The night shattered the stars and Fajr must be jumping with joy to appear over Arul's head. Never before had he stayed up late like this. Arul always slept at ten at night and woke up when the Fajr call to prayer was heard hoarsely through the mosque's mouthpiece. But today is the day of the crash.
Who sees Arul's head from a distance will know that the head is smoking because of it think really hard. He had been locked up in his room from eight in the evening with the sticks of his pencil and sharpener falling on the floor. Maybe Ms. Hos, her maid, wouldn't hesitate to eat it when she found out that the sleek white floor that was mopped up every day was now full of black pencil sharpener spots.
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
Arul erased again the follow-up sentence he had tried to incorporate with the previous one, but it looked like he was wearing a plaid shirt and sweatpants. He refrained from scribbling gruffly and angrily on paper and erasing again. Three times she had brewed chocolate milk, convincing herself that after that she would soon be smart again, but there was nothing she could write about. There is no right story dough.
His head was smoking more and more like a burning furnace. Arul scratched his head which was not itchy, feeling that his head slowly transformed into the head of a medusa that spewed fire. Not snake hair, maybe dragon hair. I have no idea. Where is the fairy of imagination, is she playing star-throwing that she forgets to visit? This is not his habit.
Since elementary school, Arul has always succeeded in gobbling up sheets of paper, writing with Faber Castle pencils, and his enthusiasm is high. Like the story entitled "Red Car in Sydney Sky", boisterous applause never stopped echoing in his ears. With super fast internet access available at his house, of course he can get more information and references for his story material. No wonder Arul is able to explain in detail his story set abroad. Meanwhile, his other friends only depend on their grandparents who are senile.
And for this assignment from Mrs. Ifa, she couldn't possibly ask her father and mother because there was no way they could know a story with two strange names. Who is Kodapanole? What is the connection with Ratnadi? Why is Ratnadi crying? Or why should Kodapanole be confused when Ratnadi cried? It could be that Arul made up the sequel to the story.
But he did not understand why the writing this time only stopped there. Even the lightning fast internet access could not help him. With a variety of keywords related to Kodapanole or Ratnadi, only Madurese historical sites appear without any stories explaining in more detail.
His friends would have made fun of him if he couldn't continue the story in a day. The challenge from Mrs. Ifa this time really turned gray. Actually, he didn't really know folk tales because what he was presented with were only fantasy stories and fairy tales such as the story of the seven dwarves, the prince who saved the royal princess, or other heroic stories.
Mrs. Ifa said that anyone who can find out the continuation of the story, then he will get a very valuable book, the legacy of the ancestors and a form of love for a country which is rich in various kinds of community stories that cannot be forgotten, especially stories from the island. Madura. To Arul, it sounded like an heirloom and he had to get it.
But never before had he been nervous about the challenge of writing anything. He always manages to create cute stories, European or American settings. He cannot possibly lose to his friends who have rarely written and never bought novels from abroad.
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
That sentence fueled his roaring confusion even more. He supports the chin. He saw the alarm clock which seemed to be spinning twice as fast. He felt hunted. But he can't give up, this is a writing challenge. He began to recite the sentence again and again, like a mantra.
The smallest hour hand moves to the 4, he must finish this before Fajr. He gripped his pencil tightly while deep in thought, trembling trying to read the sentence already written on the paper again, time and time again:
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
***
Arul was half running towards his class when the entrance bell rang. With full confidence he smiled brave and brave. Her white-blue uniform was ironed very subtly with a perfume that smelled like a prince from nowhere that would save a sleeping princess. With the story he had finished writing before dawn broke, he was thrilled.
After spending all night giving all body and soul for this thrilling challenge, Arul was satisfied. He is sure that his story will surely be filled with boisterous applause and blaring praise. If anyone dared to retell and finish the story in front of the class, it would only be the most amazing story.
Mrs. Ifa started her class. "Has anyone managed to get the full story?"
