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BALAI PUSTAKA
STATE PUBLISHING AND PRINTING HOUSE

BP No. 2993

All rights reserved

First published in 1981

Cover design by Budiono


Publisher's Note

Indonesia is a country with a variety of cultures. Each region of


the country shows its characteristic traditional forms, whether in
art, dance, theatre, architecture or literature.
In this collection of Indonesian folk tales we have translated
stories typical of different cultural areas in Indonesia. In this
edition we have chosen tales from the regions of West Java, Aceh
and Bali. Most were originally transmitted orally from generation
to generation, told and re-told by different narrators.
One exception is the story of Saijah and Adinda. Supposedly
based on an actual historical occurrence, this version derives from
a tale incorporated in the novel Max Havelaar by Multatuli.
Although originating from a written text, it nevertheless has
become virtually a folk tale, due to its popularity.
The West Javanese tales were put into written form by Haksan
Wirasutisna and the Acehnese ones by M.J. Melalatoa. They show
the individual styles of the respective writers, and as such can be
enjoyed for their own narrative qualities.
The story of Calon Arang, still popular in Bali, is loosely based
on historical events in Java towards the end of the reign of King
Erlangga (1019 - 1042). This story was originally recorded on a
/oH/ar-leaf manuscript in Old Javanese, and was first translated by
the late Prof. Dr. Poerbatjaraka. The simple narrative style of the
original is maintained in this editon.
For this publication in English the publisher wants to thank
Mr. Innosanto Nagara, Ms. Krishna and Mr. David T. Hill for
their commendable translations.
Contents

WEST JAVA
Princess Sumur Bandung 11
Saijah and Adinda 19

ACEH
Genali 31
Aman Jempret 50
Malim Dewa 68

BALI
Calon Arang 81
WEST JAVA

Princess Sumur Bandung


Saijah and Adinda

by Haksan Wirasutisna
Translated by Innosanto Nagara
Princess Sumur Bandung

Once upon a time there was a kingdom called Kutawaringin.


They say it was a great kingdom: the soil was fertile and the fields
productive. Kutawaringin was a prosperous and happy kingdom.
But in this world nothing lasts forever. Day becomes night, the
dry season becomes the rainy season, people are born and die,
kings rise and fall.
So it was with the Kingdom of Kutawaringin. When our story
begins, the king on the throne was King Munding Kaling Puspa
Mantri.
He was famous everywhere, because he was not only strong and
brave, but wise and just as well. In war he was always on the front
lines to lead and encourage his armies with his words and deeds.
He treated generals and ordinary soldiers just the same: he praised
and rewarded those who did well; those who made mistakes had to
take the responsibility, and were punished if they were proved to
be wrong. So he was loved by all his people, who looked on him as
the father of the common people.
But there has never yet been a perfect creature on this earth. The
brave, wise, and praiseworthy Munding Kaling Puspa Mantri had
as his consort Queen Nimbang Waringin. In all the country there
was no one so beautiful, like a single star shining brighter than all
the others. Everyone who saw her felt, "How beautiful is the
flower of Kutawaringin."
But behind her beautiful face were traits not so beautiful. The
Queen was easily offended and jealous.
Once a party was held in the palace for the wedding of a princess
for seven days and seven nights. As usual all the ministers and
noblemen in the country came with their wives. The guests were

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greeted warmly and joyfully by his Majesty Munding Kaling Puspa
Mantri and Queen Nimbang Waringin.
When the daughter of a nobleman began to dance for the guests,
the King seemed to be attracted by her, as if he were struck by her
beauty. The Queen, jealous as she was, could not fail to notice it.
Nothing happened then, but later after the party the news
spread that the girl who had caught the King's attention with her
dancing was summoned to the palace and scolded and insulted by
the Queen.
This is only one example. Even in the government of the country
Queen Nimbang Waringin's jealous character made itself felt.
When the King planned to travel around his country to see how
things were going, the Queen always managed to prevent him from
leaving. She was afraid he might meet a girl somewhere who would
make him forget her.
So the King's work was often hindered by his wife. It isn't sur-
prising then that things began to go badly in the kingdom. It got
worse and worse until the wheels of government stopped turning
altogether.
Because they were not being watched carefully, in fact, were not
being watched at all, the officials in the country began to behave
any way they liked. They demanded whatever rents and taxes they
wanted, they forced the common people to work on their fields
first, and so on, making the peasants' burden heavier. The com-
mon people suffered.
Munding Kaling Puspa Mantri became dejected about the state
of his country and his people. He who knew no fear on the bat-
tlefield, could not face up to his own wife. It is truly said, that
sometimes the power of one woman is ten times the power of a
man.
Finally, because he felt he could no longer control the kingdom
any more, the King asked his prime Minister, Kalang Sutra, to take
over. "Dear Minister," said the King, "I cannot bear to see my
kingdom being ruined and sinking into confusion. I can no longer
control the reins of government. That is why I have sent for you."

12
"My Lord," replied the Prime Minister, "I wish only to do your
will. But please consider this matter most carefully because it is so
important."
"I have thought it over carefully," said the King. "I have great
confidence in your wisdom, and in the other ministers as well."
"My Lord, I am ready to dedicate my body and soul to the
kingdom," replied Kalang Sutra.
The Prime Minister did not want to disappoint the King. He
worked hard, doing all he could so that the government would go
well. He saw to it that there was supervision as there used to be,
that despotic actions were forbidden so that the people were pro-
tected. At last Kalang Sutra's honesty and diligence were reward-
ed. One day he received a sign, that the kingdom of Kutawaringin
would return to its former greatness and prosperity, if someone
could capture a white buffalo.
The Prime Minister went to Munding Kaling Puspa Mantri
again. He told him about the sign he had received.
"Fine, dear Minister, announce a contest, and that the man who
captures a white buffalo will be made the heir to the throne," said
the King. ' 'And if it is a woman, she will become my second wife. ' '
When Queen Nimbang Waringin heard of the King's plan,
she was furious. "Women allowed in the contest?" she cried. "I
forbid it!" Of course a jealous woman would fear the outcome. So
women were not permitted to take part in the contest.
The news of the contest spread even to the country of Bintung
Wulung. A princess of that country, Princess Sumur Bandung,
was distressed that she could not take part in the contest. For no
man was her match in courage of skill in weaponry.
She truly wished to help the unfortunate neighboring country.
She felt it was her duty to help other human beings who suffered.
She was known among her people for her advanced way of think-
ing and attitude, not like the other princesses of royal or noble des-
cent.
Princess Sumur Bandung began by calling her two brothers,
Ranggawayang and Jayamanggala.

13
"Brothers," she said, "Although I am a woman, I can't find it
in my heart to let the people of Kutawaringin suffer. We must help
them. Don't you agree?"
"Of course," answered Ranggawayang, "But you are a woman.
Women aren't allowed to take part in the contest, are they? And
capturing a white buffalo is very dangerous."
"You are right," said Jayamanggala, "But let us help Sumur
Bandung together. Surely the three of us are match for such an
animal? If we can just find one, we'll see what we can do."
So Princess Sumur Bandung and her two brothers went to the
jungle to look for a white buffalo. It was not an easy task, for the
animal lived in a place where no human being had ever gone.
There was no path, so they had to cut their way through the
bushes, undergrowth, and roots that blocked their way.
Sometimes they had to climb down riverbanks so steep that they
had to cling to tree trunks and hanging roots. They had to
go very slowly. But finally they reached their destination.
Stealthily they stalked, approaching the buffalo they sought.
Through the leaves the horns of a giant white buffalo could be
seen.
"There he is," whispered Ranggawayang, pointing to an open
space.
"Right!" answered Jayamanggala. "Now we must not be
careless for a second." They prepared for the "ambush. Princess
Sumur Bandung moved forward stalking the buffalo from behind.
Jayamanggala and Ranggawayang guarded their sister on the right
and on the left.
Suddenly the buffalo turned, seeming to catch the scent of the
humans. But Princess Sumur Bandung was not in the least afraid.
The buffalo sensed the danger that threatened it, it lowered its
head, snorting. Princess Sumur Bandung, who was only a few
steps away, suddenly jumped forward.
Deftly she seized the powerful animal's horns in her hands, then
she pushed back with all her strength. The buffalo would not give
in. Planting his back legs, he fought back, shaking his head to free
it from the Princess' grasp. Gradually the buffalo's strength gave

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fcr*f . ItAH

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Princess Sumur Bandung, who was only a few steps away, suddenly jumped forwar-

15
out; his breath came in gasps, his snorting faded, finally, panting,
he gave up.
Skillfully Ranggawayang and Jayamanggalla tied up the animal
with a stout rope, so that he was powerless.
Princess Sumur Bandung and her two brothers set out for
Kutawaringin.
Imagine the meeting of Prime Minister Kalang Sutra and
Princess Sumur Bandung. He was thankful that the white buffalo
had been caught, but he was also worried, because it was a woman
who had captured him.
After some thought, the Prime Minister said, "Let us do this!
The only way is disguise. Let the buffalo be presented to the King
by the Princess disquised as a man."
So Princess Sumur Bandung went to Munding Puspa Mantri's
palace disguised as a man.
How overjoyed the King was to see that a white buffalo had
been captured. The shadow of confusion and suffering which had
covered the country would be swept away; the country and people
of Kutawaringin would enjoy a brillant age once again.
But Queen Nimbang Waringin, being a woman, had a presenti-
ment. Even with Princess Sumur Bandung's clever disguise, the
Queen was not easy to fool. Jealous people are always suspicious
and distrustful.
With certainty she stepped forward and fiercely jerked off
Princess Sumur Bandung's false hair.
King Munding Kaling Puspa Mantri and the court servants
about him were amazed. They had not suspected that the warrior,
the conquerer of the powerful white buffalo was actually a lovely
princess. How they admired her for her courage and skill.
"Wretch! How dare you deceive us!" cried Queen Nimbang
Waringin. "You'll feel my revenge!"
She flew at Princess Sumur Bandung. They scratched, kicked
and fought. Everything was confused.The fight grew worse. Both
fought furiously. But what was the strength of Queen Nimbang
Waringin compared to the strength of the giant white buffalo?

16
Eventually the Queen seemed to weaken. She fought less
strongly.
Seeing this, the Prime Minister could not just go on watching.
He came forward to help the Queen, who had almost given up. Of
course Jayamanggala, Princess Sumur Bandung's brother could
not let that happen.
He went forward to stop the Prime Minister. Then a terrible
contest took place. The palace was thrown into confusion. The
women had stopped fighting, but the battle which took its place
was even more violent. For the Prime Minister and Jayamanggala
were evenly matched in strength, skill, and wisdom. They were
each defending their honor. Neither would give in, and neither
could win.
Princess Sumur Bandung was anxious and frightened. Who
could stop them?
"I must go to my grandfather in Kahyangan," she thought.
"Only my grandfather can help me in such difficulties." So
Princess Sumur Bandung went to Kahyangan, the home of Sunan
Ambu and the other gods.
Queen Nimbang Waringin watched her leaving suspiciously.
Then she swiftly followed her.
When Princess Sumur Bandung and Queen Nimbang Waringin
knelt before Sunan Ambu, he spoke softly, "My grandchildren,
listen carefully to what I say. I heard you fighting in the palace of
Kutawaringin. For what reason? Because of rnisunderstanding and
ignorance. Sumur Bandung honestly wanted to help and rescue
Kutawaringin from disintegration and suffering. But she was
wrong to pretend to be a man. And you, Nimbang Waringin, were
also wrong because of your jealousy. Your excessive
jealousy caused the country's confusion and the people's suffer-
ing. While all the time ...." Sunan Ambu paused for a moment.
Princess Sumur Bandung and Queen Nimbang Waringin listen-
ed carefully. "Actually ... you two are cousins. Now, you must
shake hands and ask each other's forgiveness!"
Princess Sumur Bandung and Queen Nimbang Waringin were

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could not finish the work on his rice paddies, and no paddies
would mean no rice, hunger, and not being able to pay taxes.
So with a heavy heart he sold his dagger in the city for twenty-
four rupiahs. It was enough to by a new water buffalo.
At that time Saijah was seven years old. He was still a child. He
loved the new water buffalo his father bought. He took good care
of it. Every evening he groomed the water buffalo's grey hide with
a bunch of leaves or grass until it shone. There was always fresh
grass in its pen that he cut in the field outside of the village.
Sometimes he talked to the animal as if it were a human being. So
naturally they became good friends. Saijah loved the water buffalo
and in return the water buffalo loved Saijah.
Saijah's father's rice paddies were next to Adinda's father's rice
paddies. Saijah's father and Adinda's father had agreed that the
little girl was later to marry Saijah. That was the custom in the old
days in Indonesia.
When Saijah saw Adinda's brothers and sisters they would call
to each other and joke, or praise the strength of their water buf-
faloes. How happy they were!
Days, weeks, and months passed. Saijah was nine years old and
Adinda was six. But the District Head had not changed. He was
still greedy and did whatever he wanted. He wanted Saijah's
father's water buffalo again and like before he took it without
paying for it or giving anything in return. He stole it.
For the second time Saijah's father's tears fell. For the second
time he sat sadly for hours and hours. All he could do was sigh.
Saijah, who loved his water buffalo so much, cried for a long time.
He did not want to eat or drink. He felt that his throat was stopped
up.
"Father, did you see our water buffalo in the city today? Was he
still alive?" asked Saijah sadly.
Saijah's father did not answer. He looked confused and sad. He
was thinking about how to get a new water buffalo. The only
heirloom they had left was a mosquito net holder given to Saijah's
mother by his grandmother. What else could he do: so that they
could have rice paddies, he sold it for eighteen rupiahs. Now for

20
the second time Saijah's father bought a new water buffalo, but it
was not as good as the one before it.
After a while Saijah began to love his new water buffalo. Even
though it was not as good as the one before, it had a whorl of hair
on its shoulder and people said that that was a good luck sign.
One day when Saijah was in the rice fields he had a frightening
experience. He was riding the water buffalo when it suddenly stop-
ped. Saijah was surprised and he cried out, "Come on, let's go
home! Hurry up! Hurry up!"
But this time the water buffalo would not obey. Saijah swore at
him, but the usually tame and obedient animal would not move a
step from where he stood. Saijah got angry. He kept hitting the
animal with a piece of bamboo. Suddenly he heard his friends cry-
ing, "Run! Run, Saijah! There's a tiger!"
All the children quickly slipped off their buffaloes' yokes and
then jumped back on them and ran away through the paddies, past
the dikes, mud, and bushes towards the village.
As quick as a wink Saijah slipped off his buffalo's yoke and
jumped on his back. But just at that moment a tiger sprang out of
the bushes. Because he was so startled Saijah lost his balance and
fell. The water buffalo was going so fast it ran a few meters past
Saijah. But when it saw that its master was in danger, it stopped,
turned around and stood ready over Saijah, guarding him with
lowered head. Growling, the tiger lept, but the buffalo skillfully
caught its enemy with its sharp horns. The tiger snarled in pain. Its
stomach was pierced by the buffalo's horns and blood poured out.
The King of the Jungle fell, kicked for a moment, and died. The
buffalo too had a cut on its shoulder, but it was not bad. Saijah's
life was saved.
Three years passed. Saijah's water buffalo was three years older.
It was fatter and stronger. But again, the greedy District Head
wanted Saijah's father's buffalo. He stole it and killed it. He was a
cruel man!
At that time Saijah was twelve years old. Adinda too had
become a pretty little girl and good at weaving and making batiks.
Weaving and making batiks were the main things little girls had to

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V-*/

Just at that moment a tiger sprang out of the bushes.

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learn to do in those days. But because she was sad seeing the things
that happened to Saijah's father, her batik patterns always looked
dark and sad. How unhappy Saijah's father was. Saijah's mother
was even sadder. She had tended the water buffalo's cuts after it
saved Saijah's life. But after it was well, Saijah's protector was
stolen and killed. From sadness and worry she became sick, and
finally died.
Saijah's father lost hope: his wife had died, his water buffalo
was gone, he had nothing left to sell. He was afraid because he
could not pay the taxes. He did not dare to stay in his village. One
day he secretly walked away from Badur trying to get to Bogor to
find a job.
But it seemed that he was born to be unlucky and to suffer.
When he got to Bogor he was caught and because he did not have
any travel papers he was sent back to the place he came from.
Maybe because he had suffered so much he began to lose his mind,
and he was put in jail. But he did not have to suffer much longer,
for soon after he fell sick and finally Saijah's father died in the
cold jail cell.
When Saijah's father went away, Saijah was fifteen. He did not
want to go to Bogor because he had another plan. Once he had
heard that in Betawi (now called Jakarta) there were many Dutch-
men who had carriages. The kind of carriages they had were two-
wheeled and pulled by horses. Footmen stood in back to balance
them. This job could be trusted to a young boy. If he was good,
hardworking, and honest, he could get good pay. If he saved his
money carefully, maybe after three years he would have enough to
buy two water buffaloes.
With a firm will, Saijah went to tell his hopes to Adinda.
"Dinda, when I come back we'll be old enough to get married,
and we'll buy two water buffaloes."
"I hope so, Saijah. While you're gone to the city I'll work hard
spinning and weaving sarongs."
"I trust you Adinda. But I'm only afraid that you'll marry
someone else."
"Oh, you still don't believe me? I promised not to marry anyone
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else. Wasn't that the promise between your father and mine? And
what about you, Saijah?"
"Don't worry, Dinda. I'll come back and marry you. When I
come back, I'll find you." Saijah stopped and thought for a mo-
ment and then said, "It would be better if I waited for you under
the ketapang tree at the edge of the forest."
"But how will I know when you come back?"
Saijah thought for a while and then answered, "Like this, Adin-
da. Count the months. I'll be gone three times twelve months. For
every new month make a cut on your rice mortar. When you've
made three times twelve cuts, the next day I'll wait for you at the
ketapang tree. I'll wait for you there, Dinda!"
"All right, Saijah. I promise to wait there. I hope all your plans
will work out!"
As a token of his promise, Saijah tore off a piece of his old
headband, and gave it to Adinda. And Adinda gave him some
jasmine flowers to remember her while he was gone.
The next day Saijah left, his heart heavy at leaving the place
where he was born. He passed by the city of Rangkasbitung, for his
destination that day was Pandeglang. After resting there, he went
on to the capital, Serang. How amazed he was to see so many
stone houses with tile roofs. In his village there were no houses like
that. In Serang he rested and when the sun was setting he went on
to Tanggerang.
For the first time Saijah felt sad and homesick. He longed to see
Adinda. Then he took out the package with the jasmine flowers
she gave him when they parted. His sad heart felt a little happier.
He wanted to go home, but then he remembered his plans. Hadn't
he promised to marry Adinda and buy two water buffaloes? What
would Adinda say if he came back without anything? Adinda
would make fun of him. No, he had to go on and not come back
until he had done everything he planned.
Saijah had new confidence. He was not going to give up. He
walked faster so that he would get to Betawi sooner. He was lucky
and quickly found work as a stable boy for a Dutch family. He was
a good worker and everyone liked him. From a stable boy he

