'Sanghyang Dancer'

By Mas Ruscitadewi

I quietly left my friends who were deeply absorbed in discussion. I did not feel at home among them when they were involved in a heated and noisy argument. I longed to go home, to be among the people I loved and respected.

Every time I go home, I am buoyed by the great spirit that seemed to be emanate from the trees flanking the road leading to my house. This burning spirit seemed to radiate from the glowing embers in the arena where the Sanghyang dance is performed, and I feel as if I am the dancer herself.

I hurried home lest I missed the opening of the Sanghyang Jaran dance performance. It was on Buda Kliwon that the dance would be staged. It is performed once in 15 days starting in December until some time before early April, when people observe the Nyepi rite. In these months, our elders believe the world and all its contents must be cleansed of all impurities through traditional and religious rites.

Many art forms like rejang, baris and sanghyang dances are performed as offerings. Any woman can dance rejang and any man, baris. However, only few select people may perform the Sanghyang Jaran dance and one of them was Bapa Rauh. He was a simple old man and an ordinary farmer.

All the way home, I thought of him. I remembered his deft and powerful movements, one of the reasons why many people believed he possessed magical powers. I also knew some people were envious of him and were conspiring to remove him from the traditional dance arena.

I often wondered whether he was, as some people suspected, a leak putih. Although I was born and bred in a village, I had my doubts about leak. When I asked Bapa Rauf about this, he simply smiled and gave no hint the question irked him.

I asked him again and again whether he thought it was some magical power that enabled him to dance the Sanghyang Jaran. He only smiled despite my repeated questions.

However, when I asked him whether it was some supernatural power that helped him, he smiled no more. Softly, he replied, "I find it very hard to answer your question. It is the most personal of experiences. To answer it may make me sound arrogant. Besides, what I will tell you cannot be verified," he said, getting up to leave.

Since then, however, I became much closer to him. When we were together, we could pick up virtually any topic to talk about.

I had long heard that the position of Bapa Rauh as a Sanghyang dancer was the object of others envy. Some people argued he was too old to be a dancer. As many as nine people had even nominated themselves to replace him. In the last meeting in the village temple, I had felt the seething anger and deep sadness in his words.

"You don't understand that to be able to dance Sanghyang you do not need a special magic power to become invincible. You need only purity of soul and sincerity. I have devoted myself to sesuunan. I dance this Sanghyang dance at the command of sesuunan. I will never quit unless there is a command from sesuunan.

"I also do not want to choose my replacement unless he or she is elected by sesuunan." His voice reverberated, silencing all the arguments and debates about this position. Everybody was quiet, heads bowed, guilty for forgetting sesuunan.

Afterwards, there were no more whispers about replacing him. He continued to dance. His movements were powerful, showing a strong character, and did not in the least indicate he was close to four scores in years.

Just like everybody else in my village, I did not want to miss even a single movement of Bapa Rauh's dance that day. I saw a lot of people waiting at the village temple. Everything necessary for the rite was in place. Glowing embers made of coconut shells and husks covered part of the yard of the temple. I saw Bapa Rauh in his dancing costume.

He was sitting in front of the pasepan. The opening song was heard, soft at first but then became increasingly louder. Bapa Rauh got up and the song to accompany the dance was sung. He began to move into a trance-like state, moving here and there to the rhythm of the song. He was dancing and running like a horse. He was no longer Bapa Rauh. He was the reincarnation of Sanghyang Jaran.

When the song came to the line of "Tepuk api dong ceburin (Look at the fire, jump), Sanghyang Jaran jumped into the glowing embers, shoveling them with his feet and eating some of them. This happened three times, in three climaxes. At the third climax, when the glowing embers had almost disappeared and were losing their heat and when the voice singing the song was softening, Sanghyang Jaran suddenly leapt up, flying over the spectators and over the temple walls.

He ran outside the temple area. At the outer yard, he was still dancing. People followed him, all wondering and feeling worried. No one dared say anything. When the people and the leader of the rite were forming a circle around him, the dance stopped. He was sitting, glued to the ground, in a meditative position. Everybody was looking at one another but nobody dared to come near him. I became restless. Suddenly I remembered my last conversation with him.

"Well, it's not that I do not want to be replaced. I live as a sanghyang dancer and will die as one," he said. Remembering this conversation, and ignoring the village elders and the leader of the rite, I rushed into the arena and embraced his body. It was beginning to feel cold in my arms. I felt his last breath, before finally the body became inert.

That day his body was cremated in a simple ceremony. We all believed he would go to heaven, especially because he died while dancing the Sanghyang dance.

Three days after his death, the village was ready to choose a new Sanghyang dancer. A special rite for this purpose was being prepared in the afternoon.

I came to the rite, hoping to be able to follow the whole process. It would be a nice story to tell my friends in the city, I thought.

Several villagers tried their luck, but none entered a state of trance. Several hours went by, but nobody was "called" to replace Bapa Rauh.

It was rather late in the afternoon. The glowing embers were ready in the middle of the temple yard. The singers and the cak dancers were ready. The rite leaders and village elders were looking at one another. They were trying to hide their disappointment and sorrow.

Suddenly, the chief rite leader whispered to the other leaders. A chain of whispers took place among them. Then two rite leaders approached me and took me to see the chief rite leader.

"Ning, we have agreed that you will replace Bapa Rauh," he said, very softly. I opened my eyes wide in surprise. "Me, why me?" I asked. "The chosen one must go into a state of trance but I cannot. I don't believe in mysticism," I argued. They were quiet. The chief leader looked at me long and hard. "You were not chosen by us, but by sesuunan," he said almost inaudibly.

I was quiet and my eyes felt wet. I tried not to cry.

"Sesuunan, where's sesuunan? How can I explain this to sesuunan? How can I refuse sesuunan? ... ", many other questions seemed caught in my throat. In the meantime, the song accompanying the dance began to be sung. I could not refuse when two rite leaders led me to put on the Sanghyang Jaran costume. I was still conscious when the song got louder and louder. When the words, " Tepuk api dong ceburin" were heard, I was almost unable to stop giggling.

"Fire, water, soil, well what's the difference?" I said, as if ridiculing myself. The song got louder and louder, tempting me to step into the fire. "Are you afraid of getting burned? Let's say you get burned, so what's wrong? It's only natural to get burned. So, what's wrong?" these thoughts flashed through my mind in quick succession. Finally, fully conscious, I leapt onto the embers, not caring whether or not I would get burned. So what's wrong?

There was thunderous applause. I did not care whether or not I got burned. To hell with it. Even if I were burned, what's wrong with that?

Glossary: * Sanghyang Jaran = a dance in which the dancer wears the costume of the God of Horse * Nyepi = Hindu Day of Seclusion * Rejang = a sacred dance to welcome gods, performed by women * Baris = a dance usually performed by men * Leak putih = a good person with supernatural powers * Sesuunan = God * pasepaan = place where incense is burned

Translated and abridged by Lie Hua