Moksa

At the end of the year 2020, a young man named Fajri stood upright in front of a pole. More precisely, he was tied to a pole by the locals. At that time, the day was already becoming hot. The atmosphere was highly tumultuous. The scorching sun, combined with the heat of the villagers' anger, made the place even more chaotic.

Driven by their fury, Fajri was about to be burned alive in public. Regaining consciousness from fainting, Fajri could only feel confusion and self-questioning. He realized it was futile to ask others because, apparently, he was the one being blamed at that moment. "Ahhhh.... Why has it come to this?" Fajri uttered in his mind with a sense of despair and confusion.

A few hours earlier, Fajri was strolling as usual. It was still morning, peaceful, tranquil, and cool. The sun had just emerged from its hiding place, and the clouds were getting ready to move away from the sunlight. The warmth of the morning sun began to touch the skin, warming the earth from the remnants of the night's cold. Birds chirped on the trees, and the sounds of insects in the countryside brought peace to the heart.

It was truly a perfect morning for relaxation. "If only everyone could enjoy this day and relax, release stress and fatigue together, Ahh... nothing could ruin today!" Fajri exclaimed with joy.

Fajri became aware of someone sprinting swiftly from behind, yet he chose to dismiss it. "Wow, looks like someone's out for a jog too," Fajri thought to himself.

Little did he know, the person was running like a wild boar, paying no attention to anything in front. The sound of numerous footfalls behind the person became noticeable. Consequently, the person collided with Fajri, causing him to drop the bag he was carrying.

"Ouch... Uh, what's this?" exclaimed Fajri as he opened the bag dropped by the person. Unexpectedly, it was filled with a substantial amount of money, almost overflowing. Shortly after, the sound of more footsteps grew louder. Fajri once again paid no heed, continuing to inspect the bag.

"I wonder what's in this bag; let me check. Wow, it's full of money! Whose money is this? So much of it..."

Then, not long after, a distant and muffled voice became audible. "Thief!!!!... Thief!!!!!" From afar, the voices of people running while accusing Fajri of being a thief reached his ears. It turned out the footsteps Fajri felt were the pursuing townsfolk. With no other thought but to escape, Fajri grabbed the bag and sprinted as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, just like the thief who collided with Fajri, he ran recklessly without caring about what lay ahead. The more Fajri ran, the more the townsfolk struggled to catch up. Fajri was indeed quite fast at running away from trouble. Unbeknownst to him, he collided with a parked car on the side of the road. Even though a car was clearly in front of him, Fajri couldn't stop in time. The car's window shattered, and Fajri's body ended up inside the vehicle.

The car had only two front seats and a back seat, without a trunk. Fajri found himself stuck in the middle between the front and back seats. As he paused, he pondered for a moment, "What did I collide with earlier?" Turning his head forward, unexpectedly, simultaneously, the two individuals in the front seats also looked at Fajri. Both of them had a bewildered, blank stare, unsure of what was happening to their car.

They were two intimidating-looking men. The one on the right had a face covered in scars, piercings in his ear, and unruly long hair. Meanwhile, the one on the left looked even more sinister. Almost similar to the other, but with a gash scar over his left eye and bloodstains around his lips, as if he had just finished drinking blood.

Startled, Fajri screamed as loud as he could out of shock, not knowing what was really happening in the car. For some reason, the two men also screamed in response to Fajri's scream. The driver reflexively slammed the gas pedal with all his might. The car crashed into a tree in front of it and came to a stop.

The three individuals inside passed out due to the impact on their heads. The strawberry juice that the person on the left was drinking spilled and splattered on the front windshield. This incident made it seem like a serious accident had occurred.

Shortly afterward, the townspeople who were chasing Fajri arrived. Without caring the slightest about the incident that might cause a "misunderstanding" in the car, they brought the three individuals to the center of the field. They drove stakes into the ground and tied Fajri along with the other two individuals.

As it turned out, the two individuals were part of a gang of criminals that had been hunted by the police, having committed numerous thefts and robberies in the area. The townspeople assumed that Fajri was involved in the criminal activities of the gang, especially since he was running with stolen evidence – a bag full of money.

When Fajri slowly opened his eyes, he found himself in a different place. It looked like an open space filled with people moving about. "Ahh... Yes, that's how it was," Fajri muttered, recalling the events that had unfolded. It was unclear what emotions he was experiencing at that moment – a mix of confusion, relief, disappointment, anger, and a sense of powerlessness. Fajri attempted to offer a defense, but his voice was feeble and still weak from the fainting spell.

"I'm truly helpless. The most useless person! And for some reason, I'm the most despicable one here."

The voices of the townspeople were also incoherent, a chaotic mix of confusion and speculation about what had happened, mocking the three individuals in front. Fajri, in his state, could only hear bits and pieces of the commotion, wondering what else they were making a fuss about.

In reality, Fajri lived alone in that village. The house left behind by his great-grandfather served as his shelter. No villager dared to visit or even pass by that house. Even after someone had occupied it for a week (none other than Fajri), no one dared to approach the "empty house that had been freed from its emptiness." The appearance of the house was somewhat antiquated, reminiscent of the Dutch colonial era, with an added touch of mystique due to a wooden swing hanging from a large banyan tree in the front yard.

When the commotion erupted, there was no one to defend Fajri. Some villagers were unaware that someone had moved into the vacant house. As Fajri had only been there for about a week and seldom ventured outside, he occasionally took strolls. His daily routine involved cleaning and tidying up the house, removing dust, disposing of old and damaged items, and other tasks. The village was also quite distant from other settlements, explaining the delayed response of the police. It would take at least 25 minutes.