24
became a servant in the house. He got more pay and he wore clean,
fine clothes. He had changed. But he never forgot his plans and his
promise to Adinda. So after he had worked almost three years, he
asked to leave. His mistress was surprised and asked, "Why are
you stopping? Don't you like it here?"
"Oh no, I miss my home and I promised to marry someone
there before I left," answered Saijah.
"All right, then," replied his mistress.
Saijah got travel papers and recommendations. Then he got
ready to go back to Badur and Adinda, whom he had left for three
years.
How happy Saijah was. He was going home to where he was
born. He walked so fast it seemed his feet had wings. While he
walked he counted up all he had. In one bamboo container he had
his papers. In another tied to his belt he had thirty ringgits. How
heavy that much money was! Enough to buy three water buf-
faloes. He had a dagger in a copper sheath covered with silver. And
still another thing: a wide pendant with a gold chain, ... a present
for Adinda! And finally in a small silk bag he had the dried
jasmine flowers.
He did not notice the places he passed. All he thought of was
Badur, and Adinda. He wanted to get there as fast as he could. He
remembered the days when he was young, playing in the rice pad-
dies and fields with Adinda's brothers and sisters. He imagined
Adinda, a slim village girl, with black hair and sparkling eyes.
Saijah did not feel tired. He walked on, rested a moment, then
walked on again. When the moon began to rise he could see the
teakwood forest far away. Tomorrow I will see Adinda there,
thought Saijah. He walked faster. In the dim moonlight he looked
for the ketapang tree. Under that tree Adinda had given the
jasmine flowers to him to remember his promise to her. He sat
under it watching the stars and the moon. He sat there for hours.
He did not feel the time passing. The sky began to get lighter. The
sun came up slowly.
Patiently Saijah waited. Adinda did not come. He was still pa-
tient. Had she forgotten her promise, or was she just late? Maybe,
25
thought Saijah. The day got lighter. Adinda still did not come.
Saijah lost his patience. He could not wait any longer. He stood up
suddenly and ran to the village.
The village people recognized him and called out, "Saijah! Sai-
jah!" But it was as if he did not have ears. He ran on to the end of
the village looking for Adinda's house. He could not find it. He
ran back but it was no use. Saijah was like someone who had lost
his mind. He stopped and held his head in his hands and cried,
"I'm going crazy! I'm going crazy!"
Of course Saijah could not know that Adinda's house was not
there any more. Since the District Head took Adinda's father's
water buffalo, she had gone along to Cilangkahan on the West
coast of Banten. Adinda's father and the whole family had left
with some other people because they could not pay their taxes.
Then they took boats and crossed the Sunda Strait towards Lam-
pung. All this happened while Saijah was in Betawi.
An old woman who felt sorry for Saijah took him into her hut.
There she took care of Saijah. He.got better but people were sur-
prised to hear him shout, "I don't know where I'm going to die! I
don't know where I'm going to die!"
One night when there was a full moon Saijah went out quietly.
He looked for the place where Adinda's house used to be. It was
hard, for it had fallen down long ago. Over and over he tripped
over old pieces of bamboo on the ground.
He found the bamboo cot Adinda used to sleep on. That was all
that was left of the house of the girl he loved.
The next day Saijah asked for help to find Adinda's old rice
mortar. The mortar now belonged to someone else. Without say-
ing anything he counted the cuts on the mortar. There were ... 32.
So it lacked only four cuts. That meant that Adinda and her family
had left four months ago from Badur.
It turned out that Saijah was not rally crazy, for he thought
about the old woman who had taken care of him. He gave her
enough money to buy one water buffalo. And then he bought a
small sampan. With that sampan he crossed to Lampung to look
for Adinda, for he still had some hope. At that time the situation

26
in Lampung was very dangerous, for people from Banten who had
escaped to Lampung were rebelling against the Dutch East Indies
Government. One day Saijah walked by himself into a village that
had just been burned by the Dutch army after they cleared out the
rebels. He walked into a house that had only been partly burned
down.
Suddenly his foot touched a body. He looked at the body. It was
the body of Adinda's father. Next to him were the bodies of three
of Adinda's cousins, and not far from them was a fifth body. Sai-
jah began to tremble, for it was Adinda, whom he had searched
for, for so long. On her chest was a deep wound.
Saijah had no more hopes. Nothing meant anything to him any
more. His father, mother and all his relatives were gone. Now
Adinda, the only person he loved, lay dead.
Saijah did not care about his life any more. He fought the Com-
pany soldiers bravely. He was not afraid of bayonet, knife, or
musket. With all his might he pressed his chest against the
bayonets until they pierced his chest. Soon afterward he died. That
was the end of Saijah's story.
This is one of the stories which reminds us about the bitterness
and cruelty of that colonial period.

27
ACEH

Genali
Aman Jempret
Malim Dewa

by M.J. Melalatoa

Translated by Krishna

29
Genali

For a long time he had been absorbed in some work. For a long
time his children had been buzzing around him like flies. Most of
them got impatient but theire father paid hardly any attention to
them. Once he seemed to remember something. He got up and
went indoors with the flock of eyes following his every movement
keenly. A little later he emerged with some wire, cut it up into
seven pieces. He sharpened the bits of wire and began shaping
them into fishing-hooks. The children got more and more excited,
they stood breath-less with anticipation. They dreamt of the wide
sea and the fishes they would pull out of it.
Their father was so absorbed in his work that he ignored com-
petely the reactions of his children. Suddenly he realized one piece
of wire was missing. He looked around, he counted the pieces
again. The children stood wondering what the matter was.
"What's up, Pa?" one of them asked.
"There should be one more bit of wire."
Some of them made a gesture of looking for it, others paid no
attention what so ever.
He looked sharply into the eyes of the children. His eyes were
suspicious, and the children knew it. Quickly and quietly he look-
ed around the children, he was surprised.
"Where's Genau?" he asked after his favorite child, his
youngest. The children started counting themselves too.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, sev ...", they stopped. One of
the children tried again.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, there", he said looking
at his father.
"One short" another pointed out.
"Ya, where is Genali" their father repeated.
Apparently Genali had vanished, without anyone noticing him,
the suspicion in the father's eyes gave way to worry. They all
realized that Genali must have taken that bit of wire.
The father got back to his work. The children stood observing
him and wondering about Genali.
"Where the hell is he, get him", said their father half absorbed
in his work. The one who had caught his father's eyes went off
reluctantly, others paid no heed to the command.
Genali had already reached the sea-beach, he was on the edge of
the sea, far from their home. The string he had stolen from his
mother's sewing-box, he attached to the piece of wire that was yet
to be sharpened and shaped. And he sailed towards the deep
waters on a plank of wood. Full of hope, he sunk his line into the
water.
The wooden plank that he rode, swayed under him, pushed by
the waves that rolled out towards the shore. Genali sat still as
though he was deep in meditation. He was waiting for a fishhe
was sure one would attach itself to his line. Just one, and he'd be
happy, he'd run home fast as lightning. He'd proudly present his
fish to his mother, his father, his brothers and sisters. How they
would all admire him, especially all his brothers: he sat there day-
dreaming, thus.
As he sat there full of hope, he suddenly felt a tiny pull on his
line. He was so thrilled that his heart raced in his breast, just as the
waves raced towards the shore. In his mind's eye he saw a fish,
with which he ran home, fast as the wind, his father's face lighting
up as he welcomed Genali, his brothers and sisters pouring around
him in admiration, all looking up at him with great respect. Such
were the thoughts that filled his mind.
The magic of the sea continued to pull him. The more he believ-
ed in his good fortune, the more joyous he became, and the
stronger was the pull on his hand. His father's happy face was mir-
rored more and more clearly on the surface of the sea. Once the
pull was so strong that the boat almost upturned. The pull only
made him more vigilant in the pursuit of the prey. He was sure that
in a while it would succumb to him. But the line stretched out more

32
tensely, the atmosphere grew tense with it. The pull from below
was growing powerful. Genali wound his line several times around
the reel, still believing that he'd win. His boat moved like a ship
just released from its anchor with Genali perched on it like a
resolute captain. The boat floated further and further away from
the shore. Genali, absorbed in his fishing, seemed not to know
this. The fish for which he craved, was not yet out of the sea. He
kept releasing and reeling in the line in his hand, in an effort to tire
out the fish.
Once in a while, when his concentration lapsed, he'd look
around, and his distress would grow. From time to time he was
overcome by an apprehension of death. But then in the mirror of
the sea he would see the sad face of his mother, his brothers and
sisters being ordered to look for him, and he'd shake off his
pessimism. If I don't get back home by evening they're sure to feel
terribly sad, they're sure to cry, he thought consufed and distress-
ed as he floated further out in the sea.
He looked around gloomily. His troubled imagination loomed
on him like a dark cloud. Despite the confusion, he held on tightly
and carefully wound the line around the reel, and drifted ... who
knew where.
At least his boat wouldn't sink until the wood rotted. He was
safe, he thought.
For days and nights Genali floated in the sea, for days and
nights remained in woe and fear. But still he persevered. He had
been starving for days, and there was only the sea water to quench
his thirst.
His boat pulled ahead towards some uncharted shore. In his
heart was only one prayer: may this strange fish in its mercy carry
him back to the shore where his mind and soul were anchored, the
shore where his mother was weeping out her eyes. But his earnest
prayers met with no answer.
One morning his eyes that thirsted for the sight of land, sud-
denly saw a distant patch of solid grey. His heart jumped in joy.
He watched eagerly. Then his hesitation returned, he rubbed his

33
eyes. His grew apprehensive againfor days he had known only
dread and doubt.
"I wonder if that animal will attack, it's too big to be human,"
he thought and swallowed hard.
"And, and, I'm small enough to be swallowed by it."
He rubbed his eyes again and again to make sure he was seeing
right. All of sudden his heart cried out in joy, "It seems, I have
been facing a test these last few days," he wept in happiness, then
a confident smile settled on his face. "Oh, I've returned safely.
I'm saved," he whispered tiredly to himself.
"Pa, Ma, here, your boy's come back! I know you've suffered
for days. Forgive me!"
His face was bright in the light that reflected off the waves. The
earth spread out before him promising fulfilment of his hopehe
was going back to those who loved him, back into their embrace.
And then it began to rain. A joyous drizzle, that seemed to cheer
his arrival. Genali felt it was a spray as cool and fresh as was fit for
a returning hero.
The grey land was surely not a mirage. It was real. But why
why was it so small? Genali wondered, hardly big enough to be the
central square of the city. There were no large trees, only grass
sprouted all over it and a few bushes grew here and there. It was as
though the island had sprung to life only recently. The boat and
the sailor continued to be drawn towards the island by some
unknown force. Genali felt he was having a pleasant dream; for in
all his life he hadn't seen such and island, had'nt even heard of
some thing like this in a fairy tale. He was sharply shaken out of
his daydream as the boat struck the island.
"Strange ship," he whispered. He looked up at the skyv as if in
prayer. Then slowly he hung his head.
"Strange fish, strange fishing-rod! Who has wished all this
upon me? Is it God or is it this little fish?" He looked at the reel
it was still neatly rolled up. Slowly he stepped on to the land, stood
straight and drew a long breath.
He started pulling up the line; it began to come up smoothly.

34
"Strange! Now he gives himself up to me, after he has got me
into this strange island". He kept reeling in the line. And at the
end of it there appeard a wriggling little fish. It didn't seem to have
any fight left in it perhaps strength had all been used up in the
long journey they had come through together. Tired though he
was, Genali kept rolling up the line. He admired the shining little
thing at the end of the line.
"Little gold fish," he drew a deep breath; he was struck by
wonder.
"Such a little fish," he repeated, talking to himself.
"How could it pull such a big boat for such a long time?"
"I don't know," he answered himself, shaking his head.
He took the fish off the hook and tied it to a bush. Genali
watched the fish wriggling. He moved his fingers along the line
that had been embedded in the little fish for so many days.
Genali looked round desperately, his eyes took in the whole of
the tiny island. Then he turned to the direction from which he had
come. There was solitude all around.
Idly he started to explore the island. To the north, to the south,
to the eight directions from which the winds blew, there was
nothing to attract his attention. The emptiness was over-
whelming; lonely and dreary.
Tired of roaming around the tiny island, he lay down. He could
lie wherever he wanted to. From the north, from the south, from
the eight directions of the winds, there came none to disturb him.
Tired of lying around, he'd get up again to walk around till the
run rose high in the sky. Late at night, or early ifi the dawn, there
was nothing to break his solitude. The only thing that broke this
boredom was brooding brooding like a sick chicken! He finally
even got enough of brooding. And all this time he had eaten
nothing apart from eating out his heart. This went on for days, for
months, and more. Walk around, lie around, brood and eat out
his heart. Once in a while he would take a look at his little friend
who lay tied down on the beach. This was the only place where he
could talk to another creature. Otherwise he had to talk to himself.

35
Slowly his clothes began to wear out and finally they fell away
together. But Genali didn't worry about it.
There was one thing, though, that he never forgot. Pray-pray to
the Lord, Genali knew all this was His will. He had been told one
night by his father, just before he fell asleep: "Everything depends
upon God's will. All our desires and wishes are subject to His.
People who don't pray will incur his anger." His father's warnings
were still fresh in Genali's mind, so he always prayed. Hopefully
...he thought. Hopefully ... what? He didn't even know what to
hope for!
He grew used to solitude, it didn't seem so oppresive any longer.
Sometimes a plan took shape in his mind; he hardly understood
the plan himself ... where did the idea come from ... and why?
How was it to be executed? He turned the plan over in his mind.
Sometimes he talked about it to his little friend on the beach.
Sometimes he congratulated himself for having such a brilliant
plan. But one problem he could not solvealthough he tried to
time and again: how would he bring about that which was not
there? For this he always turned to God and hoped He wouldshow
him the way.
He alleviated his boredom by traveling from one fancy to
another, from one dream to another, from one puzzle to another.
The rhythm of the waves was the only musicat times it sounded
sweet. But sometimes he hated it all so much, that he thought that
the little island was hell. For indeed solitude is hell.
One day, when he was deep in thought, he fancied he saw
another distant island ... or was it a mirage? His eyes focused
sharply on the image trying to make sure what it was.
"I'm wrong," he sighed, between trembling lips. His eyes re-
mained alert.
"No," he argued with himself, the image is growing clearer. His
heart clamoured loudly in hope and fear.
"It's moving towards me, towards this tiny island," his heart lit
up with hope.

36
"It must be coming to fetch me, it must have come looking for
me at my loving father's command. Or ... or, perhaps Pa, Ma, and
just everyone is on that hip!" He seemed more and more sure that
help was near.
The vessel got closer. Genali waved his arms wildly and shouted.
Surely the people on the ship could see him now! The ship creeped
along.
Then it passed Genali by, betraying not the slightest hint of hav-
ing seen him!
"Devil!" hissed Genali.
"Devil!"
Oh, the heartlessness of mankind! Their apathy had pierced
deep into Genali's soul. He waved his hands even more wildly. His
voice was hoarse, hurling at once words of entreaty and hatred at
the inmates of the ship. Gradually he got exhausted from waving
and screaming; he was beaten, beaten by the apathy. He was tired
and dejected.
How brutal was mankind! They didn't care for each other. His
heart cried out, damning those people. Why must men act thus
towards each other. Why! His heart screamed out piercing the sky.
Genali couldn't take his eyes nor his mind off the slow mov-
ing vessel. It now seemed to be changing its course. Genali looked
carefully.
"Truly, truly, they are coming back towards me. Why did they
change their mind?" Genali asked himself. He regretted somewhat
for having cursed them so much. Surely, they felt pity for him.
Human beings love their own kind! They were sent to earth to give
and receive love.
As the vessel moved closer, Genali started to wave his arms
again in joy and hope, which now seemed sure to be fulfilled. But
the crew on the ship responded very coldly. Their faces reflected
doubt and fear. Some whispered amongst themselves. Some stood
calmly, trying to get hold of their feelings. Most of them were full
of curiosity, but at the same time they are put off by a feeling of
aversion.

37
Genali started to wave his arms.

38
What sort of a creature was it that lived on this island all alone!
Surely that wasn't a human being! Perhaps it destroyed all the
passing vessels. Thus thought the sailors. Doubts and fears made
them forget the sailors code of behaviour. They were facing a pro-
blem that had no precedents in their past experience in navigation.
"Ever seen anything like this, you've been sailing the seas for
ages," someone asked an elderly man. The latter shook his head in
reply.
"Strange, that a ship should change its course, all by itself,"
said the old man to himself.
Meanwhile the captain tried to get the ship away from the island
of the naked man. But no amount of force could move the ship off
its course. The crew, their minds full of question, gaped at the
queer scene as they tried to get away from it.
Their attitude upset Genali.
"It seems they have only come back to bother me," he thought.
"But it doesn't matter. I have to ask for help." He tried to be
patient.
By and by he grew suspicious again.
"Perhaps this isn't a vessel of ordinary human beings at all.
They are creatures who have come to frighten me. May be, it's
they who own this curious little island. And they are probably
angry with me," he cautioned himself.
"Or perhaps they own the whole ocean and they are now going
around their island one by one. They are trying to guard it against
anyone else taking over their territory. And if there is any strong
and foreign army, they are to destroy it."
"But then I don't look like a conqueror," Genali explained, to
no one in particular.
"I am only a poor soul who has been brought by fate to this
damned island.
I have my own country, where I want to live. But I don't even
know in which direction it lies. If I was to be taken back to my
family, only to turn to dust once I was there, I would still rather
that, than live in such solitude. Hey, Sea, hey, Waves, or whoever

