West Java has its own Hindu monument

West Java has its own Hindu monument

By Michael Upton

JAKARTA (JP): If you're in the Bandung area and you've had
enough of hot springs, volcano craters and jeans shops, there's a
worthwhile sightseeing spot only an hour or so away that will
provide a complete contrast -- in fact it's unique in West Java.

On the road to Tasikmalaya, there's a village called Leles,
where the province's only remaining Hindu shrine (candi) stands.
So I took the toll road to the southeast of the city and followed
the Tasikmalaya signs through Cicalengka, a town I found rather
less exotic that its name suggests, crammed full of lime green
and yellow minibuses. Girls crossed the road in droves, jilbab
(Muslim headdress) fluttering in the wind.

Further on, the route straddled ridges and valleys formed no
doubt by ancient volcanic activity and subsequent erosion. The
road bucked and swerved constantly and I wondered whether
breakfast would still be with me at my destination. Then after
entering a deep cleft, I emerged above the next valley. Far below
there were glimpses of neat paddy fields glinting through air
newly washed by a shower of rain. Finally, the road bottomed out
on to a plain (alluvial? -- I wish I knew more geography) and
from there on it wasn't far to Leles.

After the level crossing, you need to take a left turn off the
main road. Not expecting anything as informative as a sign, I
took a likely looking track too soon, and had to stop for
directions. It's always a pleasure to make such enquiries in
Indonesia. I've found the villagers invariably friendly and
cheerful and their advice generally reliable, though distances
tend to be elastic. And there's the added satisfaction of seeing
the surprise on their faces when an orang bule (white man) gets
out of the car (it's considered rude just to wind down the
window) and their confusion when they hear a recognizable though
crude form of bahasa Indonesia issue from his lips.

In fact, the correct turn has the sign CANGKUANG painted in
large letters on the adjacent wall. (I'll resist the temptation
to say You can't miss it.) The narrow road was full of pony-and-
traps waiting to take visitors to the shrine for a few thousand
rupiah, and indeed that's the best way to get there. Sitting in a
car will cut you off from the ambient smells and flavor of the
place, and it's a hot walk to the candi if the sun's out, as it
was on the day I visited. The paddy fields were glowing gold,
part of a rich and fertile landscape dotted with men and women
from the village harvesting an abundant rice crop with sickles.
Further on, a lone farmer doggedly hacked at the moist black
earth, turning the stubble over to lie for a while before being
planted with the next crop. Ducks waddled noisily along the
ditches.

When you reach the site of the shrine, the lake setting alone
makes the trip worthwhile. The approach swings around an outcrop
and the visitor arrives at Situ Cangkuang (situ is Sundanese for
lake) partly covered with lilies, beyond which a tree-covered
island rises out of the water. Through the foliage, the stone
candi standing at the highest point of the island is just visible
from the shore. The scene could only have been improved by the
silencing of the tediously repetitive chimes of the ice-cream
vendor.

As a matter of fact, "island" is something of a misnomer as
the shrine is now linked to the shore by a swampy isthmus. It's
reached by taking a flat bamboo raft across the lake. (For
sweating cheapskates who have walked from the main road instead
of hiring a pony-and-trap, this is the chance to cool off and
save a further Rp 2,000 by wading across -- the lake is shallow
enough for that.) Each craft has a long central catwalk to keep
passengers' feet above the water lapping over the bamboo deck.
The inordinate length of the raft serves only to give the boatman
a chance to get his stride in as he works the pole.

The candi is surrounded by tall rain forest trees, but as you
approach, its fine silhouette of stone finials pierces the
skyline in a manner now reminiscent of Balinese architecture.

Under a pyramidal stone roof, a statue of the goddess Siva
sits in the chamber facing east -- or she would if some vandal
had not decapitated her. The date of the structure is not
certain, but it's possibly associated with the ancient Sundanese
kingdom of Galuh, which was centered near present day Ciamis to
the east.

Cemetery

Most of the island is a cemetery. But there are a few living
souls in residence, for below the shrine nestles a tiny hamlet of
six houses whose residents are said to abide by some rather
strange customs such as not entertaining visitors on Wednesdays
and never striking a gong. One suspects these are not nowadays
taken very seriously, but certainly the devotions at the grave of
Cangkuang's most distinguished resident were devout enough on the
day I visited. Located hard up against the south side of the
candi, Mbah Arif Muhammad, a soldier from the predominant 17th
century central Javanese kingdom of Mataram lies buried.

He found a good spot.