Indah’s Hair is a story set in an intimate family home in a present day rural town. A little girl named Indah who is around 5 years old, struggles with her unique hair that often publicly exposes her emotions. While she struggles to take control of her loud hair, her older sister who has been her rock for years, moves away for college and changes everything.
Story/Theme: A young girl named Indah learns to embrace her “magical” hair as a reflection of her feelings, identity, and love for her older sister.
Plot: Indah struggles to control her wild hair at school, finds comfort with her sister Dian, and faces change and loss when Dian moves away, eventually growing stronger and more accepting of herself.
Characters: Indah, a sensitive and imaginative child, and Dian, her warm, supportive older sister who teaches her confidence and self-love.
Setting: The story unfolds across Indah’s school, bus rides, and especially the cozy, memory-filled rooms of their family home through changing seasons.
Resolution: Indah learns to let her hair (and her heart) be free, finding peace in change and joy in her sister’s return.
Characteristics of Indah’s hair:
When she’s happy → hair floats and crackles playfully
When she remembers sister → her hair calms down and floats down
When she’s nervous → hair sticks straight up
When she’s sad or lonely → hair gets extra wild and uncontrollable
Character Design:
Story Project - Indah’s Hair
Layout Sketches:
Text Co-written with Lieca Yuniardi:
Indah’s hair crackled, climbed with flair,
It leapt and danced through the open air.
Each morning she tried to smooth it down,
Careful and quiet, no fuss, no sound.
But up it flew, wild and free,
Refusing to be what it “ought” to be.
At school, heads turned as whispers grew,
Her cheeks burned red like a tomato-hue.
She wished her hair would listen, behave,
Just once be gentle, quiet, and brave.
On the bus ride home it buzzed and spun,
Humming along with feelings undone.
At home she opened the door just so.
There stood Dian, her smile aglow.
Indah’s joy began to bloom,
And so did her hair, filling the room.
She raised her hands to press it low,
But the more she tried, the more it would grow.
Dian reached out, both warm and kind,
Took Indah’s hands, eased her mind.
Up burst the hair like fireworks bright,
Indah felt shy in the glowing light.
But something changed. No looks, no stares,
Just Dian smiling, sunlight in her glare.
“Your hair is magic,” her sister said,
“Full of life, electric! Just like you instead.”
She wrapped Indah in a gentle embrace,
“I never want it to change its place.
Come on,” she smiled, “I’ve got an idea,”
Her voice like music Indah could hear.
In Dian’s room, the world felt right,
Warm and familiar, soft with light.
The air smelled sweet, of love and care,
Posters of dreams were everywhere.
Past and present, future too,
Dian brushed and braided, slow and true.
With gentle hands and patient grace,
Indah felt calm in that safe space.
She looked in the mirror, clear and bright,
Her hair was still hers, alive with light.
Wild at heart, but resting for now,
Peace settled gently, somehow.
For a while, life stayed the same,
Braided mornings, laughter’s refrain.
Evenings brought stories, voices low,
Wrapped in comfort’s steady glow.
Then change crept in without a sound.
Tall shapes, square ones gathered around.
Boxes appeared, both short and tall,
Filling the house, crowding the hall.
Indah’s hair noticed first of all,
It lifted and sparked by the wall.
Each box that vanished made it rise,
Crackling with truth it couldn’t disguise.
Some nights she sat on Dian’s bed,
Watching her pack the life she’d led.
Dian still laughed, but not the same,
Something quieter spoke her name.
Indah’s hair followed room to room,
Reached when Dian did, sensing the gloom.
It pressed on boxes, soft but tight,
Trying to keep things in their place.
“You’re being silly,” Dian said,
Smoothing Indah’s hair, stroking her head.
But the hair knew better, felt the truth,
Held fast to love and fading youth.
The morning Dian had to leave,
The house felt hollow, hard to breathe.
Indah stood still, heart held tight,
Her hair rose higher than ever in sight.
The door shut closed. The silence grew.
Her hair filled spaces old and new.
It climbed the walls, it hummed, it stayed,
Holding feelings words hadn’t made.
The days moved on, slow and wide.
One afternoon, with steps unsure, she tried
To enter Dian’s empty room,
Where memories still quietly bloomed.
She picked up the brush, paused, then began,
Not pushing her hair, just following her hand.
She brushed it gently, steady, slow,
The way Dian did, long ago.
Her hair sparked bright, still wild and free,
She met her gaze and finally saw me.
“Magical,” she whispered, low,
“Full of life. Electric.” and so.
Her hair crackled soft, a tender reply,
Like it heard her, like it agreed.
Winter arrived with quiet grace,
Snow kissed the windows, slowed the pace.
Coats came out from closet doors,
Time moved on, as it always does.
Indah still missed her sister dear,
But stood a bit taller year by year.
She let her hair rise, twist, and be
A living part of who she’d be.
One evening, the door opened wide,
Indah’s hair lifted just a little inside.
“Hey,” said a voice she always knew,
Indah smiled.
And so did her hair too.