39
else can hear me, I m not a conquerer, not even descendant from
one."
The ship had moved away again, it was almost lost in the grey
mist. Genali smiled bitterly.
"Oh, no, I'm no conquerer. I am only an unfortunate man in
the midst of solitude."
His eyes, still observing the ship on the horizon, saw it change its
course again.
"Gee, they seem to be coming back. They have decided that I
am trying to take over their island. Else, why should they come
back? They'll get me and pull me to bits. They don't want anyone
to take this island. They won't hear my explanation that I have
been brought here only by accident. No doubt they are coming
towards me. Moving in on their prey, at the order from their
master. I've come to the end of my days. Dying unknown to all,
apart from myself and those sailors". Genali shuddered. His
frightened fantasy knew no bounds. He remembered the loving
embrace of his mother. He thought what happy lives his brothers
and sisters were living, enjoying their parents affection. While he,
poor Genali, in a little while, would be facing the supreme Lord!
The sea breeze blew gently over his body. Why did he ever call
out to that ship, he thought angrily. Now the ship was getting
closer again.
The crew stared open-mouthed at Genali. Fright and uncertain-
ty seemed to have taken over the ship.
"So surprising that the ship should move on its own will.
Perhaps it can even sink us at its will. It's just playing around with
us," said one of the frightened members of the crew. The others
only half listened to him. An elderly member of the crew sug-
gested:
"Let us pray to God for His guidance. With His help, we shall
be able to overcome this danger. But if this be His will, we can do
nothing about it."
The advice passed from mouth to mouth. Some raised their
hands in prayer.
40
The ship was now only a little distance away from the beach
where Genali stood. Genali collected his thoughts and came to a
conclusion.:
"If indeed I am their prey, they can do what they want unto me.
If 1 am regarded as trespasser well, indeed this land is not mine,
nor that of my ancestors. This is probably their ancestral land. It is
their duty to save this land from falling into other hands. I have
no right to be here nor do I wish to be here!"
Then Genali tried to reasure himself.
"Is it possible that none of them will have any pity for me?
Won't any of them have a heart as tender as I knew among the
people of my village?" Genali let his mind wander far away, as he
waited for the vessel to land. The vessel too seemed to be slow and
unwilling.
"If they want me to go away and live with them, I am happy to
do so. That will at least ensure that I go on living for a while
longer!"
The ship had landed. The passengers and crew gazed fixedly at
this naked man. Genali thought their eyes were accusing him. He
waited for them to scream out their charges against him. He waited
for the explosion with a trembling heart. But nothing was said.
Each side regarded the other with suspicion. Impatient with
waiting, Genali drew upon the last reserve of his courage and
spoke softly: "I called out to you, gentlemen." Genali looked
from one face to another, trying to anticipate which of those men
would be the first to give vent to his fury. All the brows were fur-
rowed. Genali could wait any longer. He wished something would
change the unbearable situation. "I called out to you, gentlemen,
again and again. I waved my hands so that you could see me." He
waited for an answer. But the sailors just looked on spell-bound.
Genali was really annoyed, and spoke rudely: "You people seemed
so arrogant. I thought you were having fun at my expense."
Hearing that the sailors looked at each other and whispered as if
holding a consultation, Genali thought for a moment.
41
Actually, gentlemen, if you will be so good, I wish to seek a
favour from you," he said hesitantly.
"Could you possibly fulfill my requests?" he added with a little
more courage.
"What do you want, Sir?" asked one of the sailors. Both sides
were now very polite and respectful in their speech.
Genali hesitated again. What should he ask for. Should he ask
to be taken from the island? Who knows where they'd take him.
He could be killed in the end. He'd rather strugle alone and die
alone. Because he felt safer now, he thought he would start by
making a gesture of good-will.
"I wish to send a gift to your king. Would you take it to him?"
The inmates of the ship looked at each other, not knowing how to
respond. One of them spoke up: "With pleasure. What would you
like to send, Sir?" Genali went to where the fish lay.
"Some of these men are okay," he thought. He felt he would be
saved soon. If not tomorrow ... then the day after.
"What's important is that I try to attract the king's attention."
"Hope you gentlemen will carry this little fish to your king. I
hope this gift will please him." The sailors received the fish
graciously. The two sides politely thanked each other for their
kindness. Yet though they were evidently unharmed so far, they
remained suspicious about how this situation would develop.
"Do you have any other message for our king, Sir? We are hap-
py to convey it to him, for you." Genali was pleasantly surprised
by their generous offer. He answered without even bothering to
think carefully.
"Should your king be so kind, I should like a white cock with
sharp claws and about four arm-lengths of white cloth."
Taking this message, the sailors set off again, with many ques-
tions in their minds, still unanswered. The vessel creeped into the
mist. Gradually, it vanished from sight.
Soon after reaching their own country, a group of these sailors
met their king. With a great deal of eagerness they proceeded to
42
report to the king their strange experience. The king listened atten-
tively and graciously received the gift of the fish from foreign seas.
It pleased the king. "I feel honoured receiving this gift. I'm sure
this fish is extremely tasty." The king smiled widely. He ordered
that it be cooked at once with delicate spices and be served to him
and his chief queen for dinner.
But the king was to be surprised again for when the fish was cut
up, they found large, bright and valueable diamonds in its
stomach!
Having seen this wonderful gift with his own eyes, the king
remembered the other message that the sailors had brought from
the man on the island. The king began to wonder what to do about
it. He couldn't decide by himself. So he called for an immediate
meeting of all his counsellors. The council included the ministers,
the religious leaders, the fortune-tellers and members of the royal
family. He also asked the sailors who had met the strange man, to
join the meating.
"Today, I have called all the counsellors, as well as some of our
sailors, There is a matter which I regard as being of national im-
portance. It is not just a matter for the residents of the palace
alone, or for ministers only, but perhaps it concerns the whole of
the populace. I feel this is not a problem that can be solved by just
a few of us, and certaintly not by me alone." The king reported to
the council the story of the sailors and showed them all the jewels
that had come from the fish's stomach. Everyone was struck dumb
with wonder.
"Apart from this," the king continued, "This man asked for a
white cock with sharp claws and four arm-lengths of white cloth,"
the king finished and looked around the assembled counsellors.
"Now you have heard it all. What do you think this means?"
No one spoke. They were all thinking hard. The king's magician
broke the silence. He said: "I think this is no great problem. The
man probably means no harm. He only wants to be good to us and
in return expects generosity from us, from our king. That's all."
The magician seemed proud that he had been able to present his
43
ideas. The councellors whispered and nodded. The king looked
satisfied, too.
But one old sailor warned: "Be careful, whatever you do." The
magician looked bashful, embarrassed since his vanity had been
wounded by the old sailor's objection. The rest of the assembly re-
mained silent. Everyone seemed to have been struck dumb again,
the ministers, religious leaders, and all.
"Yes, let's try to think carefully about this," the king looked
hopefully around his audience. He waited for some suggestion
from some one any one. Once more there was a long silence.
"If no one can deal with this, let me take a decission. I shall go
by the suggestion of my magician." The magician glowed with
pride.
"I order the sailors to carry the things the man wanted to his
island." The king picked up the hammer to bang the session to a
close.
But Princess Terus Mata grabbed her father's hand. "Don't,
Father, don't."
"You are being reckless, Father, and all your counsellors are
fools," she looked around angrily. Every body was stunned by the
princes' sudden gesture. The king too was confused. The magician
turned red in shame.
"Are your counsellors always this stupid in facing problems of
government?" She looked at her father.
"You must revise your thoughtless decission."
"What is it my child?"
"You are being reckless, Father."
"Perhaps, Dear!"
"Perhaps Dear?!" She repeated her fathers words, forgetting
herself in her anger. Her eyes glistened, tears began to roll out. A
dead silence descended upon the assembly, as if they were sitting
around someone's death-bed. "Why are you so angry, my child,
that you go against your own father?" her mother asked gently.
"These ministers, and everybody here, and especially that magi-
cian," the princess pointed at her target. "They must be dismissed
44
at once" ... The atmosphere was tense and the magician trembled
with fear.
The princess fell silent and hung her head, burdened down by
distress.
"Forgive me, Sire," she said heavily as she slowly raised her
eyes to her father's face.
"You must forgive me too, my child," the king said, choked
with emotion.
"What, my dear, do you know about all this? Please tell us,"
requested the king.
"Your decision was one that would bring calamity to all your
subjects. Is it the job of this counsil to bring on calamity?"
"That was not our intention, at all, my child."
"But that's what your decision just did."
"We didn't know."
"But shouldn't some one know?"
"Well, if we don't know> and then as a result of our ignorance,
calamity descends upon us, it is God's will that it should be so."
Her father's argument only angered the princess*. "God helps
those who help themselves. The curse will come upon us only if we
make no effort to fight it. Your counsellors and your magician
don't seem to know their jobs."
"Once again, I beg your pardon, my child. If there's something
you know, tell it to this assembly."
She bowed her woebegone face. The audience felt her sorrow.
She didn't seem angry any more when she raised her head to look
at her parents.
"He didn't ask for a white cock, Sire."
"This state will fulfill his demand, whatever it may be. I pro-
mise, Darling. Just say what it is. Just say it," he repeated.
"You really don't know what he wants?" she asked hoarsely.
The king and his court stood bewildered.
"He wants me. The white cock is really me, your daughter,
Sire."
"You're mad," started her mother, as if struck by lightning.
"That's impossible."

45
"It's not impossible; indeed it is the truth and there is no point
trying to argue with reality."
"You are dreaming, Terus Mata," her mother said sharply.
"No, I am not dreaming now; but I did have a dream some
nights ago, and knew that this was going to happen."
"Oh, surely you are day-dreaming, my child," said the Queen,
annoyed.
"You didn't think you were all dreaming when you got that
strange fish."
"But are you ready to go, Terus Mata?"
"My father is already sworn to fulfilling the demands ...."
"I am not," said the king taken aback." When did I swear?"
"You are ill, Terus Mata."
"Not at all. I am in perfect health, Mother. But this court is
stupid and they are going to bring distress to our people."
"How you denounce us all, Terus Mata!" the king said ex-
asperated.
"Your accusation has no basis."
"The basis, Sire, is that you received the fish and ate it without
any consideration of what these strange incidents were all about.
You just felt honoured by the gift. God!" She exclaimed.
The king felt as though he had been stabbed in the heart, he
looked at the floor, while his daughter continued calmly.
"Now you have to face the concequences of all that has happen-
ed. And nothing is impossible. Perhaps all this was destined to
happen to me, to you two, Mama and Papa, to all of us, to this
land." Her mother could no longer hold back her tears. The
Princess walked up to her mother, they embraced each other. The
whole court was touched by their love and their sorrow.
"Is there no way out, my darling?" asked the Queen, releasing
her daughter from her arms.
"There is, Mother."
"What is it, my child," she stepped forward to embrace her
child again. But Terus Mata stepped back.
"The alternative is for every one in this kingdom to face
disaster." Her mother's heart shrunk in fear, at these words.

46
"And now with all due respect, I bid you, my Father and my
King ...". The king looked listlessly at the hammer; he picked it up
. . . h e seemed nailed to the floor. The Princess' voice trembled as
she issued the orders.
"Pick it up!" The king picked the hammer up unwillingly,
"And bang itu!" The hammer came down slowly, of its own ac-
cord. Silence reigned supreme, only the Queen's sob broke
through it from time to time. Terus Mata hung her head; her
misery flowed out of her eyes in drops of tears. The meeting
dispersed in confusion.
Within a few days the provisions needed to set sail were made
ready. These included horses, oxen, chickens, ducks and a lot of
other things.
On an auspicious day, Princess Terus Mata, set out with her
escorts, towards her new land. Tears of her subjects and her
parents flooded the harbour.
As the ship vanished beyond the mist, they could hear the
princess singing from the deck of the slowly moving ship. She
sang.
"Fare-well, the sky above our heads. Peace be to my
motherland. May you embrace and protect all that is yours, while I
go wandering towards my future."
The ship sailed through the mist for a whole month. The
travellers on it were determined to face up to their unknown future
in the new land. A dark mound now appeared on the horizon. The
sight of it increased Terus Mata's heart beat. What did the future
hold?!
The ship docked at the edge of the island. The sailors who had
stopped here before had called it 'Linge'. For that was the sound
they seemed to have heard when Genali had called out to them.
From their ship, they could see a human figure. It was a com-
pletely naked man. The women hid the faces behind their veils.
One man carried to Genali the piece of cloth he had ordered, to
cover himself.
Shy and blushing, Terus Mata walked ashore, while her atten-
dants got things organized in the ship.

47
The first meeting of a hesitant handshake beneath faces bowed
shyly, started a new epoch of history. Gradually the two drew
close to each other, as was evident to all from their friendly
behaviour and the sweet expression on their faces.
One bright afternoon Genali took Terus Mata out to the beach
where he had once kept the fish. Terus Mata asked him politely.
"How did you come to be here?"
"It was all beyond my control, perhaps it happened by the will
of the All Powerful One."
Between words he looked in admiration at the serene face of the
princess.
"And may I know your real name?" Genali told her his name.
He added: "But I don't know what's real and what isn't, any
longer. That was the name by which I remember being addressed
by my parents." Genali hung his head. His mind travelled back to
his family, especially to his parents.
"Forgive me if I seem sentimental. I am thinking of my parents.
Perhaps they are still looking for me. Probably they are very old
now. They've grown old through worrying about me, and in their
hearts, they still weep for me."
Terus Mata wiped her eyes. She could control herself no longer
and wept as if her heart would break.
"I had to tell you, because you asked," Genali said.
"But if God is willing, we will see our parents again."
Terus Mata tried to reassure herself and Genali.
"Yes, perhaps. Who can tell! But if my mother has died broken
hearted because of me, the knowledge would be too great a burden
to bear. If she has died of old age, then I would still wish to visit
her grave. But where can I go in search of her? I can't even recall
the direction from which I came. Besides since your ship has been
here, I have felt as if all that is mine is here with me."
Terus Mata's eyes glistened as she heard Genali. It pleased her
to hear Genali speak thus.
"Thank heaven, that you have been able to overcome your
misfortune. And I have come here to help you."
From then on Terus Mata and Genali were open and honest with

48
each other. Finally, on an auspicious day they were married by the
priest who had accompanied Terus Mata. The marriage was
celebrated for seven days and seven nights according to the con-
vention of the Princess' country.
At the end of the celebrations, they held a consultation and
decided to make Genali the head of the state of Linge. He was
given the title of 'Kejurun'. The kejurun of Linge, was aided by
two wise men with titles of 'Peutu' and 'Imem'. In all decisions,
the head of the state was to be guided by these two officers.
Almost unnoticed by the people and their leader, the state of
Linge grew bigger. For the water receded, and more and more land
arose from below the sea. The island was planted with trees
brought from Terus Mata's country and the animals had begun to
procreate. The light of prosperity was unfolding before the people
of Linge under the wise leadership of their head and his advisers.
In the midst of peace and prosperity, the head of the state of
Linge was blessed with a son who was named Johanshah. After the
son Johanshah, a daughter was born and she was named Merah
Abuk.
And so Genali and Terus Mata were truly blessed, for they had a
son and a daughter whom they loved. And even more blessed was
Genali, as the trusted leader of a people, who were graced with
peace and prosperity.

49
Aman Jempret

Even before dawn had broken, Inen Jempret was usually half-
way through her way to the rice-mill, that lay some distance from
her house. Usually she carried a basket in her hand and a sack
under her arm.
She always crossed the dikes between plots of land wit quick
steps. Sometime sh would have to jump over a gutter, and this she
did with the expertise of long practise.
By the time the sun had climbed out from behind the eastern
hills, she was already on her way back towards home carrying with
her the broken bits of rice that she had gathered from among the
piles of husk left behind from the rice that had been threshed the
day before. This was what she and her husband Aman Jempret ate
each day.
They were very poor. They possessed no land at all apart from
the plot on which their broken little house stood. They didn't just
feel poor because they didn't have land, after all, they were still
holding their body and soul together, they still found something to
eat, no matter what terrible hardships they underwent. But their
worst affliction was solitude. They could find no way to fill their
loneliness.
They had no children, no one to shower their affection on, and
no one to look up to for support in their old age. Indeed no one to
turn to even now.
For years they had accepted this as the will of God". They had
long carried with them this sorrow of unfulfilment. They had
learnt to be patient and hadn't allowed despair to overshadow
their lives completely.
When Inen Jempret returned with the rice each day, her hus-
band was out of the house. In fact, he used to leave the house soon

50
after she did. With a fish-trap on his shoulder, he went each day to
the little river nearby. There he sunk his fish-trap and sat fishing
through the day.
On the way back he'd picked handfuls of leaves from the rows
of edible fern, to have as vegetables along with the fish he had
caught. Usually Inen Jempret prepared a dry mixed vegetable dish
with the fern leaves, and the fish was dried too. This was the cou-
ple's most favourite food.
One evening after having filled himself with the dried
vegetables, Aman Jempret spoke to his wife.
"Inen Jempret," he said tenderly and thoughtfully.
"Yes," his wife answered carelessly from behind the kitchen
wall which separated them. During the day time Inen Jempret
would use this kitchen to cook their meals, in the evenings it was
the place where they warmed themselves.
"I have a special plan for tomorrow." Inen Jempret sat silent,
not in the least interested in what Aman Jempret had to say.
"I am not going to the river tomorrow. I have other plans." He
explained what he had said before since he realized that his wife
wasn't paying any attention.
"What plan?" she asked coldly.
"When I was coming home this afternoon, I thought of
something."
"Don't you plan and think too much, Pa ..., you'll forget to
bring back food."
"Don't you worry about that. You see, in the place where I fish
there are some large trees ...."
" S o ? " Inen Jempret snapped.
"I want to tie my fish-trap to the top of the tree."
"My God! You must be going mad," she said in annoyance.
"Oh ..., sorry, forgive me. Inen Jempret, I do mean to get some
catch."
"And pray, what fish is it, that swims in the air on top of those
trees? You're crazy!" She said angrier than ever.
"You can call me mad now, but I do hope to get some thing
back." He said softly, not wanting to annoy his wife any more.

51
They fell silent. Early next morning Aman Jempret cut out pieces
of bamboo and tore them into shreds of about the width of the
little fingers. These he strung on to ratten, to form a cone. Then he
left the house without bothering to say goodbye to his wife.
Inen Jempret who watched the whole thing was so irked by it
that she could say or do nothing, apart from helplessly shaking her
head as she watched her husband leave. She was afraid that her
poor husband was getting somewhat senile in his old age! Perhaps
this was bound to be, she thought, for so many problems bothered
him all the time.
What a scandal it would be, if the people of the village found
out what her husband was up to! How embarrassing it would be, if
the people around, discovered that Aman Jempret had taken to
fishing on top of trees. People would say: "No wonder! But oh ...,
it is so sad." Thus thought Inen Jempret as her husband vanished
from sight.
As usual when Inen Jempret got home with the rice, she didn't
find her husband in. And as usual she cooked up the rice, so that
she'd only have to prepare the vegetable when her husband arriv-
ed. As she cooked she continued to worry that her husband might
become the talk of the town. She hardly even expected him to
bring back any fish today. So on her way back home she had
brought back fern-leaves from the rice field. As she sat wondering
about her husband, she heard the sound of running feet ap-
proaching from a distance. Curious, she looked out of the door.
She was surprised to see her husband running towards the house,
quite out of breath. As soon as he saw her, Aman Jempret asked,
"Is he here yet?"
" W h o ? " asked his wife.
"Where's he? He promised to be here ahead of me!"
" W h o ? " asked his wife, piqued.
"Who's supposed to come?"
"Hornbill! The Hornbill," Aman Jempret panted.
"Hornbill?"
"Yes, has he arrived yet?" His eyes were alight as if hoping to
hear the good news from his wife. He kept looking up at the sky.