Arul raises his index finger. She was very ready before it turned out that Mrs. Ifa invited Wahid to come forward and tell the rest of her story. He knew very well that Wahid's main source of reference must be only his 93 year old grandfather. He doesn't even remember all the names of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Wahid began to tell stories with confidence and pride. Arul wondered why he had to find out the origin of this, which for him was unclear and not modern. He felt that he was more advanced than Wahid, who only liked old-fashioned stories. But for the sake of the heirloom book, he will fulfill it.
Arul was reluctant to listen to Wahid's story. There's no way Wahid's grandfather will know the story because he doesn't even know how to turn on a computer, thought Arul. It must be a story that is also made up and may not be as interesting as Arul's story. As long as Wahid was chirping, Arul imagined the heirloom book that Bu Ifa promised would land in the palm of his hand. He will bring home a valuable object. His dad and mom will be very proud of him.
Suddenly Arul woke up from his reverie after hearing the applause directed at Wahid. Several compliments were made for Wahid's story, which he had not heard earlier. Ah, maybe just to appreciate his efforts, Arul thought.
"Thank you, Wahid. But it looks like there is one more person who wants to tell the sequel. Later, we will see whose story is more complete and closer to correct according to the book you are holding. Come on, Arul, please move forward, "said Mrs. Ifa.
Arul stood tall, hugging his notebook. He recounted in a more streamlined language:
"After arriving, Dewi Ratnadi really wanted to clean up and change clothes and amben2. Because where they stopped there was no water, Kodapanole jerked his stick. Immediately a spring appeared there, so Dewi Ratnadi was very happy and immediately took a bath. However, some time after that, Dewi Ratnadi sobbed and the Kodapanole immediately approached her. He asked what happened that made Ratnadi cry. Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ... "
Arul suddenly stopped. He looked at his friends, then looked back at his book.
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
Arul trembled. "Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
Bu Ifa asked Arul to continue.
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..." But again he stopped. His head felt very hot and evaporated. Arul tried to close his eyes and took a deep breath and continued, "Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
Suddenly he closed his book and looked at friends and Mrs. Ifa, who was also confused by Arul's attitude. Arul's eyes filled with tears. He did not know why suddenly the continuation of the story he had written all night until he almost died suddenly disappeared. What remains is only: "Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"See! Arul's head is smoking! " shouted one of his friends.
But Arul doesn't care. He kept thinking hard trying to remember what he had written last night. But it's useless, he forgot. He didn't remember at all. The more he thought the more smoke would come out of his head. Arul closes his book and hopes that the rest of the story will appear again when he opens it.
"See! More and more smoke! " all his friends shouted in surprise mixed with fear.
Arul was trembling, cold sweat fell down his body. But Arul hasn't given up. The smoke spread throughout the classroom. His friends screamed and immediately rushed out of the classroom. Bu Ifa tried to wake Arul to stop thinking about it and continue to recite his last sentence.
"Arul, stop it!"
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"Arul!"
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ..."
"Hey! Stop it! "
“Aruuuuuuuuuuulll… ..
***
"Kodapanole was confused to see Ratnadi crying because ... aaaaaaaaaaa ...."
Arul woke up with a pale and sweaty face. He immediately looked in the mirror and made sure that his head was really not smoking. Mama and Mbak Hos looked at him worriedly after trying to wake him up. He glanced at the alarm clock which showed seven in the morning.
“This is bad! I'm late for school, Mom! "
***
Malang, August 2013
For Indonesia's young generation
which is actually rich with
a variety of folklore.
Maybe they forgot
or never know.

Note:
1. Madurese folklore about Ardja Kodapanole and Dewi Ratnadi and the origin of the story of the existence of a spring in the Omben area.
2. Madurese language which means sanitary napkins in ancient times

By Dwi Ratih Ramadhany
The author is an English Literature student and works in the Writers' Student Activity Unit