Ancient empire of Majapahit comes to life

Ancient empire of Majapahit comes to life

By C.G. Miller

SURABAYA (JP): On a recent visit to Indonesia's second largest
city, Surabaya, I happened to be strolling by the convention
rooms of my hotel, when a door was opened by an exited guest. As
the door hung on its hinges, I glimpsed the speaker at the
rostrum, and heard a fragment of his speech that was to change
what had become an otherwise mundane visit, "... the nearby
temples of the Majapahit empire."

Suddenly I thought of how this ancient kingdom had been
brought to life from dusty texts by the force of my history
lecturer's enthusiasm and how he tried to pass this excitement on
to me. When I left college, thinking all was said and done, I
closed the books and got on with the here and now.

But from the time I first started to travel in Indonesia,
coincidence conspired so I would not forget Majapahit, as I saw
roads, restaurants, and hotels bearing its almost mythical name,
and many others besides with the names of its two principle
heroes, Gajah Mada and Hayam Wuruk.

Yet strangely, as I wandered the archipelago, I never so much
as tripped over a hint of the empire's ruins, like one does of
Borobudur. I admit I never went out of my way to find them, but
they hadn't really struck me as having an existence until after
the convention room door swung shut.

Stopping in my tracks, I spun on my heels and pushed the door
open, finding a seat at the back of the room. With growing
anticipation I waited until the speaker's presentation was
finished, so I could get directions to the empire of my long
finished historical studies.

The speaker reminded the audience that the Majapahit empire
had ruled with an iron fist and unified the entire archipelago.
Citing the achievements of this ancient nation-state, Indonesian
freedom fighters strove for six centuries to re-ignite the flames
of pan-Indonesian nationalism that had burned so brightly under
Majapahit's shining sun.

Yet the pan-Indonesian state was not first mooted by Majapahit
kings; that distinction goes to Kertanagara, the last king of the
Singosari dynasty, Majapahit's immediate predecessor.

Unfortunately, his place as an Indonesian nationalist hero was
denied by a pincer movement of historical circumstance. The
mighty Kublai Khan, supreme Mongol ruler, sent a force against
Singosari in 1292, in response to Kertanagara's rejection of the
Khan's friendship.

With the Mongol threat just over the blue line of the horizon,
and uncertainty in the realm, Kertanagara's brother-in-law
Jayakatwang laid siege to the palace, catching the king in the
middle of an orgy. A ritual prescribed by Singosari's religious
cult to prepare for battle, some scholars say.

Whatever the reasons for Kertanagara's dalliance in the face
of attack, Jayakatwang, having caught the king with his sarong
around his ankles, put him to death and assumed the throne.

When the Mongol forces landed on Java, they found the target
of their wrath already dispatched heavenward, and his usurper
making peaceful noises. Taking full advantage of the lull in
proceedings, Vijaya, Kertanagara's rightful heir, gained the ear
of the Mongol commander, seeking his assistance to take his
destined place on the throne, in exchange for recognition of
Kublai Khan's lordship over Java.

Betrayal

Vijaya, with the Mongol force behind him, easily defeated
Jayakatwang, then in a betrayal of Shakespearean proportions,
Vijaya fell upon his now trusting allies, hounding them back to
their ships and the Asian mainland. Erasing the memories of
Jayakatwang's short reign, Vijaya destroyed the old palace and
started afresh on the fertile plains of the Brantas river valley,
at a place he called Majapahit, after the bitter maja fruit that
grew in abundance there.

Equipped with directions to the town of Truwulen, on the river
banks of the lower Brantas, I set off on the morning after the
seminar, in search of the remains of Vijaya's empire. Leaving
Surabaya before sunrise I traveled the short section of the city
toll road, then emerged into the countryside. Darkness gave way
to pre-dawn light as cityscapes changed to rural scenes that have
probably remained the same since Majapahit was established at the
end of the 13th century.

Bullocks urged on by farmers plowed waterlogged fields, with
small nurseries of rice in their corners, holding the next crop,
waiting for the beasts of burden to finish their work.

Entering Truwulen, I turned off the highway, arriving at Candi
Wringin Lawang as dawn was breaking. The temple, one of the
finest remaining examples of the East Javan split gates, is sited
on a small patch of lawn, bordered by frangipani trees. Whether
their presence indicates that the temple is a memorial or if in
the restoration process they were planted in honor of the long
dead empire, I know not.

As birdsong greeted the day, the temple's red sandstone blazed
in the sunrise and not far off farmers, who were at work long
before I arrived, tilled the soil, raising a fecund smell. I
watched the sun rise slowly over Mt. Penanggungan, in the
distance. Its near-perfect volcanic cone gave rise to the
Majapahit myth that it was the holy Hindu mountain Mahameru,
transported from India by the god Vishnu at the dawn of time.