52
"Pa, I don't understand this at all. What Hornbill is it that
should come here and what would a bird be doing in our house?"
Inen Jempret watched her husband in great surprise. She felt angry
and sad in turn. Why had her husband changed so? In her heart
she was sure he had gone mad. But she wouldn't say this to her
husband or to anyone else!
Aman Jempret went on staring far into the sky in the direction
from which he had come. Then he broke out:
"Cheat! That Hornbill is a cheat!"
"Why did you have to go so crazy so suddenly!" His wife spoke
her distress and annoyance getting the better of her.
"Shut up, I am not mad. You accuse me without reason. It said
so to me when we were on top of the tree."
Hearing this his wife was more upset than ever. She felt she was
listening to a person who was totally out of his head. Aman Jem-
pret could see from her face how she felt; he could see, how she
was cursing him. So he decided to tell her the whole story.
"With the trap I made this morning, I caught a Hornbill. It was
trapped very soon in fact, after I tied the snare on the trees, I
spoke of last evening. I was hidden among the bushes beneath the
tree. Soon I heard the noise of fluttering wings. I climbed up, and
brought down the trapped bird holding firmly its sharp beaks. It
struggled to get loose and failing, it promised: "You don't have to
carry me. I'll come to your house myself and we shall meet there,"
and I believed him."
His wife was even more convinced of her husband's madness
when she heard the story while at te same time she wanted
tobelieve what her husband was saying.
"You really are stupid, Aman Jempret. It's hardly likely that it
would willingly sacrifice its life to you! Seems that even a bird can
make a fool of you."
"Say what you will. Perhaps I am indeed stupid, because I have
faith in people's honesty."
Aman Jempret made no reply to that. Looking like a beaten
man, he went into the house.
At dawn, he awoke, and with determined steps, he left the

53
house. This time the only provision he carried was a harsh and
vengeful heart. If he succeeded in catching that bird again, he
wouldn't release it, no matter how many excuses it found.
For hours he waited beneath the tree, where he had caught the
bird the day before. But he waited in vain. He kept thinking of his
stupidity, of his wife's accusation. His mind was weary with wor-
rying and waiting. By and by, he was overcome by sleep. As the
cool mountain breeze softly caressed him, he fell fast asleep.
He was awakened all of sudden by the fluttering on top of the
tree. Startled out of his sleep, he stood dazed, rubbing his eyes.
Once he knew what it was, he skillfully barked up the tree with his
heart filled with vengence. He grabbed tightly the legs of his prey
and screamed, "You liar!" He growled, he grinded his teeth in
anger.
"This time I won't let you go. You have caused me to be in-
sulted by my own wife."
"Forgive me, Sir," pleaded the Hornbill blinking his eyes.
"Yah, it's easy enough for you to plead. But no way am I going
to forgive a cheat. "Aman Jempret's voice was clear and deter-
mined.
The Hornbill was choked because of Aman Jempret's strangle-
hold on it's throat. But it forced itself to speak.
"If you can forgive me, then ..." the Hornbill's voice was
stifled completely as Aman Jempret's hand tightened on it's
throat.
"Then what?" asked Aman Jempret.
"Then I'll give you whatever you want."
"Cheat! Liar!"
"No, not this time. Just ask for what you want". Aman Jem-
pret pondered over the offer. He didn't know what to say. He was
confused. At times he felt what the Hornbill was saying was an im-
possible lie. He didn't want to be deceived a second time.
"I am not going to cheat you this time, Sir," said the Hornbill,
as if it could read Aman Jempret's mind. "Just ask, Sir. I'll fulfill
your demand if at all it is possible." The poor Hornbill felt reliev-

54
ed as the grasp on his throat was loosened a little bit. He saw that
Aman Jempret was taken by the idea.
"If you can't think of anything, I'll give you something of my
own accord. Now please return home." The Hornbill went on
talking, giving no opportunity to the man before him to speak. For
it was afraid, that Aman Jempret would get angry again, if he had
a chance to talk.
"And if you have the time, Sir, come to our house. Go west
from here. After crossing seven rivers you'll come to my place. But
it's important that you don't turn left or right."
Listening to the Hornbill. Aman Jempret half fell back into day-
dreaming. And so his grasp on the bird loosened, without his
knowing it. The Hornbill waited for an opportunity to escape.
At an opportune moment, the Hornbill broke away. And as the
king of the sky fluttered his quick wings and flew away, Aman
Jempret could only stare and hold his breath in amazement. He
looked at the bird for a long time. It grew smaller and smaller until
it was only a little dot. Then it vanished beyond the western
horizon.
Aman Jempret was terribly dissapointed. He felt beaten and
small. He felt really insulted. Even a bird had succeeded in fooling
him twice. He felt exhausted as he climbed down the tree. He
walked home-ward, his head hanging with the weight of defeat.
Without quite knowing, he had arrived in front of his house. He
didn't wish to meet his wife. Even less did he wish to tell her the
story of his failure. He had no wish to be called "stupid" again.

( His wife had seen him from a distance. She saw him coming with
his eyes to the ground and deep in thought. He didn't seem to see
anything. She wondered if he was really tired, or was just putting it

on. As he came closer, his wife called out:


"Hey, Aman Jempret!" Her husband looked up.
"Now don't you play the fool!" She scolded him, sounding ex-
asperated.
The tired man was more perplexed than ever. He couldn't make
out why his wife was talking so severely to him. He looked at his
wife hoping to get some explanation.

55
"Where did you get all this? Who did you steal all this wealth
from?"
Aman Jempret wanted to break down and cry. He couldn't
understand anything. His thoughts were chaotic as he listened to
his wife's abuse. He glanced again at his wife.
"Why are you being so awful to me today?" His voice was soft
and strained.
"Now don't pretend you don't know!"
All at once blood rushed to his head, he was angry as a tiger
about to pounce. He clenched his teeth and looked sharply at his
wife.
"What do you mean, what am I supposed to be pretending for?
I think it's you who are pretending innocence." He moved
towards his wife.
"You are lying. Don't you try to involve me in this. You must,
explain it to me, and now."
Inen Jempret's voice grew shrill. And then as though she had
been moved, all at once, she said, "I've grown used to poverty.
And I'd rather live in poverty than take what is some one else's. I
don't want to create a scandal."
"Whoever said you weren't poor!" Her husband could control
his anger no longer. His blood boiled.
"And whoever said you were rich. Given what our condition is
that would be hard, indeed! You are crazy! And you go insulting
your husband. Whoever will show me respect in this house-hold,in
this world if you don't. I don't even have a child, I haven't got
anything ...." he couldn't go on.
His wife now began to wonder. She read honesty in his words
and on his face. Yes, all through their lives he had been truthful.
Slowly, the harshness vanished from her face. Doubts assailed her,
and she regarded her husband affectionately. Her husband in turn
was surprised by the change in his wife.
"Pa, let's go inside," Inen Jempret held her husband's hand
and drew him into the house. Her husband followed like a bull
pulled by the rope looped through his nose. As they stood at the

56
doorway, Inen Jempret said "Look!" She pointed her fingers at
the rooms.
Aman Jempret was astounded by the change that had taken
place in the house. His mouth hung open. He was looking at a ful-
ly and luxuriously furnished house ... something which he hadn't
ever dreamt of in all his years. His wife watched attentively the ex-
pression of his face. Aman Jempret looked uncertainly at his wife.
"From where did all this come?" he asked her.
"Forgive me, Pa. There has been a misunderstanding between
us."
"Yes, but not the dishonesty that we suspected ... there's never
been that, and I wouldn't want it in to start now."
Aman Jempret was pensive, as if immersed in some deep pro-
blem. Then remembering something he raised his face. His eyes
were bright. His wife was curious to know what had come upon
him.
"What's it, P a ? " she whispered softly.
Aman Jempret told her about the conversation he had had in the
afternoon with the Hornbill. Hearing his story his wife was silent.
She swallowed hard. She seemed to regret that she had been so un-
just to him earlier.
"I hope you aren't angry with me any longer."
His wife shook her head, her face happy and loving, "I'm
hungry, Inen Jempret."
The two ate greedily on the lovely food that had been made
ready for them by some unseen hands. In all their lives they hadn't
had such food. That night they, slept soundly, having filled
themselves on white rice and tasty dishes, an experience that was
very different from their normal everyday life.
The next morning, Aman Jempret put on fresh new clothes. To-
day he wasn't carrying his fishing-trap to the river. He was going
westward, to the house of his friend, the Hornbill. His wife said
goodbye to him, as though she still didn't quite believe in their new
fortune.
Having walked for seven days, crossing seven rivers and many
a hill, Aman Jempret arrived at a beautiful ... but completely

57
deserted village. There wasn't a soul in sight. Only the breeze
blowing from one tree-top to another, heightened the feeling of
solitude. Aman Jempret had never seen such beauty as in this
village. He had also never experienced loneliness such as this,
which pervaded the village from one end to the other. Slowly
Aman Jempret started looking round the village. In his heart he
was suspicious of this village. Was this the village of ghosts, of
which he had heard long ago in some tale of horror? He grew
suspicious again of the Hornbill's invitation. Perhaps he had been
invited only to be trapped! He thought back on all that had hap-
pened at his house yesterday. He thought of the years he had spent
with his beloved wife. He thought of death which he was probably
facing.
Slow and heavy steps carried him to a stately gateway. As he was
about to enter the gate, suddenly his blood curdled, for his eyes
had caught sight of the creature that lay in one corner a tiger!
From a distance he hadn't been able to see this powerful guard.
The tiger saw Aman Jempret and grimaced. The latter felt sure
that it wasn't a smile that he had received! The door-keeper arose
aggressively.
"Is this the palace of the king who invited me?" Aman Jempret
asked nervously. A roar answered the question and shattered
Aman Jempret's spirit. The fierce looking tiger moved towards
him baring his sharp, pointed fangs. Aman Jempret trembled in
fear but he didn't move from his position.
The tiger ran and pounced upon Aman Jempret. A terrible
struggle followed. Aman Jempret was surprised that he held his
own in this battle. More astonishing still, the body of the tiger felt
like a sack filled with cotton! He could pick up and swing around
the tiger! It seemed, the tiger soon came to admire the strength of
his enemy, so that he stopped fighting and started walking away,
whining softly.
Having overcome this opposition, Aman Jempret proceeded
with more confident steps. Doubts and fears that had assailed him
earlier, had vanished.
Soon he was at the enchantingly beautiful gate. As he crossed

58
the steps into a front-yard, a buffalo came rushing madly at him.
But Aman Jempret easily repulsed this attack too. And like the
tiger, the buffalo too retreated of its own accord.
As he crossed doorway after doorway Aman Jempret faced ter-
rible attacks from all kinds of powerful beings. These fierce fights
should have turned his body soft and pulpy as porridge ... but as it
turned out Aman Jempret came through without a scratch.
"Such is the welcome that the door-keepers here are obliged to
give to visitor," thought Aman Jempret to himself. "Probably,
this would happen to any unknown person, like myself, who came
in here."
At long last he reached a strong and securely locked door. When
he was a few steps from the door, suddenly the door unlocked
itself. Before him now lay an incomparably beautiful hall. It was
extraordinarily luxurious.
In one corner of the room sat two people who smiled when
Aman Jempret entered. The latter stood at the door-way regarding
their smile doubtfully. Hesitantly, Aman Jempret approached the
two people. At the same time, they too arose and came towards
Aman Jempret smiling warmly. One of them shook hands with
Aman Jempret and introduced him to his companion:
"This is my wife, Sir." And Aman Jempret shook hands with
his new acquaintance.
"If it be possible, I would like to see the King. He invited me
here."
The man and woman before him smiled politely.
"Don't be too surprised, Sir, for indeed it is us that you are
looking for." Aman Jempret looked from one face to another in
amazement. The person who had spoken laughed again.
"Yes, sometimes we do come upon unexpected things, don't
we! But you needn't worry."
The guest still shook his head and seemed to ponder over
something ... then recognition downed on him and he cried:
"Yes, yes, I recognize your voice."
"Excellent."
"I have come in response to the invitation you kindly extended

59
to me, the other day. What's most important, I wish to express our
gratitudemine and my wife's ... for all your gifts."
"You don't owe us any gratitude, at all," said the other with a
very gentle smile.
Aman Jempret was made to stay there for seven days and
enjoyed the wonderful parties that were arranged in honour.
Aman Jempret was amazed to see what a very large number of
people lived in this kingdom which had seemed completely empty
when he first arrived. But he took all that was happening without
suspicion or worry.
On the last day of his stay the king offered a horse to Aman
Jempret to carry him back. The horse that Aman Jempret chose
was a lame one. The King asked him to choose another. But Aman
Jempret stuck to his first choice.
The people at the palace bid him a smiling good-bye, and Aman
Jempret set off with his lame horse. And in the twinkling of an eye
he was home! He stabled the horse while telling his wife all about
his experiences in the kingdom he had just visited.
Aman Jempret soon became famous because of his horse. Since
this horse had come to them Inen Jempret hadn't once been seen
going in search of broken rice, nor was her husband ever seen go-
ing to the river with his trap. Aman Jempret and his wife had
changed all together. The news spread around the village, that
when Aman Jempret's horse defecated, the excrement was gold!
Every one was amazed and envious. Finally the news reached the
King. And the King too was jealous.
One day the King called some of his soldiers and asked them to
fetch the strange horse.
One dark night, this group of soldiers stole into Aman
Jempret's house. The master of the house was deep in sleep. The
soldiers were still quite a distance away from the stable when the
horse started neighing loudly. The neighing awoke his master.
Aman Jempret looked out through a gap in the wall, for he had
heard foot-steps too. He looked on, his heart beating loudly, while
his wife looked for a chopping knife with which to arm
themselves. As the horse neighed for the third time, the fencing-

60
poles moved and uprooted themselves, just as the soldiers were
about to open the stable door. With no command from anyone the
poles attacked the soldiers.
Though surprised and confused, the soldiers fought back. But
soon they were dispersed and ran helter-skelter. Most of them
returned with lumps on their heads! Some had got off with small
bruises, others were badly wonded. It was those who had been
tempted by the King's promises of gifts and therefore fought hard,
who got the biggest lumps. While there were those, who had asked
themselves, why they should fight to take away the rightful posses-
sions of a man, for one who had no right to it, even though it be
the King himself, and these men got away with only tiny lumps.
Aman Jempret had watched the fight in great amazement "The
poor things," he whispered to his wife.
"Once in a while they ought to be taught a lesson," his wife
whispered back. "We have only just got this horse, and they can't
bear it. Yet... we, we had been poor for years, but we bore it with
ill-will to no one."
Silence fell between them, as each withdrew into his own
thoughts. Meanwhile the beaten soldiers met their master. Seeing
their condition, the King grew very angry with Aman Jempret, and
he wished more than ever to get possession of the horse.
This time, the King called the strongest men of his kingdom.
Among them were two of his famous commanders. The King said
to them:
"Do not return without the horse."
The army set forth with great expectations. Each hoped, he
would be able to present the horse before the king.
One night, soon after this, they approached the fence around
the stable, on tip-toes so as to make no sound. One of them got to
the door and pushed it. A plank of wood fell off the door. The
noise awoke the lame horse and at once he started neighing. At the
sound of the neighing the poles came alive again.
A few of the soldiers stepped aside when they heard 'the horse.
But most of them, including the two commanders, fought fiercely
with the fence-poles. They cut down the poles, one by one, with
61
their swords. By the time all the poles had been cut down, only one
commander and one soldier remained alive.
Aman Jempret who had seen the whole episode, peering
through the hole in the wall, said to his wife," Let them take the
horse. After all, they did fight hard for it."
Inen Jempret agreed silently.
One of the two men who had survived the battle now untied the
horse. Full of hope, he pulled the horse while the other walked
behind, as though escorting a prisoner. Aman Jempret watched it
all, enchanted. He didn't say a word even when the horse began to
walk slowly away with its new masters.
Aman Jempret shut his eyes, his heart was heavy. After a while
he could bear it no more. He ran out of the house and cried out the
name of his favorite pet:
"Cempang! Cempang!" The call pierced the quiet of the down.
As soon as it heard the call, the horse entwined the soldier with
the very rope by which he held the horse. With one last pull it
chocked the soldier until no breath was left in him. At the same
time, a swift movement of its hind limbs sent the man behind fly-
ing in some unknown direction.
The next day, the news went round that Aman Jempret had kill-
ed several of the King's men, that these murders had been carried
out with great cruelty and in the course of just one night, that the
corpses still lay all around his house!
The whole of the village came round in groups to see what the
matter was. Most of them watched from a distance since they were
horrified by the story. As people swarmed by, the King's delegate
arrived to investigate the matter. After a while he walked out along
with Aman Jempret. The crowds whispered and parted as Aman
Jempret passed. Most of the people were driven by curiousity to
follow them, at some distance. Many of them thought, that once
Aman Jempret arrived at the court, he would be handed over to
the King's executioner.
In the palace, the King waited with a severe face. As Aman Jem-
pret came before the King, he was swamped by thousand of eyes
that looked on in vengence and hatred. Few had any sympathy for

62
him. The King himself waited with fiery eyes. "You've killed my
men and left their bodies lying around through the night?" The ac-
cused hung his head.
"You murderer!"
"I am not a murderer," Aman Jempret protested.
"How dare you defend yourself, when corpses lie piled up in
your house?"
"I myself am terribly distressed to see them."
"Coward! When has a murderer felt distressed! Aren't you
clever trying to talk yourself out of trouble! Why did you go kill-
ing, if it makes you sad?"
"I was sorry even before they got killed."
"How's that?" The King asked somewhat disconcerted.
"I was sadder still when later I discovered that among the dead
were the kingdom's famed generals," said Aman Jempret, calmly.
The King turned red, his eyes glared at Aman Jempret.
"How dare you insult my generals," the King looked like he
could tear Aman Jempret to bits.
"I am really sorry, my Lord," he wanted to pacify the King.
"But after all, good commanders always sacrifice thejnselves for
the king; even though they really are supposed to be for protecting
the people."
"Silence! Don't you dare insult me in the presence of my sub-
jects."
The King arose from his seat, shaking his finger.
"What's your name? I shall wipe that name off the face of this
kingdom. You have stained the good name of my kingdom!" the
King shouted. "Are you listening?"
"I am listening."
"And your end shall be an occasion for entertainment for my
subjects. Your wife will go with you and your children and grand-
children, if you have any. Now listen!"
"I am listening."
"Tomorrow, bring your horse to my racing ground. t You shall
compete with the best of the royal horses. Do you follow?"
" I follow."

63
"If you win the race, my entire kingdom will be yours." The
people who heard this promise began to whisper nervously.
"Listen carefully." Aman Jempret watched and listened,
though he had no desire to do so.
"If you win, I shall hand my kingdom over to you," the king
repeated. "But ... if you loose ... what then?"
"As you wish, My Lord," said Aman Jempret, not knowing
what was coming. The King laughed loudly hearing the answer.
"Yes, if you loose, I shall hand you over to the people, who will
tear you to shreds". A roaring cheer went up from the crowds.
"Quiet! Quiet! Do you people approve of my decision?"
"Yes," they cried in a chorus. Aman Jempret hung his head.
"And your horse will become royal property. Are you prepared
for all this? Answer, you murderer, you coward!"
"As you wish, Sir," he said, raising his face a little.
"Not, as I wish!" The King snapped sharply. "Are you willing
or not?"
"I am willing, Sir!"
"And you '11 bring your wife?"
"As you wish, Sir."
"Are you willing?"
"Yes, Sir".
The King clapped his hands followed by a thunder of clapping
from the crowd.
Finally came the much awaited day. A royal horse, named
Mungkur Uten, ridden by a teen-aged rider was on the field. The
audience cheered from all directions as the King's horse and rider
came into the field. The were followed by Aman Jempret and his
lame horse Cempang, both looking ahead politely.
The King and his chief Queen sat side by side on a platform
with wide, but somewhat stiff and affected, smiles on their faces.
Inen Jempret sat all alone, in one corner of this platform. She
was pale. She passed anxious moments, awaiting the decision that
would determine her fate. Most of the audience looked at Aman
Jempret in amusement. But there were a few who pitied him. The
ground was a huge ovel surrounded by a fence.

