The Water Palace and The Memory of The Great Karangasem Empire

Many Balinese people refer to The Great Water Palace as Taman Sukasada, but over time it has begun to be known as Taman Ujung Karangasem. The park is a beautiful place to find peace and relax in East Bali and an incredible place to catch a glimpse of the Lombok Straight, but behind this parks' simple beauty lies a past steeped in creativity, power and understanding.

As the name suggests, Taman Ujung is located in the Ujung countryside at Tumbu Village in Karangasem about five kilometers from the city of Amlapura. In the year 1909, The Great Water Palace located at Taman Ujung was created by a man named I Gusti Bagus Jelantik, he was not just any man, he was educated, he was a statesman, and he was an architect. I Gusti Bagus Jelantik was a man of two names and he was a man of title. Known as Anak Agung Angkurah Ketut Karangasem, I Gusti Bagus Jelantik was the King of this regency known as Karangasem.

At one stage, this park spread across four hundred hectares of land, but slowly that once large number has decreased to approximately ten hectares in size. It is thought that the design for the palace was the result of a vision, that I Gusti Bagus Jelantik dreamt of designing a beautiful house surrounded by water, and that once he had this idea, he set to work gathering together a collection of architects including a Chinese architect named Loto Ang and the Dutch architect Van Den Hentz, along with many other Balinese architects or Undagis to help him develop the concept of his vision.

Taman Ujung lies between the mountains and the sea. Mount Lempuyang is on the north-east side, Mount Agung is on the west side and the Lombok Strait is directly east. This is an important factor that is respected not only within Bali but also across the whole of Indonesia. From the main gate it is possible to see how the pools dominate the palace and how the bridges connect the palace to every side of the pool. This design concept surrounds the idea that our life on the land revolves around water and that it is because the land meets with the sea that the luxurious life that we lead on earth was created. Through the design of Taman Ujung and The Great Water Palace, I Gusti Bagus Jelantik has shown respect and understanding of this by realising this concept within the design of the four pools in Taman Ujung.

The empire is famous for respecting the creation of art and culture within the regency, which is reflected in both the sculptures that are carved around the building and each and every statue that surrounds the park. This artistic contribution remains an invaluable tribute to the history of Karangasem.

But there is more to the history of this park than just the architectural design of the Water Palace. Somewhere toward the north side of the park exists a pool that was considered very secret. It was known as Di Dirah and was utilised during the period of King I Gusti Gede Putu and his brother who was called I Gede Oka. The round pool functioned as a place of exile for a man who was alleged to run the world of Black Magic within the empire.

During the time before 1908, this Karangasem Regency was a territorial empire. During the 17th Century the Bali Kuna authority was granted permission by the Klungkung Empire to establish themselves in Karangasem, and thus the mighty Empire was born under the governance of I Dewa Karangamla. The Karangamla dynasty didn't survive all that long and the Batanjeruk Dynasty soon took over the Karangasem Empire's governance.

I Dewa Karangamla moved his chess board pieces forward, by taking the widow of Patih Agung Batanjeruk as his wife when her husband failed to pursue the journey that was necessary to be taken by a king of the Gelgel Empire called Dalem Waturenggong. I Dewa Karangamla made a promise to the widow of Patih Agung Batanjeruk that he would givie over his authority to his step child whose name was I Gusti Oka. When finally I Dewa Karangamla died, as promised, the authority over the empire moved back into the hands of the Batanjeruk Dynasty which was led by I Gusti Oka as its king.

This location was developed as if it were a summerhouse or recreation palace, for the royal family to spend time relaxing and enjoying themselves. However, the time eventually came for the park to be opened to the public as part of an agreement between the descendants of the Karangasem Kingdom, the government and the International Monetary Fund who loaned money to Indonesia to help with restoration and ongoing maintenance of Taman Ujung some ten or fifteen years ago. The property rights was never transferred and to this day, the park ownership continues to remain in the hands of the desandants of the Karangasem ruling family.

Although the concept of the Water Palace and recreation park had been finalised by the year 1921, the project was not completed in full until August 6th, 1937. The Great Water Palace was the first of several ventures of similar style undertaken by this talented king. Two such parks, known as Mayura and also Narmada park were built in West Lombok and have come to be a symbol of brotherhood, a historical connection between the regency of Karangasem and the area of Western Lombok where the two parks were developed.

