The fall of a Deity<\/p>\n
By Putu Arya Tirtawirya<\/p>\n
In his living room, in the last of the evening's fading light,
\nHigh Priest Ida Pedanda Madi Sugriwa paced back and forth as he
\nground his false teeth on the stem of his cold pipe that jutted
\noutward from his face beneath a white mustache streaked with gray
\nfrom the near-constant billows of tobacco smoke pouring from the
\ntunnels of his prominent nose. His nostrils and the pipe's bowl
\nwere strikingly similar in appearance.<\/p>\n
\"Discrimination,\" his visitor had said. The man's effrontery,
\nhis bold words earlier that evening rang like a harsh knell in
\nhis ears. He stood erect for a moment to relight his pipe. \"I'm
\nsure that your opinion is not that of a priest but of a personal
\nnature. Seems like discrimination to me.\" He exhaled the smoke
\nfrom his pipe so forcefully it seemed to whistle through the air
\nbefore being deflected and dispersed by the green-colored wall
\nopposite him. He nodded his head while stroking the smooth skin
\nof his chin.<\/p>\n
His visitor, who had left no more than a half hour ago, was a
\nyoung man of around thirty. He had no mustache but did sport a
\nwispy beard. His waist sash, used as a cinch for his batik
\nsarong, matched the color of his shirt. He sat, cross-legged on
\nthe floor, several meters distant.<\/p>\n
When the young man began to explain the purpose of his visit
\nIda Pedanda cocked his ears while keeping a bright look on his
\nface.<\/p>\n
\"I've come to see you, Pelungguh Pedanda, to ask you to
\ndetermine an auspicious day for as well as your willingness to
\nformalize the marriage of my younger brother.\"<\/p>\n
\"When did your brother get married?\" asked the aging high
\npriest in a fatherly tone.<\/p>\n
\"He eloped with her yesterday.\"<\/p>\n
Ida Pedanda Madi Sugriwa nodded his head, then turned towards
\nthe doorway behind him and called to his son: \"Please bring me
\nthat book with the brown cover. It's on my table.\"<\/p>\n
While adding fresh tobacco to his black pipe, he inquired,
\n\"Who did your brother marry?\"<\/p>\n
The young man replied without hesitation: \"Ida Ayu Sukerti.\"<\/p>\n
The old priest, whose topknot resembled a woman's bun
\npositioned squarely atop the crown of his head, stopped lighting
\nhis pipe and gazed steadily at the carpet before him. He ignored
\nhis son, who had come into the room carrying the book that he had
\nrequested. The book was a manual for determining auspicious days
\nfor the holding of religious and life-cycle ceremonies. He
\nsuddenly found himself feeling insulted. He was a man of Brahman
\ndescent, and here, before him, was a supplicant asking him to
\nformalize the marriage of a man and woman of different castes.<\/p>\n
The man, with the title \"Gusti\" before his name was obviously
\nof the ksatria caste, while the woman, who bore the title \"Ida
\nAyu,\" was definitely from the Brahman caste. Under centuries-old
\ncustomary law, such a couple, were they to marry, would be exiled
\nfrom their community, cast out to live in some isolated place.
\nThe old man realized of course that world had changed a good deal
\nand conditions today were no longer what they were when he was in
\nhis childhood, when children, both boys and girls, were not in
\nthe least embarrassed to be seen running around naked in the
\npouring rain. With some trends, he found himself able to keep
\napace. Thing were going to change whether he wanted them to or
\nnot! But the problem that he faced this evening was special.
\nThere was no way that he could accept it.<\/p>\n
In his circle, adherence to the principle of self-respect, as
\nopposed to bowing to peer pressure, was a matter of course. To
\nnot to do so would be like daubing ink on a light-colored cloth;
\nno matter how many times afterwards the cloth was washed, the
\nstain would remain. Rarely before had a situation caused him to
\nthink so deeply. He pondered the problem for several minutes
\nbefore the young man, who was seated half-bowed before him,
\nraised his head.<\/p>\n
\"I won't do it,\" he said to himself. \"Let him find another
\npriest.\" Decision made, he struck a safety match to light his
\npipe. He picked up the thick book with its brown cover, looked
\nthrough it momentarily, then gave the young man what seemed to be
\na look of surprise when his eyes fell on a certain page. \"The
\nauspicious days for formalizing the wedding would be....\"<\/p>\n
The young man leaned forward, his body twisted like a snake
\nready to pounce on a field mouse. Ida Pedanda Madi Sugriwa sat
\nerect one more, groped inside a pocket of his coat, and took out
\nhis glasses. Still holding his pipe in his left hand, he put the
\nglasses on his broad face, then searched through his book of
\ndates. He found himself telling the young man the details of the
\nauspicious days for the event, including the proper names of the
\ndays, weeks and months of the Hindu calendar.<\/p>\n
The young man nodded his head as if trying to comprehend the
\ncalendrical calculations, but as he was likely to have spent far
\nmore time mastering English than Sanskrit, the terms went
\ncompletely over his head. Though aware that his question would
\nreveal his own ignorance, he finally asked the priest, \"Could you
\ntell me what the date would be on the ordinary Indonesian
\ncalendar?\"<\/p>\n
The priest looked at him closely, craning his neck in order to
\nbetter see through his glasses. \"Fifteen days from now. You tell
\nme when that would be.\" He paused before adding, \"Unfortunately,
\nI myself won't be able to preside over the confirmation ceremony.