64
The announcer stated clearly that the competitors would have to
go round the field twice.
The two horses stood ready, each on its own track. The audience
held its breath, most of all Inen Jempret, who squeezed her hands,
holding them between her knees. The King stood up, trying to con-
trol his exitement.
As the starter said "Go", Mungkur Uten was one the first to
take off and he galloped swiftly as a rabbit being chased by a dog.
The rider drove his horse so fast, that in only a few seconds it had
covered nearly half the ground.
Cheers went up, exploding the earth, shattering the skies for
Aman Jempret's horse hadn't taken a single step as yet! Some peo-
ple took pity and even tried to drive it from the fence. The horse
seemed frightened.
The King jumped up and down like a small child. The Queen
held on to the King, smiling brightly.
Inen Jempret squeezed her hands, holding them against her
breast as she sunk into terrible anxiety.
Mungkur Uten had crossed three quartes of the field. The rider
raised his hand to accost the cheering of the crowd and the King.
Only then did Aman Jempret hands tighten on his horse's brid-
dle. The horse now seemed ready to move. Aman Jempret
whispered "Come on Cempang," No sooner than it had heard
that command, Cempang shot forward. He seemed to be flying
after his opponent. By the time Mungkur Uten had finished the
first round, Cempang was beside him. On the second round,
Mungkur Uten's tired steps had hardly got him half-way, when
Cemang finished.
Cheers rose louder than before. Who knows what the people
were thinking! As they cheered happily they threw handfuls of
grass up towards the sky.
The King had collapsed in his seat. He was pale, his strength
drained away. The Queen looked dejected.
Inen Jempret still held her hand to her breast. God knows what
thoughts were passing through her mind!
As soon as Cempang had completed the second victorious
65
Aman Jempret whispered "Come on Cempang"

66
round, Aman Jempret walked it straight to his wife. He pulled his
wife on to the horse back. And from there, they saw Mungkur
Uten finish his round, exhausted as a boat on a long journey.
All eyes were turned on Cempang. Sitting upright on his horse,
Aman Jempret faced the King and the people.
"I was willing to ride my horse against another horse, on your
order, My Lord," he said to the King. Then turning to the people,
he added, "But I am not prepared to be your King, kind sirs,
despite the King's promise."
He got off the horse, along with his wife. Then they walked
slowly away.
The people stared after them, so did the King.

67
Malim Dewa

The Pesangan river winded through the forest like a giant snake.
The closer you got to its source the clearer blue its water and
thicker the forest around it.
Malim Dewa was walking up towards the top of the river. He
walked alone, accompanied only by a beautiful dream. In his hand
was a lock of hair as large as a duck's egg. He had been twisting
and curling it around his fingers as he walked and he had been
walking for days.
His heart had been captured by the vision of a woman's
beautiful face, the one whose lock of hair he held in his palm. The
beautiful dream made him walk on with spirit despite physical
tiredness.
The long way he had traversed had been full of problems. He
had to crawl through thorny woods, walk over fallen trees that
were slippery with moss grown all over them, cross a gaping gorge

On the other hand, the song of wild birds brought joy to his
soul, the soft breeze whistling though the trees made his journey
pleasant. Somewhere from the edge of his imagination, a beautiful
face smiled out at him.
He was exhausted, he sat down for a rest. His mind was too
tired to think of which way he should go. He'd take the road to the
right, he thought, they say the way to the right brings success. He
got up and started walking again. His mind travelled back to those
twinkling eyes. Oh ..., I'm getting closer to her, closer to the
maiden who has no match on this earth.
But his feet were tired. So he sat down again in the shade of a
tree. He watched the dancing ripples on the river. From the bag
that lay beside him, he took out a flute. He began to play a soft

68
romantic tune on it. Its sweet high notes rose over the trees and
pierced the sky. His spirits rose with the music. If only she could
hear this music of my soul. Oh ..., I hope she can hear it, I hope
she can! But perhaps it's still too vague and distant a music for her
ears. I must get closer to her, close enough that she may be drawn
to my music.
Malim Dewa rose. He hung his bag across his shoulder and
started walking. He seemed more lively and more sure of himself.
He walked through the day and slept under th trees at night.
One morning when it was still very early, he heard a cock crow. To
start with, he thought that this was only to announce the dawn. He
rose, rubbing his eyes. He listened attentively, with his head cock-
ed to one side. His heart jumped in joy. He was close to village, he
thought.
The cock crowing on and on from the midst of solitude seemed
to Malim Dewa to be singing a welcome song for him. It woke him
up completely. He was still swinging between excitement and
distress, while the dawn approached from behind the eastern-hills.
Malim Dewa walked slowly, watching the dawn as it spread out
on the leaves of trees. He felt the forest was getting thinner. The
early morning grey and pink began to brighten, spreading light all
over the earth. Birds were noisily setting out in sear' of food.
Malim Dewa enjoyed the life and beauty around him. He was
eager to find the village from which cocks had been calling out. He
looked around, but could see nothing. The south was walled by
hills. In the east distant grey hills lined the horizon.
It was cold day. The breeze bit into the bones. Malim Dewa
was walking slowly, stiff in the joints, when suddenly he heard the
sound of laughter. He listened intently. Some people were
laughingwomen! Although they were still quite far away, Malim
Dewa now moved with the careful passion of a cat chasing a
mouse.
His heart beat fast, his breath was slow like that of a very
frightened man. It was as if he was afraid that those women would
hear him breathing.
Hiding himself behind the bushes, Malim Dewa observed a

69
beautiful panorama. The river widened there and the water was
calm. In the middle of it stood a rock. It was like a huge dough-nut
sticking out of the water. Malim Dewa sat spellbound, looking at
seven naked figures of pure gold. They were bathing and playing
around like children. One of them squirted water on another's
face. Another pulled the legs of the girl who was lying on the rock,
thus dragging her into the water and she screamed as she slipped
in. One girl sat on the rock washing her hair. The tips of her long
tresses were swept by the river.
Watching the water playing among those long locks, Malim
Dewa remembered the lock of hair he was carrying. He took it out
and looked at it. There was the girl whose hair it was! She squeez-
ed the water from her hair. His young heart lurched in excitement.
He could hardly breathe.
Some of the golden-bodied maidens were getting ready to get
dressed. Their colourful clothes glittered in the morning sun. Some
of them were still drying themselves. They seemed to be showing
off their beauty to the river and the forest that surrounded them.
Looking at them, Malim Dewa felt a warm glow spread all over his
body. He hungrily took in one episode after another.
Malim Dewa was awakened with a start from this pleasant
colourful reverie. All at once the whole scene had vanished. He
looked all around him. But could see nobody. He got up, still open
mouthed in surprise. Perhaps he had been dreaming, he thought.
Then quite by chance, he saw them again, where he had least ex-
pected to see them ... as he looked up he saw the girls against the
peaks of the southern hills, like a beautiful design on the sky.
Their garments had turned into spread-out wings that shone in the
sun light. The whole pattern moved further and further away and
on to the horizon, where they were little specks like stars at noon.
"They're in the sky!" Malim Dewa whispered and he let his fan-
tasy fly out with them.
After a while he started walking again, his steps somewhat
uncertain due to the vision of the seven golden-bodied maidens
that still disturbed his mind. He reached a shady grove and stop-
ped. Here was a little hillock that rose up from the river bank.

70
Looking up the hillock, he found at its peack a tiny hut. Not long-
after, an old woman came out of it. She climbed down the
pathway that wound round the hillock, towards the river. There
was something in her'hand.
Malim Dewa was nervous. He was a foreigner in this region. If
this woman is the chaperon of those girls, she's sure to be
suspicious of me, he thought. Perhaps she'd do more than just
suspect!
.Hurriedly, he looked for a way out. He plucked alemantu fruit
that was growing nearby. He attached the fruit to a piece of string
and made it look like a fishing rod. Then he dropped the line into
the water. To make it all the more convincing he took out his flute
and started blowing into it. He played it very softly at first. But as
the woman came closer he played it louder and louder. He acted as
if he was totally absorbed in the music that he was playing and had
not noticed the old woman's presence at all.
The old woman watched the unknown man. She was carried
away by the rhythm of Malim Dewa's music, that seemed to flow
out in harmony with the river before them. Deeply moved by the
music, she started walking towards Malim Dewa. Malim Dewa
turned round pretending to be startled by the rustle of the grass
under the feet. He stopped playing, as if embarrassed by her
presence.
"Go on, young man, go on!" said the old woman softly.
"Hmm ...," he coughed modestly
"I love the way you play your flute"
Malim Dewa had expected rebuke rather than praise. What a
nice old lady, he thought!
"What do you do, young man?"
"Fish, Grandma," he said, closely observing the woman.
"But I saw you playing the flute?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"Where do you live?"
"Don't have a place to live." His voice was sad.
"Really?" she said in disbelief.
"I really don't have a home, Grandma."
So?" she asked, wanting to know more about him.
Malim Dewa thought, here was a chance to warm himself into
this woman's affection, even though that was not what he had
initially set out to do.
"I lost everything a long time ago."
The old woman got interested in hearing out the problems of
this young man who seemed to be sincere. She knelt down beside
him. Malim Dewa tried to look as earnest as he could.
"Are you lost, young man?"
"Remembering my loss," he answered.
The woman couldn't understand what he meant, but she felt a
surge of sympathy for Malim Dewa.
"Memories? Memories of what, young man?"
"Memories of the one I loved, I mean, mother, my mother."
Hes voice seemed choked. "Oh ..., you'll get bored listening to my
story ...."
"No, go on, please do. I am glad you want to talk to me, talk
about things that are disturbing you."
Both remained silent for a while. Malim Dewa was trying to
organize his thoughts.
"My mother used to go to the river. That river down there. To
the river-mouth in Kuala Jemer village. One day she just didn't
come back home. We children waited till late in the night. The next
day I searched all around, but I couldn't find her." He stopped
speaking, as though he was choked with emotion.
"If you find me sitting here, fishing and playing on my flute to
the rythm of the ripples, it is because I still feel the pain of that
separation. And this flute is my only friend when I go chasing after
my memories. I wandered out here in search of the past. I am very
tired ...."
"Forgive me, child! I seem to have brought back painful
memories to you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I am sorry."
"No, no Grandma! I want to keep alight the flames of those
memories in my heart."
"Good, my child. That's good." The old woman nodded her

^2
head. She introduced herself as Inen Keben and invited Malim
Dewa to her little hut on top of the hill.
Although somewhat hesitant at the begining, Malim Dewa final-
ly accompanied her up the hill to the hut.
In time, the two grew very fond of each other. Their affection
was like that between grandmother and grandson. When Inen
Keben went out fishing or selling flowers from place to place,
Malim Dewa would stay behind and look after the house. Inen
Keben had been selling flowers for years. Everybody knew her and
she knew everything.
One day Malim Dewa told her of his heart's desire. Inen Keben
felt quite happy to think her adopted grandson may succeed in
winning the hand of one of those beautiful maidens. She told him
that they came down to bathe in Atu Pepangiren every Monday
and Thursday. She also cautioned Malim Dewa: "If you fail to get
her clothes, and if they find out your intentions, they may never
come down to the earth again. And you'll regret it forever."
"I '11 be very careful," Malim Dewa promised.
On a Monday morning, even before the sun had risen, Malim
Dewa sat ready in his hiding place. It was the place where he had
seen the woman leave their clothes.
His heart jumped as he saw them arrive. Malim Dewa crawled
behind some thick bushes right on the edge of the river.
The girls left their clothes and full of light spirits they plunged
into the river one after the other.
Malim Dewa clutched at his breast, perhaps to hold his trem-
i bling heart in place! His hands shook, and his lips were dry as he
dragged himself slowly towards the pile of clothes.
He kept a keen watch on the movements of the bathing girls. As
he reached out for a bundle, his hand shook feverishly. The cor-
ner of a dress was in his hand and he pulled it quickly. He started
as the garment rustled against something; it had got caught on a
dry twig which cracked when he pulled the dress. One of the girls,
who sat on the rock rubbing herself, turned round to see what the

73
Malim Oewa sat ready in his hiding place.

74
noise was. Malim Dewa crouched close to the ground and waited
till the girl turned away, reassured.
Having assured herself that nothing was the matter, the girl slip-
ped into the water and joined the laughter and fun of her compa-
nions. Malim Dewa heaved a sigh of relief. Very carefully, he tried
again to pull out the garment. It came away this time. One last
frigtened thud of the heart, and he had got what he had been
waiting for since day-break.
He found a safe place to sit down and looked at the,garment he
had stolen. He had never seen such a beautiful dress before. Its
delicious perfume went through his nose right down to his soul.
This perfume is heavenly, he thought.
Then he heard someone crying, nearby. He looked quickly in
the direction of the sound. One of the girls was being hugged and
embraced by others. Some of them were looking around the
bushes. Their faces and their movements were melancholy. They
were sad at the terrible stroke of misfortune that had befallen one
of them. Some kissed her. Other carressed her hair. But soon it
was time for them to go, for day-light was receding as dusk
creeped on. The six girls, who were leaving felt helpless and de-
jected at being compelled to leave behind their sister. Night would
come down on the forest, she was going to be all alone. And they
had no way of knowing what the future held for her.
The girl who was left behind was even more distressed and
frightened. She put her head between her knees and wept. Her
loud wailing pervaded the silence around her.
Malim Dewa was torn by remorse, as he saw how this girl suf-
fered due to him. He realized how brutal an act it had been against
this tender young maiden.
A little later Inen Keben appeared carrying her fishing rod. Ap-
parently she had been looking for fish when she heard a woman
crying. The girl ran to Inen Keben as soon as she saw her. Her
whole face spoke of her pitiable condition. She was hugging
herself closely. The old woman carressed the young girl's hair,
showing the warmth and care in her heart for this young thing.

75
Malim Dewa heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Inen Keben.
His sense of guilt was partly assuaged. At least, the unfortunate
girl had been saved from having to spend the night alone in the
dark forest.
The girl arose under the tender persuasion of Inen Keben. The
old woman held the young girl's hand and they walked slowly
toward the little hut. Malim Dewa looked on from behind.
From this time on Malim Dewa never came to Inen Keben's little
hill-top house.
Each evening Inen Keben arranged the flowers which she had
gathered through the day. Often her new-found grand-daughter,
Putri Bensu helped her with it. She had been the youngest of the
girls who used to bathe in Atu Pepangiren. One evening when they
sat arranging flowers, Putri Bensu asked her grandmother shyly:
"Granny, who is the man, who is always fishing in the river, just
below our house?"
"Why do you ask, child?"
"He is naughty."
Inen Keben felt happy when she heard this. She had caught a
very special light on her grandchild's face.
"I don't know who he is. But as far as I know, there aren't any
naughty people around here. You needn't worry."
The next day Malim Dewa climbed up the hillock towards the
hut, for the first time since Putri Bensu had started living there. He
shivered a little, for it was cold. As he climbed up the little winding
pathway, the strong wind from the west swept through his hair,
and pierced into his body.
The closer he got to the top, the harder the breeze blew. His
heart began to tremble as he reached the hut. In a shaky voice he
called out: "Grandma, Grandma."
"Who's there?" Inen Keben answered.
"It's me, Grandma."
"What do you want?" asked a soft gentle voice.
"Want a fire, Granny."
"Oh ..., just come in and get some. We are busy."

76
His feet seemed unwilling to step into the hut, it was as if they
were tied down to bags of sand. He dragged his feet in, since hav-
ing come and having anounced his arrival, he just had to enter.
As he stood at the doorway, he was charmed by the lovely
maiden, who sat there looking as beautiful as the moon in the clear
sky. His eyes met Putri Bensu's for a precious moment and then
dropped to the floor. His heart beat madly. Putri Bensu sat
engrossed in her flower arrangement. She felt she already knew
this men, in whose eyes she saw reflected the beautiful feelings that
were in his heart.
"There's the fire, child."
"Thanks, Grandma!"
In the encounters that followed the momentary meeting of the
eyes, the two young people won over each other's heart under the
silent encouragement of the old woman. Finally came the day of
wedding. Inen Keben felt .happy since her plans had succeeded.
Soon the couple were blessed with a son. They called him Amat
Banta. The child grew up in the shelter of his parents love. And he
had a grandmother who loved him dearly, and loved his parents
too. Amat Banta was a lively and attractive child, and the centre of
attention of three people.
One day when Amat Banta was about three years old he was at
home alone with his mother. His father had gone fishing, and
grandmother had gone to gather flowers. His mother had just
gone out to empty a bucket. Amat Banta looked around the kit-
chen. He flung the ash off the mat. He felt really pleased with
himself, since there was no one around to stop him being naughty.
He could see his mother busy watering the flowers.
When his mother came in she was very angry for he had strewn
ash all around. Then suddenly Putri Bensu's eyes caught
something, her heart came to a standstill. From under the ash, the
edge of a robe stuck out: it was the dress she had lost years back!
She drew the dress out carefuly so as not to tear it. She shook the
ash off the dress. It had faded through years of neglect and dirt.
Still when she put it on, Amat Banta stared at her in great surprise
for he had never seen his mother in a robe so beautiful.

77
Putri Bensu seemed upset. She paced through the house for a
while. And then quiet as a thief, she emerged from the hut,
holding Amat Banta. Once outside, she looked round cautiously.
The breeze blew gently. The leaves nodded softly to the breeze.
Her eyes softened a little as she looked around the hut. Her heart
was heavy, she looked sad. Her eyes glistened with tears as she
looked at the door of the hut for the last time. She held Amat Ban-
ta tightly and kissed him full of love. Amat Banta was spell bound
with surprise as his mother's dress seemed to turn into an umbrella
and they moved upward gently into the sky. She held her child as
tight as she could and she flew further and further away from the
hut. She was leaving the earth which had been her home for many
years now.
Putri Bensu looked down at the hut from the sky. Malim Dewa
an Inen Keben had not returned yet. The house looked lonely and
deserted.

78
BALI

Calon Arang

by Purbatjaraka

Translated by David T. Hill

79
Calon Arang

"May nothing stand in your way!"


