The Second Flight of Garuda

Bukittinggi, July 1994

The city bustled like a living thing.

Vendors shouted under faded tarps. Angkot minibuses honked like geese in traffic. The air smelled of fried bakwan, ripe jackfruit, and cool mountain rain — a humid mix that clung to the skin and curled into nostrils like memory. Somewhere, a cassette blasted an old D'lloyd song. Chickens darted between baskets of red chilies and taro roots. A beggar child laughed near the fountain.

Rakha had never felt so small.

But he wasn't intimidated.

At a modest corner of Pasar Atas, nestled between a spice stall and a vendor selling knock-off watches, he set up a stall: a hand-assembled bamboo rack, a small cloth banner dyed with indigo leaves, and price tags written on sugarcane paper. Every bottle of syrup glistened under the morning light — dark amber-red, thick and unfiltered. The labels were rustic: rough-stamped with his system-drawn logo.

"Lawang Saka: Asli dari Akar Negeri"(Real from the Root of the Land)

He bent down, checked each bottle cap, wiped the condensation with his sleeve, and adjusted the alignment of the crates with the precision of a jeweler laying out gems.

He wasn't alone.

At his side stood Mak Rosnah, the widowed herbalist from Lawang, wrapped in a deep maroon selendang, hands leathery from decades of mortar work. She had insisted on coming — not because she didn't trust Rakha, but because no child should face the city crowd alone, even one like him.

She gave the bottles a quick glance, then looked at the people passing by. "City folks like pretty things," she whispered. "But they respect stories more. When they ask, don't sell sugar. Sell what it means."

Rakha nodded.

His eyes scanned the foot traffic. Housewives with plastic baskets. Students in navy skirts. A man pushing a cart of durians. He could see it all — flow, density, attention span.

[SYSTEM NOTICE]Market Context Loaded. Regional Demand Profile Matched: 43% interest likelihood based on location, time, product visibility.

Mak Rosnah leaned in again. "Your mother said you dream big. Good. But remember… even the biggest tree begins with one tapak tangan."

Rakha smiled gently. "That's why I brought roots, not just fruit."

He didn't mean just the syrup.

Then he heard it.

[SYSTEM NOTICE]

"Prototype Commerce Initiated.

Environment: Urban Market.

Confidence Estimate: 62%"

Initializing Partner Module…

"Good morning, Rakha. System identity unlocked."

"You may now address me as…G.A.R.U.D.A. Guided Adaptive Reform Utility for Development & Advancement."_

Rakha blinked. "That's… dramatic."

"Blame your subconscious. You chose it."

"Did I?"

"Who else dreams of birds before business?"

Rakha chuckled quietly. "Alright, GARUDA. What now?"

"Would you like to choose a voice personality?"Options scrolled in his mind's eye:

Strategic Formal (Think Spock meets Sun Tzu)

Witty Advisor (Light sarcasm, dry humor)

Encouraging Coach (Uplifting, energetic)

Silent Mode (Only system chimes and alerts)

He thought for a moment… then selected Witty Advisor.

"Configuration complete. Let's go charm some skeptics and outwit some capitalists, shall we?"

Rakha grinned. "Let's sell sugar."

The early crowd was thick, but their eyes moved fast — searching for discounts, trusted brands, or fried snacks. A few glanced at the stall. Fewer slowed down.

A pair of young women passed by, eyebrows raised.

"Red sugar in bottles?"

"Looks like medicine."

Mak Rosnah chuckled softly. "That's three glances. Better than zero."

Rakha didn't respond. He was focused — analyzing movement, tone, body language. His mind filtered everything like a market algorithm.

Then came the first real approach.

A middle-aged man with a batik shirt and a woven shopping bag stopped.

"This syrup. What's it for? Cough?"

Rakha stepped forward, voice calm.

"Not medicine, Pak. It's saka murni — real red sugar from Lawang, slow-boiled, no chemicals. You can use it for cooking, coffee, even traditional snacks."

The man raised an eyebrow. "And why would I buy this when pasar bawah sells gula merah for half the price?"

Rakha didn't flinch.

"Because theirs is mixed. Ours is pure — made from the old way, not factory scraps. You taste the difference, you feel the difference. And every bottle supports real farmers, not middlemen."

The man hummed, unconvinced. "Maybe next time." And walked on.

Mak Rosnah exhaled. "One of many."

An hour passed. Some brows raised, some asked, some sniffed, and still walked away. The sun rose higher, baking the concrete. Sweat darkened Rakha's shirt.

Then came a mother and daughter.

