, coffee, please." he said.
The young people suddenly fell silent. The atmosphere was too strange and clearly affected by the arrival of this middle-aged man.
"Tired, are you? How are you and your wife?" said Mak Romlah while serving a cup of coffee. The aroma of coffee spread by the smoke made Soemantri Soekrasana's nostrils wide open.
"Well, that's what you call it a job, you must be tired, Mak. My wife, Wardhani's mother, has arrived home first. We met earlier at workplace, in the rice field," he answered slowly. "Mak, can I use the toilet for a second?" added the man. Mak Romlah nodded in understanding. The man stood up and walked slowly to the back of Mak Romlah's house.
Soemantri Soekrasana saw clearly, there was a figure of a woman with long, rough hair riding on this man's back while he was walking away. There were drops of water from the creatures's rough hair. It was found out that the creature riding on this man's back that caused the his body to bend slightly like a tree trunk struck by lightning.
The muttering of the youths were immediately heard when the middle-aged man was nowhere to be seen.
"Ah, don't mind and listen to the words of these young people, son. In this village, that man is known as a person whose family used to be rich. After his and his wife's first daughter died, they suddenly fell into poverty. The villagers say that they're getting a bit... er ... crazy, son. Their second daughter is said often sees ghosts and screams to herself wildly. Yes, even though I'm old, but so far I have never seen anything like that in this small village, in this lovely remote hamlet. Ah, but their life is already difficult now. If you were rich before, and then you lost your child and wealth at the same time, you would be crazy too, right, son?" Mak Romlah smiled again showing a row of black and red teeth.
***
"Sorry, Sir. My name is Soemantri. I happen to work as a mobile masseur. Earlier, we met at Mak Romlah's stall," Soemantri Soekrasana followed the middle-aged man. He greeted him on a narrow and dark path with thick bamboo trees grew on the side of the road. The figure of the woman-like supernatural creature was still attached to the back of the man. Her shabby white clothes and dirty hands wrapped around the man's neck.
"I don't have money to pay for your services, son. I'm used to coming home from work tired like this. Well, what can I say. I'm old," said the man.
"Sorry for being presumptuous, Sir. But that's not what I meant. Actually I am practicing my massage practice. I saw that your back, shoulders, upper arms and neck often hurt. It feels like you are lifting weights, especially in the afternoon and evening, right?"
The man was surprised, then smiled, "Ah, you're right, son."
Soemantri Soekrasana smiled back at him. "Well, if you can and you want, let me try to massage and heal your tiredness, free of charge. Let's just say that I make you ... my training facility," said Soemantri Soekrasana, smiling shyly.
"Well, are you serious, son? I really don't have money or anything to give. But I believe you. It was proven that you could guess where my pain and soreness were just from looking," the man's face immediately lit up cheerfully.
***
"Honey, please make tea for me and for our guest. I got a free massage. Our guest is a young handsome man, he is also a kind man," cried the man when they arrived at his house, which, to be honest, surprised Soemantri Soekrasana.
The house was unusually large, especially when compared to the houses of the residents of this hamlet that they had been passing by. So, it was clear that Mak Romlah's story contained the truth. The house with its wide courtyard, Dutch tiled floors, even the grand pillars of this majesty were not maintained at all . Shabby and old.
The wife appeared. The traces of beauty were still left on her face and appearance. "Well, we have a guest," said the woman shortly.
"Don't bother, Ma'am. I have eaten and drunk at the stall with your kind husband," replied Soemantri Soekrasana.
"No, no. Just go make some tea, honey. This good chap wants to massage me for free. He said it's for practice. I'm so lucky today. I wanted to ask you to massage me, but then you will be the one who's tired," said the man jokingly.
***
Soemantri Soekrasana looked around the wide and spacious living room without any chair while sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"Excuse me, Sir, whose photos are those?" asked Soemantri Soekrasana pointing to a collection of photos stuck to one corner of the wall.
Actually the question was more directed at the most obvious photo: the face of a girl in her twenties with loose hair that was as coarse as palm fiber, among the old photos which could be confirmed as the faces of family members and parents or previous generations.
"Well, that one ... That, that ... is my first daughter's photo. Her name is Kinanti. Incidentally, she died a long time ago, son."
"Ah, I'm very sorry, sir. I'm very sorry," said Soemantri Soekrasana, showing his concern. The figure of a woman who can be ascertained as Kinanti who always cling to her father's back had disappeared minutes ago.
"It's okay. You didn't know. After all, it happened a long time ago."
Soon there were footsteps and the sound of glass tumbling on the metal tray.
Wardhani, the second daughter of this family, walked slowly carrying unsweetened plain tea. But suddenly the face of this beautiful young girl was shocked. Her pair of eyes with long eyelashes attached by the universe widened. The iron tray with glass cups on it fell and shattered on the floor. Wardhani saw the figure of a woman in a red dress floating behind the body of Soemantri Soekrasana, the guest, who was also looking at her cross-legged. The woman's figure was in a half bun and half her hair was messy. Her two eyes that looked sad and suffering were oozing blood, as was her mouth which was wide open.
The middle-aged man, Wardhani's father, was certainly surprised, while Soemantri Soekrasana immediately stood up and said quietly to the girl, "You can also see that red kuntilanak, the female ghost?"