Thus say the old people who tell the story of Mpu Bharadah,
who used to live in an ascetic's hermitage at Lemah-tulis. His
mystical power and especially his knowledge of the dhartna had no
equal. He had attained the peak of knowledge and knew all about
the destiny of the world. His powers of asceticism were amazing!
He had one very beautiful daughter, called Wedawati, who lov-
ed to dress up. Then Mpu Bharadah's wife, Wedawati's mother,
fell ill and died. Wedawati was broken hearted. She threw herself
upon the ground and wailed beside the body of her mother,
mourning and lamenting: "Oh, mother, who will take pity on my
miserable soul?"
Her mother's corpse was taken to the cemetery to be cremated,
after which, having been rendered perfect, her mother ascended
into heaven. We will say no more about her.
Mpu Bharadah then re-married and had a son. In short, the
child grew up quickly until the time soon came when he could dress
himself.
One day Mpu Bharadah went to his hermitage at Wiyamukka
where he meditated. He made sacrifices there and many students
came to see him. Let us leave him for the moment, and continue
the story of Wedawati. She was scolded by her step-mother and
became very cranky. She wept and would not dress herself proper-
ly. Instead she went to the cemetery where her mother had been
cremated. Under a large banyan tree she came across the corpses
of four people who had been killed because they were accused of
weaving black magic. There was a baby suckling at the breast of its
dead mother, who had itching ants swarming over her. Wedawati
was very moved at the sight. Slowly she left there and headed for

81
her mother's cremation site. She sat down under a kepuh tree,
lamenting to her mother: "Mother, take me immediately!" Thus
Wedawati mourned. We will speak no more of her for the present.
Let us return to Mpu Bharadah. He came home from the place
where he had conducted the sacrifices and sat down in the pen-
dopo'. His wife came and told him that his child, Wedawati, had
been misbehaving. She had been looking for flowers with her
younger brother, but had fought with him over them. They had
both ended up crying and she had run away. Her brothers and
sisters had gone in search of her, but she was nowhere to be found.
The sage said: "I will go and look for her now." And he went
and searched for his child. In an open field he came across a young
shepherd. Asking gently, he said, "Greetings, shepherd boy. Do
you know my child, Wedawati? Have you met her? Do you know
where she has gone?"
The shepherd boy replied, "I have seen a beautiful veilled
maiden, weeping and calling for her mother, walking towards the
southwest."
The sage followed his child hastily, coming straightaway to his
wife's cremation site. There he found signs that his child had been
rolling on the ground, and weeping beside the place where his wife
was cremated. He looked to the north, south, east and west, and
noticed his child sitting on a rock, hidden behind the roots of the
kepuh tree. Said the sage, "Oh my child, how mischievous you
have been, coming to your mother's graveside. That is enough,
child. Do not carry on like this. Life is like that. We all have to die
eventually. Come, my child, let us go home. Do not give in, my
dear."
His child replied, "I want to go with Mother. I am so terribly
sad. I cannot be separated from her. I want to go to Mother."
Said the sage, "My child, my dear! You must do as I-say!" And
so the child went home, obeying her father's instruction. By the
time they arrived at Lemah-tulis it was night-time. Through the

pendopo: a wall-less shelter where guests may congregate.

82
night Wedawati was given guidance by her father about the way of
piety. Wedawati followed her father's every word.
Some time later the sage went again to Wipyamukha to make
more sacrifices. Arriving there he was greeted by all his pupils, and
given tribute. The holy sage then taught the true road to his pupils.
We will tell no more of the sage for the moment.
Let us return to Wedawati. She was scolded by her stepmother
once more. The daughter cried, not knowing what she should do,
but getting very angry. Again, she went to her mother's cremation
site. Without going into details about her journey, she arrived
quickly at the place where her mother had been cremated, and
wept, rolling on the ground and lamenting. "Oh my mother", she
cried, "see what misery I am suffering. I ask to be taken im-
mediately. Do not leave me here. Let me follow you, Mother." Let
us say no more about her, and return to the sage. He came from
making his sacrifices and sat in the pendopo, calling to his
daughter, "Where are you, my child? Come here my dear Weda-
wati, and bring your brother." But no-one answered. Then the
stepmother approached him and said, "My Lord, your daughter
has been naughty again, arguing with her younger brother. I could
not separate them. Then suddenly she left. Her brothers and sisters
have searched for her, but she is nowhere to be found."
The sage replied, "Ah, she must have gone to her mother's
cremation site!" He got down from his seat and went off to find
his daughter in the cemetery. The sage walked quickly and found
his child by the grave. Then said the sage, "Oh, Wedawati, my
child, my dear. Let us go home. Let me take you home, my child."
But Wedawati did not reply. The sage was confused to see his
daughter behave so. He sat beneath the kepuh tree instructing his
daughter in correct behaviour. For a long time he talked with her,
and finally Wedawati said, "Father, I do not want to return to the
Lemah-tulis hermitage. Let me die in this graveyard and follow my
mother. Let me stay here until I die under this kepuh tree.
However I am to meet my death, let me pass away on this very
spot."
Mpu Bharadah instructed his pupils to move his residence to the

83
place where he was sheltering beside the grave. The sage intended
to make the cremation site into his hermitage. So his pupils levell-
ed the land, blessed it and built apendopo for guests and a place to
live, but most importantly a temple for offerings and a gateway. A
fence was made with sirih* trees planted in rows. They planted all
kinds of plants and flowers. When the hermitage was finished it
was absolutely beautiful! Wedawati was happy that the retreat had
been built at her mother's cremation site. The sage made his per-
manent home there at the hermitage. Let us now leave the story of
the sage.

* Sirih has an important ritual significance. Made up as a quid of areca nut, betel leaf,
gambier and lime, it is chewed socially in Indonesia much as cigarette smoking is com-
mon nowadays.

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2

Let us tell the story of the King of Daha. His Majesty was a great
king who was happy in his rule because the people were prosperous
under his governance. His Majesty's name was Erlangga, a good
and kind monarch.
The story is told of a widow called Calon Arang, who lived in
the village of Girah. She had a very beautiful daughter called Rat-
na Manggali. But despite her beauty no-one came with offers of
marriage. No-one from Girah village even came to seek her hand
in marriage, not to mention from the town of Daha, and certainly
no-one from any further afield, on the periphery of the kingdom.
They were afraid to make overtures for the hand of Ratna Mang-
gali, the daughter of the widow of Girah, because it was known
far and wide that the widow of Girah had an evil nature. There
was no-one for miles and miles who would propose to Manggali.
One day the widow of Girah said to herself, "Why on earth does
no-one seek to marry my daughter? Despite her beauty, not
a soul comes to propose. It makes me so angry! Well, I shall study
my texts. If I read my book, I shall come before the Goddess
Bhagawati. I will ask that she grant me a boon, and destroy the in-
habitants of the entire kingdom.
After reading her book she went to the cemetery accompanied
by all her pupils, to beg a favour from the Goddess Bhagawati.
And the names of her pupils were: Wkcirsa, Mahisawadana,
Lnd, Guyang, Larung, and Gandi. It was they who escorted the
widow of Girah; it was they who danced and twirled in the
graveyard. The Goddess Durga, who is also called Bhagawati,
showed up with all her retinue to join in the dancing and whirling.
Calon Arang paid homage to the goddes Bhagawati to which
the Goddess replied, "Calon Arang, my child, why have you come

85
to me and made obeisance, escorted by all your pupils?"
The widow came, with her hands together at her forehead, "My
Lady, your servant requests that all the people throughout the en-
tire kingdome be destroyed. This is your servant's reason for com-
ing."
The Goddess replied, "I agree, my child, but never let your
anger rule your judgement."
The widow thanked her, and took leave of the Goddess Bhaga-
wati with a sign of homage. Calon Arang, along with all her pupils
danced through the middle of the night at the crossroads. They
played their instruments and danced. Then, having finished their
dance, they went home, altogether, to Girah.
Not long after, people in the villages began to fall ill, and many
died. One after the other, without ceasing, the death rate rose. Let
us say no more of Calon Arang for the moment.

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3

Let us listen to the story of His Majesty, the King of Daha. His
Majesty, King Erlangga, was seated in his audience room. His
patih* came to him, respectfully, saying that many of the people
and the soldiers were dying of a raging fever. Within a day or two
the sickness caused death. Someone had seen the widow of Girah,
Calon Arang, making supplications to the Goddess Bhagawati.
She was seen dancing and twirling together with all her pupils at
the crossroads. Many people had seen them. Thus said the patih,
and all the people who had gathered around acknowledged the
truth of his words.
The king spoke, saying, "Oh, my people and my soldiers, kill
this Calon Arang, stealthily, but it cannot be done by just one per-
son. Take the army."
The soldiers took leave of His Royal Highness making
obeisance, saying "We beg your permission to kill this widow of
Girah." The soldiers and the people departed. We will not
describe their journey, but they arrived quickly at Girah, going
straightaway to Calon Arang's house, while the people there were
asleep. There was no sound of anyone standing watch there. Swift-
ly one of the soldiers grabbed the widow by the hair, drew his
sword and was about to cut off her head, when his hand was
struck paralysed. Calon Arang awoke with a start, fire blazing
from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears, the flaming tongues searing
the soldiers. Two of them were incinerated. The other soldiers,
some distance back, fled in terror. While nothing is described of
their journey, those who had escaped death returned speedily to
the palace and to the rest of the army. There they approached the

* patih: the vizier or senior official in the court.

87
king humbly. "My Lord, we have failed. Two of your servants
have been killed by the gaze of the widow of Girah. Tongues of
fire lept from her body incinerating your servants."
His Majesty replied, "If what you say is true, I have no idea
what I should do next. The king then left the audience hall, and
returned to the palace. Let us leave His Majesty and return to the
tale of the widow of Girah. Having been attacked by the royal ar-
my, she grew more and more infuriated. Calon Arang called her
pupils and told them to come with her to the cemetery, after she
had consulted her book once more. Having read from her book
and escorted by all her pupils, she went to the graveside under a
kepuh tree which was entwined by melata plants with their densely
packed leaves casting out runners to the flat ground beneath.
There sat the widow of Girah, facing all her pupils. Lnd said,
"My Lady, why is it that you are so angry with the king? Would it
not be better to do good, and ask a great sage to show you the road
to paradise?"
Then Larung said, "What do we care about His Majesty's
anger! On the contrary, we should intensify our efforts, even if it
means striking right at the centre."
They all supported what Larung had said. Even Calon Arang
agreed. Then she said, "Yes, I agree whole-heartedly, Larung!
Play you instruments! Dance one by one. Later when the time
comes, you shall all dance together."
Immediately Guyang began to dance. She danced with her
hands open, clapping, sitting on the ground and spinning around
holding on to her wrap around skirt. She flashed her eyes, turning
right and left.
Larung pranced about; her movements like a tiger about to
spring, eyes bloodshot, and her body naked. He hair was. strag-
gling over her face. Gandi danced, leaping, with her dishevelled
hair falling to one side. Her eyes as red as the ganitri flower. Lende
danced. She danced on tiptoe holding her skirt. Her eyes flashed
like fire about to burst into flame. Her hair was unkempt.
Then Wokirsa pranced, bending over, twisting and turning
from left to right; her eyes agog, without a blink. Her hair, a

88
tangled mess, hung down one side as she danced stark naked. Ma-
hisawadana danced, standing on just one leg. Then she tumbled
over, her tongue stuck out and her hands clawing and scratching at
the air.
How happy Calon Arang was, watching them cavort. She
allocated tasks to her pupils so that she would be able to make her
black magic strike right to the capital. She divided up the territory
into the compass points, giving Lende charge over the south,
Larung over the north, Guyang the east and Gandi the west. Calon
Arang took charge of the centre of the kingdom with Wokirsa
and Mahisawadana.
Having divided up the realm into the four compass points,
Calon Arang went to the middle of the graveyard, to get the corpse
of someone who had died suddenly on a special Kliwon Saturday.
She held the corpse up, tying it to a kepuh tree and gave life to it by
breathing into the body. Wkcirsa and Mahisawadana stared
wide-eyed. The dead man came to life again and said, "Who are
you, my Lady, who can give life to me? So boundless is your hum-
ble servant's debt to you that I may never be able to repay you. I
will devote my life to you, my Lady. Release your servant from
this kepuh tree so that I may bow my head to the ground before
you in humble obeisance."
Wkcirsa said, "Do you think you will live that long? Why, I
am going to slit your throat right now!" At that very moment, she
cut his throat; the neck of the corpse which they had just brought
back to life, was severed. Blood sprayed out and Calon Arang us-
ed it to shampoo her hair which became clotted with the blood.
The intestines she used for ornaments and bracelets. The body was
cooked and presented as an offering to all the ghosts and evil
spirits in the graveyard, and especially to the Goddess Bhagawati,
who was given a tribute of offerings.
The Goddess Bhagawati descended from her heaven and said to
Calon Arang, "Greetings, my child, Calon Arang. Why do you
make these offerings to me, with homage and bowing? I thank you
for your tributes!"
The widow of Girah answered, "Oh, my Lady, My Goddess,

89
His Majesty the king is angry with your humble servant, and so I
come to ask your help in wiping out all the kingdom, even unto the
very centre!"
The Goddess spoke, "This I permit, Calon Arang, but be
careful!"
The widow of Girah made obeisance to the Goddess and took
her leave. She went quickly from there, cavorting through the
crossroads. All the people of the kingdom of Daha fell critically ill,
sick with fever for a day or two, then dying. Corpses piled up in
the graveyards, in the fields and in the streets; others rotted in the
houses. Barking stray dogs ate the corpses. Flocks of ravens
devoured the corpses, pecking at them. Flies droned in the houses;
the villages became deserted. Those who survived fled to places far
away, seeking refuge in those villages which had not yet been
struck down by the disease. Those who were sick were carried on
the backs of the healthy. There were those who carried some of
their children, guiding others while toting their bundles of belong-
ings.
The devilish spirits who saw them called out, "Do not flee. Your
villages have returned to normal. There is no more threat from the
disease. Go back. Do not stay here." After this even more people
who were fleeing with their belongings died along the roadside.
The evil spirits and devils who were in the deserted villages lept
with delight, joking with each other along the lanes and highways.
Mahisawadana entered houses through the walls and everyone
in the houses fell ill. Wokjirsa got into the people's beds through
the roof, opening it to the sky, and demanding sacrifices of fresh
blood and raw meat. "That is what I want, and do not take too
long about it!", she said. Let us speak no more of the people who
were struck dead, or fell sick, or of the antics of these demons.

90
4

Let us continue with the story of the king in the capital. He sat
in the audience hall, sad and at his wit's end, because people all
over his kingdom were dying in droves with even more falling sick.
His Majesty issued a royal decree that all the brahman priests,
ascetics, priests of Shaivism and Buddhism and all the religious
teachers throughout the kingdom be invited to come with their
skills of prophesy to make sacrifices because so many subjects
throughout the kingdom were dying of this pestilence. The
religious teachers and priests all made sacrifices calling on the god
Agni in the middle of the night. The god Caturbhuya (known also
as Shiva) revealed himself above the fire and said, "There is a
great sage, perfect in all things, called Bharadah, who lives in the
graveyard at Lemah-tulis. It is he who can save your kingdom and
rid the earth of this catastrophe. Bharadah has the power to make
your world prosperous once more." Having spoken, he vanished
like smoke. The priests who had performed the sacrifices felt a
great relief on hearing the words of the God Shiva.
The following morning they left their place of sacrifice and came
with obeisance to tell the king of the words of the God Catur-
bhuya. While his Royal Highness was sitting in the audience
chamber the high priests spoke, saying, "Your Majesty, the God
Caturbhuya has revealed himself above the sacrifical fire, and
has said that there is a sage, Bharadah, who has the power to save
your kingdom. He lives in the graveyard at Lemah-tulis, and it is
he who will be able to rid us of their global disaster. So said the
God Caturbhuya."
Accordingly, His Royal Highness paid homage to all the priests.
He believed them, and so sent envoys to call upon the sage who

91
All the people of the Kingdom of Daha fall critically ill.

92
resided in the graveyard. "Kanuruhan , go to the graveyard of
Lemah-tulis and invite this great sage Bharadah to come, for I will
beg him to save the country from this pestilence. And do not
dawdle!"
The Kanuruhan bowed to the ground then took leave of His Ma-
jesty. With the kanuruhan riding in his carriage and his retinue
mounted on horseback, the journey was swift. Despite the onset of
night, he continued to travel by the light of the moon. Only well
into the night did he sleep by the road. The following dawn the
kanuruhan continued his journey, and soon came to the sage's
hermitage. The kanuruhan alighted from his carriage, entered the
gate of the compound and met the asce'ic who happened to be at
the hermitage at that time. The sage greeted the guest warmly with
the words, "Welcome, my son, though I know you not. What is
your reason for coming here to this holy retreat?"
The kanuruhan answered him, saying, "Your servant comes
from the town of Kediri; I have the position of kanuruhan. I come
to you at the command of His Royal Highness, to invite you to
return with me, my Lord. It is the intention of His Majesty, if my
Lord comes to the city, to beg a boon from my Lord, to save the
kingdom now struck by a pestilence which brings death to many of
the people. There is a widow of Girah, called Calon Arang, who
has a daughter called Manggali, but no-one will have anything to
do with them. For this reason Calon Arang became furious, for
no-one would ask for the hand of her daughter in marriage."
The sage answered, "I have no objections. Permit one of my
pupils called Mpu Bahula to accompany you now, kanuruhan. He
will be the one to propose to Manggali. Please pass on to His Ma-
jesty that Mpu Bahula will make his proposal, but, regardless of
what is requested as a bridal gift, His Majesty must be prepared to
fulfill the plea. This is my advice. Later, I will follow Bahula, after
he has actually married Manggali."
The kanuruhan agreed and the sage ordered that food be
prepared for the pleasure and entertainment of the guests. Not

* kanuruhan: a high court official.

93
long afterwards dishes of food with rice, side-dishes, and a range
of drinks were served. The kanuruhan and his retinue all drank
with gusto. They spent one night at the hermitage. The following
day the kanuruhan begged leave of the sage and returned taking
Mpu Bahula with him.
Nothing is told of the journey of the kanuruhan and Bahula.
They arrived quickly at the city and heard that the king was in his
audience hall. The kanuruhan and Bahula then went to the au-
dience chamber. The kanuruhan bowed at the king's feet and
made obeisance, "My Lord, I was unable to bring the sage to see
your Majesty. This is his pupil, called Bahula, whom I bring to
you. He has been instructed to seek Manggali's hand in marriage.
However, if a bridal gift is demanded, whatever amount or
whatever goods are requested, the ascetic asks that my Lord fulfill
the plea. The sage has given me his word that after Bahula has
married Manggali, he will come to visit Bahula."
The King replied, "I will do what you have said, kanuruhan. Go
with Bahula to Girah to propose to Manggali. I will certainly pro-
vide the bridal gifts."
Thus spoke His Royal Highness, Bahula took his leave to depart
for Girah, escorted by his retinue and the kanuruhan. Nothing is
mentioned about their journey, but they arrived with haste at
Girah and entered the yard of Calon Arang's house. Bahula sat on
a bench in the pendopo. As it happened, Calon Arang came out
and greeted her guest with the words, "Welcome my child. Where
have you come from, and where are you headed? I have never met
you, have I ? " Bahula got up from the bench, took off his travel
garments, and then said politely, "My Lady, you were not wrong
in greeting me as you did. I thank you for your welcome. My
reason for coming here is to ask a favour of you."
The widow of Girah replied, "Let us sit down first, my child."
Mpu Bahula sat down with the widow of Girah. Bahula spoke,
"I beg my Lady's willingness to grant your servant a favour. What
I mean is this: I would like to ask for the hand of your daughter,
Manggali, in marriage. Perhaps my Lady does not yet know from
whence I came? I am called Bahula, and I come from Lemah-tulis.

94
I am a pupil of the sage of Lemah-tulis. He has instructed me to
propose to Manggali. This is all true, my Lady. You shall then be
related by this marriage bond to the sage."
Calon Arang was greatly pleased. She wanted very much to
become Bahula's mother-in-law and even moreso to share this
family bond with the sage. Happily the widow of Girah said, "Of
course, there is absolutely no reason why we would disapprove of
you marrying Manggali. Especially when you have been instructed
to do so by the sage. Only, never be unfaithful to Manggali."
Bahula answered, "What possible reason would I, Bahula, have
for being unfaithful to Manggali? We will be true to each other.
Moreover, whatever my Lady asks for as a bridal gift, we will
agree to it."
Calon Arang replied, "What on earth do I care about a bridal
gift! All I ask is that you are faithful. Whatever gift you are able to
offer, I will accept."
So Bahula offered sirih, the symbol of the marriage proposal,
and adornments, as gifts, and these were accepted by Calon
Arang.