The girl tugged her mom's sleeve. "Ma, that's the boy from the paper!"

Rakha smiled slightly. "Selamat pagi, Bu. Mau coba tester?"

He handed them a tiny cup of the syrup mixed in warm water. The mother sipped cautiously. Then blinked.

"…This tastes like my nenek's kitchen."

Rakha nodded. "We use wooden vats. We boil slow. No preservatives. Just like our ancestors taught."

The woman looked at the label again.

"'Asli dari akar negeri…' You wrote this?"

"I meant every word."

She opened her wallet.

"I'll take two."

[SYSTEM NOTICE]First Sale Confirmed.Consumer Trust Level: +1%Sales Pattern Initialized: Momentum Seeded

As the bottles clinked into the bag, Rakha bowed slightly. "Thank you, Bu. This helps more than you know."

The girl grinned. "You really made this?"

He smiled. "Not alone."

Behind him, Mak Rosnah gave a proud grunt. "One bottle today. Ten tomorrow. One day, the city will line up for it."

Hours Later

The first sale took forty minutes.

People stared. Smelled. Asked. Shook their heads. Moved on.

Then an elderly woman — wrapped in a faded batik shawl — asked softly, "What's this for?"

Rakha stood taller. "Gula merah cair, Bu. Murni dari Lawang. Cocok untuk kopi, kolak, kuah sate… bahkan dijual ulang."

He let her sample a drop.

She nodded. "Halal?"

Rakha lifted the label. "Tanpa pengawet. Tanpa pewarna. Dari petani kami sendiri."

She bought three bottles. Others watched.

"That's one small pour for a grandmother… one giant leap for supply chains," GARUDA quipped.

Rakha smirked. More people stopped by. Curious. Tasting. Asking.

By noon, he had sold half the crate.

By maghrib, the rack was empty.

He packed up, fingers sticky with syrup and heart full of adrenaline.

[SYSTEM UPDATE]

Community Reputation: +10%

Product Line: Lawang Saka

Sales Phase: Completed

Funds Gained: Rp 152.000

Next Task: Brand Expansion – Distribution & Packaging Upgrade

Rakha stood at the top of Bukittinggi's slope, eyes scanning the city lights flickering like stars below.

"I want this," he whispered. "I want to build it myself."

"You are," GARUDA said quietly. "One sale at a time."

The bus rumbled out of Bukittinggi just after dusk, winding down toward Lawang through thickening mist and stretches of sugarcane fields asleep under moonlight.

Rakha sat by the window again — his crate now half-empty, his bag lined with receipts, notes, and one unexpected contact card from a curious café owner in Gadut.

He watched the passing hills not with awe, but calculation.

One stall. Seventeen bottles sold. Four repeat promises. That's proof of concept.

Behind him, the system pulsed softly in his mind.

[SYSTEM NOTICE]Local Enterprise Viability: Verified.Prototype Score: 83/100Next Tier Unlocked: Operational ScalingAdvisory Path Activated: Community-Based Enterprise Development

Lawang — Two Days Later

In the midday heat, Rakha gathered seven teenagers under the shade of the surau tamarind tree — some still in their school uniforms, some barefoot from the fields.

They weren't his classmates. Not anymore.

They were his first team.

"Why us?" asked Faiz, a wiry boy with quick fingers and a sarcastic brow. "We're not the smart ones."

Rakha sat cross-legged, notebook open on a bamboo mat.

"You are," he said. "Just not in a classroom."

He pulled out a bottle of Lawang Saka and uncapped it. "Who here helped boil this last season?"

Three hands shot up.

"Who helped me cut cane?"

More hands.

"Then this"—he held up the bottle—"is yours too. But to make it bigger, we need a system."

They leaned in as he drew diagrams in charcoal on rough paper: batch timelines, bottling flow, delivery routes, and a rotating role system. It was simple. But to them — it felt like the blueprint to a real future.

"Every sale we make, we split fair. But more than money, we build ownership. One day, Lawang Saka won't be just a product. It'll be the proof that a village can stand on its own."

Faiz looked at the label, now slightly wrinkled. "You really think we can sell to the city?"

Rakha met his eyes. "Not just the city. The country."

[SYSTEM NOTICE]Youth Mobilization Initiative: LaunchedNew Sub-Trait Unlocked: Grassroots LeadershipPrototype Production Target: 100 Bottles / Batch

That evening, Rakha stood with his father outside the sugar shed, listening to the rhythmic crack of cane splitting under blade and the bubbling churn of slow-boil vats.