\nI'm sorry about that. I hope that you'll be able to find another
\npriest.\"<\/p>\n
\"What? Do you have something else to do? Is that why you can't
\ndo it?\"<\/p>\n
Now the priest really felt offended. First this young man's
\nbrother had dared to take a girl from the Brahman caste in
\nmarriage, and now here he was asking him to consecrate his
\nbrother's wedding! \"Dammit,\" he swore beneath his breath. \"This
\nreally is too much.\"<\/p>\n
He drew a deep breath. Since a high priest must not lie, he
\nhad no choice but to be frank: \"Something else to do? No, I don't
\nhave anything planned for that date, but I just think it would be
\nbetter if you found another priest.\"<\/p>\n
\"I'm sorry, I don't understand.\" Amazement seemed to issue
\nfrom the young man's lips. \"But here in this town, in this
\ndistrict, the only high priest is you yourself. So, I really
\ndon't understand.\"<\/p>\n
Ida Pedanda Madi Sugriwa found it hard to break free from his
\nupbringing, to discard that set of beliefs he had held firmly to
\nthrough his youth, his adulthood, and even now as an old man with
\nfalse teeth. Call his attitude feudal but the simple fact was the
\nyoung man's questions made him nervous. All he wished was that
\nhis guest would leave, without making any more fuss. Yet here he
\nwas, face to face with modern times and a talkative
\nrepresentative of the modern human species whose questions, whose
\ndesire to analyze problems, and whose pounding on the doors to
\nthe secrets of life left him completely baffled.<\/p>\n
He knew that he should try to explain things to his guest so
\nthat he wouldn't misunderstand. He also knew that today's youth,
\nwith their own strong and independent attitudes, were sensitive
\nand easily took offense.<\/p>\n
He lowered his arm, resting the fist that held his pipe on his
\nknee. \"The problem is your brother eloped with a woman of the
\nBrahman caste. That will lower her caste level. Speaking as a
\nBrahman, I'm sure you understand why I must refuse what you've
\nasked of me.\"<\/p>\n
\"I'm sorry, sir, but love has united them, and I don't think
\nanything more can be done. It's a fait accompli, a reality that
\nwe can't turn away from.\"<\/p>\n
\"I know that, but as a Brahman I can't agree to it.\"<\/p>\n
\"Forgive me for asking, but if all high priests share your
\nopinion, what is to become of the future generations? Will they
\nshare the same fate as my brother?\"<\/p>\n
The old man's nose twitched repeatedly. His mouth was clamped
\nshut, but he could not stop his lips from trembling. The way he
\nsucked on the stem of his pipe he might have been a child
\nsuckling its mother's breast.<\/p>\n
His words seemed to travel the length of the pipe stem: \"I
\ndon't want to argue. Please, just find another priest!\"<\/p>\n
\"I don't want to argue either,\" the young man replied. \"Please
\nforgive me. I came here to find a high priest, not to talk to a
\nBrahman in his private capacity, especially one who's not in the
\nmood to argue. With your leave, I will go.\"<\/p>\n
The young man uncrossed his legs, stood up, and bowed
\nrespectfully. He then stepped back, turned around, and went
\noutside to his bike, muttering a complaint as he left. Not much
\nof what the young man said was clear, but one particular word, an
\nEnglish word, caught the priest's ear: \"Discrimination.\"<\/p>\n
The priest called his son again and asked him to tell him what
\nthe word meant. His son's answer made him understand what kind of
\nconclusion his guest had reached about him. Now, as he paced back
\nand forth in his living room, that word rang in his ears.<\/p>\n
When a servant lit the lamps in the house, their light fell
\noutside to the front yard and its garden full of blossoming
\nflowers. Ida Pedanda Madi Sugriwa stepped through the doorway of
\nthe living room and called to the servant: \"Go to the house of
\nthat young man who came here with the wispy beard,\" he ordered,
\n\"and tell him tonight that I'll be ready to consecrate the
\nwedding when the time comes.\"<\/p>\n
Translated by I Ketut Dharmita and Thomas M. Hunter.<\/p>\n
The story is taken from Menagerie 4, printed here on the
\ncourtesy of The Lontar Foundation.<\/p>",
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