95
5

It would take too long to go into all the details, but Bahula did
marry Manggali. Their relationship was a good one and was full of
love and affection, both day and night.
Let us continue the story of the widow of Girah. Towards
evening she would read from her book. After reading, the Widow
of Girah would say to Bahula. "Come here my son, and sit down
for a while." So Bahula would sit down with the widow of Girah
who then would say, "Stay here, child. I have to go to the
cemetery." She would then go straight to the graveyard and return
home only about midnight. This she did every day.
Bahula said to his wife, Manggali, "Why is it my love, that your
mother goes away every evening. I am worried about her. Maybe it
would be a good idea for me to follow her. It is a matter of life and
death that I go with her. Tell me honestly, my sweet. What does
your mother do at that time of night? I am extremely concerned
about her."
Manggali told her husband, "I will tell you frankly, my dear,
but do not pass it on to a soul! You must not follow her. Mother is
weaving her magic spell to destroy the entire kingdom. That is why
so many people are dying, corpses are piling up in the fields and so
many house and residences are empty. This is exactly what Mother
wants to happen."
Bahula replied to his wife, "My dear, I adore you! I want to see
the book which your mother reads. May I read it?"
And that is exactly what happened. While Calon Arang was
away, Manggali gave the book to her husband. Calmly Bahula
read the book. Then he asked permission to show the book to the
sage. Bahula went to Lemah-tulis. Though nothing is mentioned
of his journey, he arrived promptly at the retreat and went

96
straightaway to see the sage, who happened to be sitting in the of-
fering hall. The ascetic was greatly surprised to see Bahula come,
bringing the book, and bowing before him. So spoke the sage,
"Oh, Bahula! You have come with a holy book for me. Could it
be Calon Arang's perhaps?"
Bahula answered that the text was in fact Calon Arang's. The
sage read it. The contents of the book explained the path to piety.
Verily, the true road to salvation, the message of the book was the
essence of religion, but it had been perverted by Calon Arang for
evil into a course heading for destruction. The sage told Bahula,
"Go back to Girah. Take the book with you and tell Manggali to
put it away again. Tomorrow I will follow you. I want to go
through the areasthe graveyards and the fieldswhich have suf-
fered from the pestilence. You had better go now."
Bahula bowed low before the sage, brushing across his feet, and
then took his leave to return to Girah, where he ordered Manggali
to put the book away. For the present, we will leave Bahula.

97
6

Let us return to the story of the sage. The next day he left the
hermitage escorted by three of his pupils. Bharadah's journey was
swift and we will not dwell on it. He arrived at the villages which
had been struck by the disease. The roads were silent and the grass
was high. There he met a person building a fire to cremate the
corpses. Searching among the corpses the sage came across a
woman sobbing and embracing the body of her dead husband. The
corpse was wrapped in white cloth. The sage told her, "Oh, how it
grieves me to see you sobbing and holding your husband's body
so! Let me see him." He unwrapped the corpse a little and felt a
pulse. He unwound the cloth some more and the breathing started
again. In the time it takes to chew two quid of sirih, the dead man
was able to sit up and say to the sage, "My Lord, how great is the
debt we owe to you. How will we ever repay you?"
Bharadah replied, "Do not concern yourself with that. It does
not matter. Now, I have to leave you and continue with my
journey."
The sage continued on his way, until he came across three corp-
ses lying side by side. Two were still in tact while the third had
already started to decompose. He sprinkled the two undecayed
bodies with water and the dead came back to life.
He moved on from there and came to a house. The yard was still
and empty and the grass was high. Entering the house he found
two neighbours dying. One was groaning in agony, while in the
other, his, pulse was the only sign of life. Sprinkled with water,
they were revived. They bowed and offered thanks to the sage.
Mpu Bharadah told two of his pupils to return to the hermitage
because the graveyard at Lemah-tulis was unattended. The two
students went home after taking leave with due respect. Their

98
journey was swift and we need not concern ourselves with it.
We will continue with Bharadah's adventures. He moved on
towards the southwest, through cemeteries, fields of grass and
ferns, planted with widuri trees. Dogs howled and bayed as they
ate corpses in the thick beds of ferns. Ravens called from the trees.
Seeing the sage approach, the baying dogs and the cackling ravens
fell silent. All the dead lying along the sage's path came back to life
when his glance fell on them, provided their bodies had not yet
decomposed.
Some distance off a weeping woman was wandering aimlessly to
and fro, in amongst the graves. Seeing her there the sage came to
her and she fell at his feet. She spoke to him, saying, "My Lord, I
beg of you, your Holiness. I am trying to follow my husband. I am
so terribly heart-broken. Show me the way so that I may join my
husband."
The sage answered her, saying, "I am not able to do this. If your
husband's body is still in tact, you may be able to be with him
again. But if he has rotted away you will not. But you can still
meet him after death. I will show heaven to you and your husband.
But abide by this condition: do not fail to take care. If you
remember these teachings of mine, you will certainly meet your
husband."
The woman made her obeisance and took the advice of the sage.
Nothing more is told of her.

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7

The sage went to the centre of the graveyard. There he met


Wokirsa and Mahisawadana, the pupils of Calon Arang. Seeing
the sage, they came to him, and bowed to his feet.
The sage, Bharadah, said, "What sort of people are you and
what are your names? Since I do not know, you must tell me!"
Wokirsa and Mahisawadana answered as they paid homage at
his feet. "My Lord, we are pupils of the widow of Girah. Take
pity upon us, Oh Lord. We ask that you free us from our sins."
The sage replied, "You cannot attain forgiveness until it is
sought by Calon Arang. Go and tell her that I want to speak with
her."
Wkfirsa and Mahisawadana took their leave, bowing and pay-
ing homage. Calon Arang was worshipping in the graveyard tem-
ple. The Goddess Bhagawati had only just gone back after talking
with the widow of Girah. The Goddess had said to her, "Oh,
Calon Arang, do not forget to take care. Your end is near." Thus
spoke the goddess.
Wokirsa and Mahisawadana appeared unexpectedly and told
her that Bharadah the sage had come. Calon Arang said, "Ah, so
my daughter's father-in-law, Bharadah, has arrived. I will go to
meet him!"
Calon Arang went to meet the sage. The widow of Girah greeted
him, with the words, "My Lord, Bharadah! I welcome the father-
in-law of my daughter. I wish to ask you to teach me the way of
piety."
The ascetic said, "Good! I will teach you in the knowledge of
piety, but do not get too angry, Calon Arang. First let me tell you
that you have murdered, cast a stain upon the world, spread sor-
row and misery among the people, and brough destruction upon

100
them: all this is evil. You have sinned greatly against the world.
Many people have fallen sick. Murdering people throughout the
kingdom is too horrendous a sin. This means you cannot be
forgiven, unless you submit to death. And even by so doing, if you
do not feel truly repentent, how do you expect to be forgiven?"
Said Calon Arang, "Clearly 1 have committed a great sin against
the world. This being so, forgive me, oh great sage. Take pity on
your relative."
"I cannot forgive you now," stated the ascetic.
Angrily, the widow of Girah burst out, "What use is it my being
a relative by marriage if you are not prepared to intercede for my
forgiveness. If you are not going to forgive me, I may as well die
with even greater sins upon me. Bharadah, the sage, 1 will cast a
spell on you!" Then Calon Arang danced tumbling over and
over, her hair a mess, her eyes ablaze, hands pointing at the sage.
"I will kill you right here and now, Bharadah. Perhaps you just
do not know how powerful my magic is. See that huge banyan
tree? I will cast my spell on it. Keep your eyes on it, Bharadah!" In
a flash the banyan tree was shattered by the terrifying gaze of
Calon Arang.
The ascetic called out, "Oh, Calon Arang. Try even more terri-
fying spells this time. I will not be impressed!"
So Calon Arang intensified the power of her spell. Fire shot
from her eyes, nose, ears and mouth, blazing wildly and licking the
sage's body. But he was not hurt. He calmly continued to protect
the universe. The sage challenged, "I will not die from your spells.
But it is I who will end your life. Die where you stand!" And
Calon Arang was struck dead. But then Bharadah remembered,
"Ah, I have not yet given my relative guidance in salvation. Come
back to life, Calon Arang!" She revived and said, "Your servant
was dead. Why have you revived me again?"
The sage answered, "My reason for bringing you back to life is
that I had not yet instructed you about your salvation and your
heaven, nor how to rid yourself of your sins."
"Bless you! How glad am I! If that is what you say, Oh, sage,
you are extending your forgiveness to me. If my Lord is prepared

101
to forgive me, I will bow to the dust on your feet, oh Lord sage."
Calon Arang entreated his Lordship to teach her about salvation
and to show her the path to paradise. After being given instruction
by Bharadah, Calon Arang took her leave, bowing low to the feet
of the sage.
"Accept forgiveness, my relative, Calon Arang", said the sage.
So died Calon Arang in a state of grace. The corpse of the widow
of Girah was cremated by the ascetic.
Wokirsa and Mahisawadana surrendered themselves up to the
sage, begging to be received as his nuns, for they too had been
forgiven along with the widow of Girah. And they were taken as
nuns by the sage. Nothing more is told of Calon Arang.

102
8

The ascetic went to Girah to visit Bahula and told him that
Calon Arang had passed away. Immediately when the sage arrived
he was exalted by the people of Girah.
Bahula came up to the sage, making obeisance and bowing at his
feet. This ascetic told him, "Yes Bahula, I have come to tell you
that Calon Arang is dead, but I have given her complete
forgiveness. Go to the capital and tell His Highness that Calon
Arang is no longer. Wkcirsa and Mahisawadana have given
themselves totally over to me and have become my pupils. Tell him
that I am here."
Bahula paid homage and begged his leave of the sage. He left
for the capital. Nothing is told of his journey, but he arrived with
speed and found his Highness in the audience hall. Bahula told
him, "My Lord, Bahula comes bringing good tiding for his Royal
Highness. Calon Arang has been killed by the sage. Wkcirsa and
Mahisawadana have turned earnestly to the sage and have become
his pupils. The ascetic is now at Girah."
To this the king replied, "If what you say is true, Bahula, he has
been admirably successful. Patih Dharmmamurtti! Prapare car-
riages and elephants, for my queen and I will go to see the sage at
Girah. Patih and kanuruhan, make haste and follow me!"
Not long afterwards King Erlangga departed on his way to
Girah with all his entourage. The air was full of the thunderous
sound of the gongs, horses and flags a-flutter. The army marched
in a throng, filling the roads. We are not told of His Majesty's
journey, but he reached Girah in no time and headed straightaway
for the place where Bharadah was being lauded by the people of
Girah. On arriving, King Erlangga was greeted by the sage. "My
Lord Maharaja, how happy I am that you have come to visit your

103
servant here. My Lord, I declare to you that Calon Arang is dead.
Wkcirsa and Mahisawadana have turned themselves over com-
pletely to me for protection."
His Majesty replied, "I am elated that Calon Arang is no longer.
How joyful I feel! This curse on the world, this stain, this
catastrophe that struck my people has been wiped out. Our debt to
you, oh, Most High Sage, is incalculable. I doubt there is any way
I can ever repay you. But despite that I will repay you, though my
debt is beyond all comprehension."
"There is no reason for you to say that", replied the ascetic, "I
have not yet finished telling you about Calon Arang. After she
died, I decided to make amende for the consequences that arose
from the crimes of that base devil Calon Arang. I want to con-
struct a temple as a sign of recompense for the victims."
His Majesty agreed with the sentiments of the sage, who con-
tinued, "Your Royal Highness, perhaps it would be better for you
to return to the capital while I rid us of every vestage of Calon
Arang. When I have completed the purification of the holy place
at Girah, I will go to the capital to call upon you there."
King Erlangga answered, "My Lord, I beg leave of you, my
most exalted sage, to return now to the capital. The kanuruhan
will stay here to escort you, great sage, to the capital later."

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9

Let us continue the story of Bharadah, the sage, who stayed in


Girah to complete the sacrificial retribution for Calon Arang. All
expenses were borne by His Majesty, the king, and his kanuruhan
assisted the ascetic. After the restitution was completed, he called
the place the Rabut (temple or holy place) of Girah and it was
honoured by the people of the village of Girah.
Not long after the sage had completed his work, he left for the
capital by carriage, with the kanuruhan escorting him on
horseback. Mpu Bahula was not left behind either. Though
nothing is mentioned about their journey, they arrived soon in the
capital.
His Royal Highness came out from the palace to meet Bharadah
at the battlements surrounding his audience hall. The sound of
gongs, gamelan* music and trumpets resounded deafeningly.
When his Majesty caught sight of the sage, he alighted from his
carriage and escorted him into the palace. He invited the ascetic to
sit in his ivory castle, and the king sat beside him. The king said,
"My Lord, I Erlangga, have come to make obeisance to you, great
sage. I seek to become one of your followers. I ask a favour of
you: that you explain the Dharmma to me. I seek to become a
pupil of yours, and to leave behind all my bad attributes, such as
greed, arrogance, selfishness, cruelty, jealousy, materialism, impa-
tience and anger. I want to become a humble student of yours. I
have been a great king of the realm; I have tasted happiness and
worldly wealth in all its excesses. But now I seek to know of death
and its purpose, of hell and of heaven." Thus spoke the great king
Erlangga to the sage, and the sage Bharadah, answered saying,

*) Javanese or Balinese orchestra

105
"Praise be to you, Your Highness, for these fine sentiments. How
happy all the people will be if this comes to pass. So my Lord
wishes to study the Dharmma?
His Majesty spoke again, asking about payment. "My Lord,
how much money is required to cover the costs of these
ceremonies? How much should I pay your Lordship? What is the
smallest, the average and the largest amounts I could pay?"
The sage told His Majesty, "There is no point in discussing the
matter of payment. Even if you paid nothing, but were devoted to
your teacher it would be the same as paying handsomely. Even if
you made some payment but were not loyal to your teacher, it
would be the same as contributing nothing at all. Now, let me ex-
plain this matter of payment. All over the world money is said to
be the key to getting people to talk. The lowest contribution is
about 1,600, the average is 4,000, while the highest begins at
around 8,000, with an even higher payment than this being 80,000.
That is the extent of the contributions. Despite this, if you are not
loyal to your teacher, it is the same as not paying anything at all.
Both he who is loyal and he who pays something should obey his
teacher's instruction, irrespective of whether it is serious or not,
difficult or easy, raining or hot. He would never contravene any of
his teacher's instructions. This becomes his payment. It is excellent
if you pay a large contribution, are loyal and resolute and do not
break the principles. That would really be excellent. My Lord, you
are a king. If you wish to live as a holy man, pay whatever amount
you want to.
His Majesty replied, "I have decided to offer you 8,000, my
Lord."
The sage said, "I will do as you have requested. I will explain
about the offerings; 27 sirih leaves with lime should be placed on
the sirih container, together with a golden phalus, crowned with a
ruby. Scatter flowers of gold and silver, forged, beaten thinly, and
then cut out, with an adequate number of wijanya flowers made
from rubies. If it should happen that, my Lord becomes dispirited
in this search for knowledge, then at the very worst, you will still
be honoured and respected as king by all the peoples of the earth."

106
So the king followed all the advice of the ascetic. Immediately
he ordered the making of offerings, and the flowers for scattering.
A most beautiful building was also constructed. The king and his
queen bathed and shampooed to purify themselves. The offerings
were prepared with the fullest attention to detail. King Erlangga
stood before Bharadah in the building, the beauty of which had no
parallel. Smoke from all kinds of incense and lamps billowed up-
wards. The gamelan, gongs and all kinds of trumpets played in
great reverberation.
The sage said, "Come here, my child, oh great king. Now, as
you have requested, I am going to carry out the ceremony to in-
itiate you as one of my pupils, which I shall do according to the
precepts. I bestow the title of Jatiningrat upon you."
His Majesty and the queen bowed low before Bharadah, who
then placed a flower into the water of a sirih container placed upon
a golden tray. The flower was dipped three times and then the king
and queen were blessed by the sage.
Thus His Majesty was given guidance by the sage, concerning all
kinds of religious sciences. After completing the lessons, he
pointed out to His Majesty the best possible path to be taken by
him (for example, to live as an ascetic either in the city or in the
mountains) and what is called 'Caturarama', or the four levels of
human existence. These are: grhastha (the head of the household),
wanapastra (a dweller of the forests), biksuka (Buddhist monk),
and brahmacarika (Brahmanic ascetic). Agrehasthama refers to a
monk who is married and has children and grandchildren.
Wanapastra refers to a hermit who lives in the forests. Wana -
means forest and pa tra means leaves and grass. He does not eat
unless he can pick grass or leaves where he lives.
Bhiksuka refers to an advanced monk who has almost attained
salvation, who controls both life and death. He may have all kinds
of servants from all social strata, and he may marry or take con-
cubines. The king may not interfere because this is his right.
Brahmacari exist in many forms. For example, ukla-
brahmacari, tan-tresna-brahmacari, sawala-brahmacari and

107
bramacari-temen. The one who is called ukla-brahmacari is a
child originating from the dust of a volcanic eruption who has
never tasted rice or side dishes and does not know conjugal rela-
tions. A cuklabrahmacari is a person who has become a hermit
from birth.
A tan-tresna-brahmacari is one who has achieved a little piety
and understands it just a fraction, and then leaves society and his
wife and family, without reason, to become a hermit. This is what
is meant by a tan-tresna-brahmacari. He who is called a sawala-
brahmacari is a person who becomes a hermit because he looses
arguments with his wife, and so becomes ashamed, or a person
who is ordered to do battle for his lord, but fails to win, and again
becomes a hermit out of shame. That is what a sawala-brahmacari
is. A brahmacari-temen is any monk who knows the essence of all
truth, the source and purpose of the world and his own place in it.
This is what is meant by a brahmacari-temen. Those are the details
about the various types of monks.
"And my child, Your Highness, do not fail to adhere to the Tra-
ditions of the past! Do not give up your relationship to the world.
That which existed in the past, should not be created in the pre-
sent. That which was valid in former times should still be main-
tained in the present. Do nothing without caution. You should
revive the rule of the gods, the rule of the king, good diplomacy,
(Rajakapa-kapa), the code of law laid down by King Manu, the
first law-giver, the holy law and the noble conduct. I hope that you
will be happy enjoying the things of this world, and I wish you suc-
cess as the supreme king of this land of Java. May you even extend
you sway over further islands. May all your people be happy, even
moreso once you have mastered the dharmma, know the in-
tricacies of life and death, heaven and hell, and really understand
the place to which you will return, and once you know the source
and direction of all the world. Then there will be nothing which wil
bewilder you. Remember all this. Do not forget it."
His Majesty answered the sage saying, "Your servant expresses
his boundless gratitude to you, oh Great Sage, for all the advice
which you have passed on in your teachings to me. How great is

108
your love for your child. I feel I have been truly enlightened.
And with that the ascetic's ceremony was completed. Then the
sage was served with all kinds of foods. Nothing was lacking, and
he was greatly honoured by the king. After dark the sage went to
the ivory palace where he spent the night.
The following day, he took his leave of the king, saying, "My
Lord, your servant begs his leave, for I wish to return to my her-
mitage."
His Highness replied, "Peace be with you, My Lord, on your
journey home. Now your child would offer you something."
His Majesty gave instructions to his patih and the kanuruhan to
prepare carriages, elephants and horses to take the ascetic back to
his hermitage. Then the king offered the sage 500,000 coins, 50
suits of clothes, gold and jewels in abundance, as well as a hundred
slaves with buffaloes and cattle to work the rice fields. The sage
said, "I give you thanks for your gifts Your Majesty. But I also
leave a request with you; that you always take pity on those who
suffer and remember especially to honour holy men always."
The king offered obeisance sweeping low before the sage,
Bharadah. The sage spoke again, saying, "Go, my child, but do
not forget all that I have told you."
The ascetic departed riding in his carriage, escorted by the patih
and the kanuruhan together with the high officials. Though
nothing is told of their journey, they arrived soon at the hermitage
in the graveyard at Lemah-tulis. The patih, the kanuruhan and the
other high officials begged their leave of the ascetic and returned
to the capital. Nothing is told of the journey of the patih, the
kanuruhan an the other officials from the retreat.
Let us continue with the story of the sage. He was greeted by his
daughter, Wedawati, at the gateway. He was really happy and
together they entered the hermitage.

