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.