Described by archaeologists as the entrance to an important
complex of Majapahit buildings long since lost to the corrosive
effects of the steamy Javan environment, the date of construction
is thought to have been sometime during the reign of Hayam Wuruk,
the empire's most revered king.

Hayam Wuruk's reign has long been associated with the
achievements of Gajah Mada, his able prime minister. Like his
great-grandfather, Kertanagara, Hayam Wuruk much enjoyed the
pursuit of lusty religious rituals, leaving the governance of the
kingdom to others.

In reality this only continued the pattern Gajah Mada had
established, when he engineered the death of Majapahit's second
king, Jayanagara. Having risen under the king's guidance, from
personal bodyguard to trusted minister, Gajah Mada had waited
patiently to revenge Jayanagara's wanton enslavement of his wife.

In return for delivering the throne to Tribhuvana, the slain
monarch's older sister, Gajah Mada was made the empire's prime
minister in 1330, and remained so until his death in 1364, during
which time he was the real ruler of Majapahit.

As the power behind the throne Gajah Mada's determination was
ultimately responsible for the Majapahit empire's rise to
greatness. The beginning of this process is often cited by
scholars as his oath of allegiance in front of the council of
state in 1331, in which he vowed never to rest until Nusantara
was united.

Confidence

Walking around Candi Bajang Ratu, some kilometers southwest of
Candi Wringin Lawang, the temple's beauty spoke of the confidence
of its builders and the greatness of the empire. Ascending the
stairs of the tall slender structure to its singular doorway, I
looked out on fields of sugarcane and tried to imagine what had
stood before the temple all those centuries ago, for surely this
was just but one of many classical Majapahit tapered spires that
dotted the ancient capital. As I stood reflecting on the empire's
fall from grace, the funereal fragrance of frangipani carried to
me on the wind.

When Tribhuvana's son, Hayam Wuruk, came of age in 1350, she
abdicated in his favor, and Gajah Mada's hold on power was
secure. The 15th century Javanese Pararaton or Book of Kings,
records Majapahit's dependent states at the time of Hayam Wuruk's
coronation as being many and far-flung. Its authors recognized
that Gajah Mada was responsible, not the young king. All of Java,
Bali, Sumatra, Borneo, and parts of the Malay peninsula as well
as places as far removed as the Molaccas and northern Australia
were said to be under Majapahit control.

Whether these "dependent states" were really under the direct
rule of the empire by force of arms or were just vassal states
paying feudal tribute to a distant overlord may never be known.
What is sure is that Majapahit's domination of the region can be
directly attributed to Gajah Mada's political skill, for on his
death the council of state declared that there was no one with
the ability to take on his role, and distributed his official
duties between four people.

Of Hayam Wuruk after his prime minister's death not much is
known, though from a poem in his honor, Nagarakertagama, it can
be understood that he didn't suddenly develop an interest in the
affairs of state when the opportunity presented itself; he is
recorded as continuing to enjoy life to the full, "Truly King
Hayam Wuruk is a great potentate. He is without cares and
worries. He indulges in all pleasures. All beautiful maidens in
Janggala and Kediri are selected for him, as many as possible,
and ... are brought into his harem."

Candi Tikus, not too far down the road from Candi Bajang Ratu,
looked to me to be one Hayam Wuruk's favorite spots. These
bathing pools looked like the sort of place, the lusty king would
have brought his harem on a sunny day for a splash in the
refreshing waters. Almost as if to echo the past, the pools now
resounded with the croaking of mating frogs.

But it was Hayam Wuruk's lustiness that planted the seed of
the slow decline of the Majapahit empire. Having lived a long
life of royal indulgence, he died in 1389, leaving a daughter by
his queen, and a son by a favored concubine. Wanting to provide
for his children, he divided the empire between them, setting up
a destructive civil war that started not long after his demise.

Of Majapahit's last century not much is known, but the dynamic
spread of Islam is often said to have been the deciding factor in
its eventual collapse. Yet Islam was already widespread in the
empire by the time Hayam Wuruk came to the throne, as evidenced
by the many Islamic tombs dating from 1350, bearing the
inscription of Majapahit's shining sun, that dot the Truwulen
plains.

While the end of the empire may well have been due to more
commonplace causes, such as economic collapse and incompetent
leadership, if legend is to be believed, then it is to the tomb
of the princess of Champa, in central Truwulen, that we must look
to for some clue to Majapahit's final demise. For her legend has
it that she married the last monarch of the empire and converted
him to Islam. Though what bearing this may have on her husband's
terminal reign, the legend doesn't say.

With dark falling, I left the princess's tomb and headed back
to Surabaya, delighted because an ancient empire I'd thought of
as really only existing in dusty history books had come to life,
as I walked around its red sandstone temples under a blazing east
Javan sun, the result of a comment overheard in passing.