109
10

Let us continue the story of His Royal Highness in the capital.


He was relieved to have his supremacy restored. The people lived a
life of order free from any kind of hindrance during His Majesty's
reign. Roads passing through places made dangerous because of
frequent robberies were patrolled and villages were established
nearby. Roads running through the hot dry fields were planted
with shady trees stretching both sides of the way. So passersby us-
ing the roads were sheltered from the heat of the sun. And all this
is to say nothing of the foreigners who came from other islands to
bow and offer themselves in submission to His Majesty. People
came from such far-flung places as Palembang, Jambi, Malacca,
Singapore, Patani, Pahang, Siam, Champa, China, Koci, Keling,
Tatar, Pego, Kedah, Kutawaringin, Kute, Bangka, Sunda,
Madura, Kangeyan, Makasar, Goron, Wandan, Peleke, the
Moluccas, Bolo, Timor, Dompo, Bima, Sumbawa and Sasak.
Countless other islands sent tribute to the king who bore the title
of Maharaja Erlangga Jatiningrat. The Brahman priests, the
scribes and ascetics fulfilled their separate roles. The farmers were
at peace. Rain fell in abundance. Every harvest was reaped in
bounty and all foods were cheap. The soldiers lived a very ordered
life, following the old inherited traditions.
His Royal Highness had two sons, both equaly young and hand-
some. Both stood in line for the throne, but he was undecided as to
which one should become king. He intended to make one king on
Java and the other king on another island, but he was still in some
doubt. Why this uncertainty? Because both his sons were still
young, and lacked experience. If it came to pass that they were not
tolerant towards their subjects, then of course, ultimately, their
people would drift from them. Because of that, he would not per-

110
mit either of them to become king in any place too far away. What
he wanted was for one of them to become king in Bali and the
other in Java, because Bali was quite close; you could almost say,
it was the same as Java.
His Majesty conferred with the patih, the kanuruhan, the regent
and all the other officials. He said, "Patih, Kanuruhan, and all my
officials, I intend to enthrone one of my sons as king in Bali and
the other as king in Java. What is your opinion on the matter?
Also I still have to send an emmissary to ask the advice of my
teacher."
The patih and the officials answered that it was best to seek the
sage's guidance. So his Majesty sent the kanuruhan as his envoy to
the ascetic's retreat. Begging his leave of the king with a bow, the
kanuruhan left in his carriage. The kanwuhan 's journey was quick
and nothing is told of it, except that not long afterwards, he arriv-
ed at the hermitage. Alighting from his carriage, he entered the
gateway and happened across the sage in th pendopo conversing
with his pupils. The sage greeted and received him. "Welcome my
child. What brings you to my hermitage?"
The kanuruhan answered, "Your servant has been sent by your
son, the king, to request your advice. His Majesty has two sons.
He wishes to make one king on Bali and the other on Java. It is
this matter on which he seeks your advice. Whatever you have to
say will be heeded by His Majesty."
The wise sage said, "Oh, so that is what the king wishes. But
that may not be, because on Bali, although there is presently no
king, there is a sage who has a hermitage in the village of
ilayukti, who is older than I. He is a man of unbelievably strong
supernatural power, and is called Mpu Kuturan. I will go to Bali
first to ask his agreement. But you, kanuruhan, should return to
the capital and offer all that I have said to the king. As soon as I
return from Bali, I will come straightaway to the capital to see His
Majesty, and to tell him what I have found out in Bali."
The kanuruhan offered obeisance and took his leave to return to
the capital. He left the retreat and nothing more is told of him for
the present.

Ill
11

Let us continue with the story of the sage, Bharadah. He in-


structed his daughter, Wedawati, "My child, do not be in a hurry
to attain salvation. Wait until I come back from Bali, for I have
not yet completed my duty. Tomorrow you and I will go
together." His daughter obeyed.
Bharadah, the sage, left for the hermitage at Sukti on Bali. On
the way, he passed through the villages from Watulangi to
Kutikuti, where he spent the night. The next day he set out via
Kapulungan, and at Sekarrawi in Gading he turned northwards,
going through Momorang, and continuing via Andelan, arriving
quickly in Segararupek. There he waited for a boat to ferry him
across, but not a single one appeared. He was somewhat
bewildered, but finally found a keluwih leaf on the beach. He set it
afloat upon the water and stepped on. Standing on the keluwih
leaf he headed towards the east, to Kapurancak. There Bharadah
alighted from the keluwih leaf and hid it. He went on to the her-
mitage at ilayukti. Though his journey is not described the sage
quickly arrived at the village of Sukti and sat himself down in the
pendopo.
At that time Kuturan the ascetic was practising yoga. Bharadah
waited for a long time, but Kuturan did not emerge from the her-
mitage, continuing his meditation. Bharadah became impatient
waiting in the pendopo, so he created a flood of water which
submerged the ascetic Kuturan up to his neck. But he continued at
his yoga undisturbed, acting as if nothing had happened.
Bharadah then conjured up a mass of itching ants, which floated
across the water and swarmed up over Kuturan's neck. But he still
continued his yoga. Then suddenly the water evaporated and
vanished and the itching ants too, dissapeared as if swept away. He

112
knew that his colleague from Lemah-tulis had come, but he was
pretending that he did not. Finally after Bharadah had been
waiting for a long, long time, the ascetic Kuturan came out of the
hermitage. Bharadah came down from the seat in the pendopo and
was welcomed by Mpu Kuturan. "Welcome, sage. What brings
my lord here? After all, it is most unusual for you to come here.
Please, sit down. It has been a long time since you were last here
on a visit."
Bharadah made obeisance and sat down, then spoke to the
ascetic Kuturan, saying, "Thank you for your welcome, my Lord.
I have come to see my Lord and to ask your acquiescence. A pupil
of mine, the Maharaja of Java, called Erlangga Jatiningrat, has
two sons. One of them will be enthroned on Bali and the other will
remain in Java, so that both Bali and Java can soon be united in
peace and happiness. This is my purpose in coming, my brother."
The ascetic Kuturan said, "So that is why you have come here,
my brother. I cannot agree to that. I did not know that His Majes-
ty was going to place a king to reign over Bali. I myself have a
descendent, a grandson, whom I intend to make king of Bali."
The sage, Bharadah, spoke again. "My brother, may I point out
to you further that all the other islands, even great kingdoms, all
bow in submission to Java and all offer tribute payments."
Kuturan the ascetic answered, "I am not concerned about
whether they all pay tribute to Java. But I will not permit Bali to
do likewise. Java and Bali may possibly be united as one state by
war, but I will do all within my power to prevent it. Only after I am
dead will the king of Java be free to extend his rule over Bali."
Bharadah the sage then left the hermitage. Once outside he
created an earthquake of staggering proportions. Some trees col-
lapsed and many- others snapped into pieces. People living on the
edge of the river fell in and drowned. Many of the farmes' houses
were demolished. People throughout the entire kingdom of Bali
were terrified and envoys from the capital were sent to the ascetic
at Sukti to ask about the earthquake. The messengers asked the
hermit, "My Lord, what is the meaning of this earthquake? It has
been so tremendously violent!"

113
Kuturan the hermit answered, "Do not be afraid. Stay in your
houses and remain calm. A visitor of mine from Java has wrought
this disaster upon me. It is he who has caused the earthquake."
The envoies from the palace made obeisance and took their leave,
running of. Nothing more is told of them.
And what of the story of the sage Bharadah? He left the
ilayukti hermitage and arrived quickly at Kapuncak. In a mo-
ment he found the keluwih leaf he had used to carry himself across
the water. But the leaf sunk. He got back on it, but it sunk once
more. Bharadah the sage started to loose his self-confidence, and
began to think to himself, "Why is this happening to me? Perhaps
I will not be able to make it back to Java again." Suddenly he
thought to himself, "Oh, of course! I have not yet taken my leave
of the ascetic at Sukti. I must return to beg his permission to return
home."
So Bharadah the sage went back to the hermit Kuturan. He ar-
rived at the hermitage with all speed and met the ascetic from the
village of Sukti. Bowing low before him, he begged his leave,
"Brother, may I go now?"
The hermit from Sukti said, "Of course, my brother, good-
bye."

114
12

Bharadah the sage departed from the hermitage and journeyed


quickly arriving soon at Kapuncak. Standing upon the keluwih
leaf he floated easily across the water towards the west, arriving at
Segara-rupek, and landing there. We are not told of his journey,
but he arrived soon in the capital, Daha, and met with the Mahara-
ja Erlangga who was in his audience hall. Mpu Bharadah entered
the centre of the chamber where His Majesty bowed low, embrac-
ing the sage's feet and touching his forehead to them.
The sage apologised saying, "Oh, my child. I have not succeed-
ed in my journey to Bali. The ascetic in the village of ilayukti will
not permit a son of yours to become the king of Bali. He refused
my request angrily. One of his own grandchildren is to be elevated
to the kingship. I had been there only a short while when he strug-
gled against my mystical power. I almost did not make it back to
Java again. I tried riding back on a keluwih leaf, but it sank."
His Majesty bowed low to the sage's feet, and then said, "My
Lord, if that is the case, then do not worry yourself about it, for
the power of this ascetic from Bali must be amazing. If you persist
you will only succeed in worrying yourself sick. I will simply divide
the island of Java into two."
The sage said, "That is a good idea. I agree wholeheartedly,
your Majesty. Call the kingdoms Janggala and Kadiri. Do not
delay, but make the arrangements immediately while I am here,
but I want to go and rest first."
The sage was escorted back to spend the night in the ivory
palace. There he was entertained by his Majesty the king. We will
leave the story of Bharadah the sage for the moment.
Let us continue the story of his Majesty. The king went out to
the audience chamber once more and ordered that two thrones be

115
made and that a special ceremonial hall be constructed for his
sons, because they were to be invested as kings. Though the hall
was to be only temporary, it was to be a most beautiful structure,
with pillars wrapped in multi-coloured materials.
Let us say no more of how exquisitely beautiful were all the
decoration of gold and gems of nine different kinds. The
thrones which were made were placed one in the east and one in
the west. The religious teachers, brahman priests, scribes and
ascetics were all in the celebration hall ready to bestow their bless-
ings.
The two princes, after being dressed in their fineries, went out to
receive homage, and then they entered the specially constructed
hall. There they were both given identical ceremonial parapher-
nalia blessed by the brahman priests, scribes and the ascetics who
crowned them. The sound of gongs, gamelan, trumpets and other
music filled the air.
After they had received their blessings, they mounted their
respective thrones: a most glorious sight. He who was enthroned
on the eastern throne was called the king of Janggala while the one
on the western throne was called the king of Kadiri.
After this, they each established their palaces with their
fortresses, and they were called the cities of Janggala and Kadiri.
And with that, they both happily commenced their reigns as kings.

116
13

On one occasion, the king of Kadiri listened to bad advice from


people within his government. His Majesty wanted to go to war
and attack his elder brother, the King of Janggala. His Majesty
prepared his army to invade Janggala.
The King of Janggala, hearing that he was to be attacked by the
King of Kadiri, approached his father, the king, and said to him,
"Father, I am to be invaded by your son from Kadiri."
King Erlangga said, "What is the meaning of this? Do not fight
back. I will send an envoy to Kadiri. You return first to Janggala."
Taking his leave, the king of Janggala went home. The old
king's envoy went to Kadiri to restrain the king of Kadiri and to
stop the war. But the king of Kadiri did not obey, but still wanted
to invade Janggala. The sounds of instruments, trumpets, gongs
and hectic gamelan music droned aloft, deafening the ear, blen-
ding with the noise of horses, elephants and flags. Mounted troops
followed, pressing close behind.
The king of Janggala was prepared already too, to withstand
and repulse the attacks from the Kadiri army. The armies were
huge. The noise was like thunder. The sound of the army on the
march was like a flood of lava. The front lines had already joined
in battle in a holocaust of slaughter. Let us tell no more of the war.
We will continue the tale of king Erlangga. His Majesty had told
the sage what had happened and requested that he stop the war.
The sage went, firstly, to the king of Kadiri. Immediately he arriv-
ed there, he met with the king who was sitting in the audience hall,
facing his soldiers. His Majesty saw the sage coming. He came
down from his throne and made obeisance before the ascetic, and
extended a welcome to him.
The sage said, "Thank you for your greetings, my grandchild. I

117
come with the intention of stopping your war. I want to tell you
about the boundaries that divide Java into two parts. Heed my
words, my grandchild. If you fail to listen to my advice and fight
against your brother again, I will bring down a curse upon you."
The king of Kadiri answered, "How could your grandchild fail
to follow all that a sage says?"
The sage said, "Good, my grandchild. Praise be, if you obey all
my words. I will leave you now. I am going to Janggala to stop this
war with the king of Janggala. I will cast a curse upon him if he
refused to obey."
Bharadah went to Janggala. The ascetic's journey is not describ-
ed. Quickly he came to the king of Janggala and met him seated
before his army. Seeing the sage coming, the king of Janggala
descended from his throne, and bowed before him. The king of
Janggala said, "Welcome, O sage! What reason has your Lordship
for coming to see your grandson? Please, sit down."
The wise sage sat down and said, "My reason for coming to my
grandson, the king, is to stop you warring. I will divide the tribute
which comes from this island of Java in two, even down to the
number of farmers and I shall notify your father the king of the
division. I will bring peace to you two brothers. Obey my judge-
ment, my grandson. I will curse you should you fight again. Do
not listen to poisonous words, my child. Do nothing without
wisdom."
The king of Janggala answered, "Oh, my sage, how could I fail
to follow everything that my Lord said, because it is those very
words that point the way to piety."
After this, the kings of Janggala and Kadiri withdrew their
forces. The territory and inhabitants were all divided into two by
the sage. They both knew their own boundaries and everyone was
prosperous.

118
14

The ascetic went back to the territory of King Erlangga and met
with him there. When his Majesty saw him coming he descended
from his throne and bowed, touching his head to the sage's feet.
The ascetic said, "I have brought an end to the war between your
two sons and divided all the lands equally. They each know their
own boundaries and all are prosperous once again. I will bring
down a curse upon whosoever violates these boundaries. Both your
sons have obeyed. I would now like the son of the patih to become
patih in Janggala and the son of the kanuruhan to become the
patih of Kadiri. I want to do this in the hope that they will no
longer cause trouble, and so that everything will be well organised.
They will be cursed by me should they not obey. I saw this because
the patih and the kanuruhan want to be initiated as my pupils and
follow you in studying the Dharmma. "
His Majesty said to his teacher, "What you say, great sage, is
very true. Now the patih and the kanuruhan want to follow in my
footsteps, becoming pupils of yours, studying the Dharmma, and
living from the tithes of the coal and salt sellers. And they wish to
pay you for the moderately priced ceremony which costs 4,000."
The ascetic said, "The patih and the kanuruhan really have a
strong desire to follow in your footsteps, living a life of grief.
Prepare everything immediately,for I wisht to return home to the
hermitage."
Quickly the ceremony was prepared complete with flowers and
offerings. The patih and the kanuruhan were adorned. After the
completion of the ceremony they were given instruction in the
Dharmma.
His Majesty said to his teacher, "My Lord, your work preparing
the patih and the kanuruhan is finished."

119
The sage spoke again, saying, "My child, I take my leave. I want
to return home to the hermitage. You give lessons to the patih and
the kanuruhan. "
His Majesty made obeisance before his teacher, and touched his
forehead to the hermit's feet. Then the sage departed. As for the
patih and the kanuruhan, they wanted to follow the Buddhist
monk Bharadah, but he would not permit that. They both bowed
low, and touched their heads to the sage's feet.

120
15

The sage's journey took place without anything untoward hap-


pening. Nothing is told of the journey, but he came soon to the
hermitage and met his daughter, Wedawati. She said, "My Lord
has come home!", and sat down making obeisance.
The ascetic answered, "Yes, my child, I have come. I have been
waiting a long time to return home to the hermitage, but I had not
completed my task. Now my work, is finished and I can return."
Wedawati spoke again. "When does my Lord wish to achieve
salvation?"
The hermit answered, "So my child wants to find salvation im-
mediately? Wait a moment longer. I want to give Wokirsa a
message."
Startled, Wokirsa and Mahisawadana made obeisance and,
facing the sage, with their heads bowed, they said, "Oh, sage, are
you going to salvation? Wokirsa and Mahisawadana also want to
be saved."
The hermit said, "Wokirsa and Mahisawadana, you are not yet
ready to achieve salvation. You will die three years hence. Later
you will be re-united with me. I must leave you here."
After giving them this message, the sage was silent. In the blink
of an eye he achieved salvation together with his daughter
Wedawati. Saved, the two became ethereal. After the sage
Bharadah and his daughter Wedawati attained salvation they
became 'mur', or invisible, so the retreat in the Lemah-tulis
cemetery became called the Murare hermitage. Nothing more is
said about it.
Let us tell the story of the son of the sage, Bharadah, who lived
at Lemah-tulis. He was then called Yajnecwara. He took all the
contents of the hermitage in the graveyard; anything that was
121
there. For example, the books, and especially the gold pieces and
jewels, the rice, money and all the slaves as well as the water buf-
faloes and the cattle. He took them all, and brought them to the
Lemah-tulis village. All that he left were supplies and provisions
for Wokirsa and Mahisawadana who remained at the hermitage
in the graveyard.
Then the retreat became known as the hermitage at Uwih-citra.
It became sacred because descendents of Bharadah the sage lived
there, which meant it became a place for mystic scribes. This same
thing happened at Rupit, where a pupil of Bharadah the sage lived,
so that even Rupit became a sacred place.
This is the story of Mpu Bharadah, when he lived in the Lemah-
tulis graveyard. The writing of the story was completed in a cave,
in the Mount Cemara graveyard, facing west, overlooking a river,
in the year 1462 aka.

122
Oi>0 1^3.

A PN BALAI PUSTAKA-JAKARTA

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