CHAPTER 1
In the heart of Jakarta's slums, among narrow alleys and rusty tin rooftops, lived a little girl named Rara. Her house was barely a house — made of patched wood and tin, with no electricity, no running water, and most of all, no window.
To most people, a window is just glass in a frame. But to Rara, a window meant sunlight, breeze, and a way to see the world beyond her dark, cramped room. Her house was so dim that during the day, they still needed candles or oil lamps to see. The air inside was always hot, stuffy, and still.
> "Why don't we have a window, Mama?" Rara once asked softly, her voice filled with quiet longing.
"Because we can't afford one, sayang," her mother replied gently, brushing a strand of hair from Rara's cheek.
Though her mother tried to make things cheerful, Rara saw the truth — they barely had money for rice, let alone house repairs. But Rara didn't stop dreaming. In her heart, she imagined a bright room, sunlight dancing on the floor, and birds chirping outside a window.
Each morning, on her way to school, Rara paused in front of another house — one with a wide, beautiful window. She peeked in, not out of jealousy, but admiration. Inside she saw things she didn't have: bookshelves, curtains, and laughing children. The window became her personal portal to hope.
At school, Rara was friendly and bright. She didn't have neat uniforms or clean shoes, but she listened attentively, answered questions, and helped others. Some kids laughed at her small lunch or called her "anak miskin" (poor child), but Rara smiled through it all.
She loved to draw. Her favorite subject? Houses with big, beautiful windows. She often imagined what she'd see if she had a window: skies changing color, people walking by, rain tapping on glass, or sunlight painting golden spots on the floor.
Though poor in possessions, Rara was rich in imagination. The window may not be there in her home yet, but it was always there in her heart — open, warm, and full of dreams.