If you are looking for an interesting destination to explore when travelling through East Bali, then Taman Ujung is an incredible place to discover. It is a park steeped in history, a place where you can wander around and find peace within yourself, and it is a place where you can stare in awe at the creative inspiration that was the vision of the great king of Karangasem.

Silence and Demons of the Balinese New Year-Nyepi

In many more ways than one Bali is the exact opposite of the West; While Westerners open the New Year in revelry, the Balinese open their own New Year in silence. This is Nyepi day, the Balinese day of Silence, which begins on the day, following the dark moon of the spring equinox, and opens a new year of the Saka Hindu. This year Nyepi falls on March 26th.

On Nyepi day proper, which starts with sunrise, don't expect to be able to do very much at all. You will have to stay within the grounds of your resort. No traffic is allowed, not only cars and motorbikes, but also people, who have to stay in their individual houses and are not permitted to leave for anything short of an absolute emergency (panic not anyone in need of medical attention – the hospitals are fully operational during Nyepi).

Light is kept to a minimum, radios and televisions are tuned down, and no one works, of course. Even lovemaking, this ultimate activity of all leisure-timers, is not supposed to take place, nor even attempted during Nyepi. A whole day simply filled with the barking of Bali's wild dogs, the shrill of insects and simply a long, long period of uninterrupted quiet. A welcome day of serenity, of calm and an opportunity for the island and it's people to rest.

Nyepi is a religious event. Bali is a Hindu society, one that believes in the karmapala principle, according to which the dynamics of life, and of Man's individual fate, is set in motion by 'action'. Man is in the midst of a Samsara cycle of incarnations, each of which is determined by the quality of his actions (karma) in his existence.  His 'ideal' is thus to put the system to rest, to control one's actions, and thus to subdue one's inner demons. Only in such a way can Man hope to achieve 'deliverance' from his cycles of life (moksa) and eventually merge with the Oneness of the Void, the Ultimate Silence of Sunya.

The Day of Silence is a symbolic replay of these philosophical principles. At the beginning of the year, the world is 'clean'. It has been cleansed in the previous days. All the effigies of the gods from all the village temples have been taken to the sea or to the river in long and colourful ceremonies. There they have been bathed by the Neptunus of Balinese lore, the god Baruna, before being taken back to residence in their shrines of origin. On the eve of Nyepi all villages also hold a large ceremony of exorcism at the main village crossroad, by lore the meeting place of the demons.

There at the crossroads a Siwa priest addresses the gods, a Buddha priest, the middle world and a Sengguhu priest the netherworld. At night the demons of the Bali world are let loose on the roads in a carnival of fantastically crafted monsters - the Ogoh-Ogohs.

Thus, on the day of Silence, the world is clean and everything starts anew, Man showing his symbolic control over himself and the 'force' of the world.  Hence the mandatory religious prohibitions of mati lelangon (no pleasure), mati lelungan (no traffic), mati geni (no fire or light) and mati pekaryan meaning that nobody may undertake any work, even Ngurah Rai airport remains closed for business for one day of the year.

There is more than mere religion, though, to Nyepi. Twenty years ago, there was still fun to it. Traffic was discouraged, but there were almost no cars anyway, and people would walk freely around, visit friends and the like. But now, Nyepi has become a demonstration of identity. Faced with urbanization, large-scale migration of non-Balinese to the island and a withering of its agrarian basis, not to mention the millions of tourists visiting the island, the Balinese use Nyepi to remind all those visiting guests of who exactly is ruling the land.

And they do it so gently, as with almost everything Balinese, in the most peaceful manner. Think of the Balinese demons. Which other people in the world take its demons in the streets in a non-political carnival, as the Balinese do in the Ngrupuk cavalcade of the night preceding Nyepi?

This cavalcade of demons is as relaxed as Nyepi proper is serious. The parade is held all over Bali, but the most fantastic one is undoubtedly that of Denpasar. There all the banjar (ruling village heads) neighborhood participants and hundreds of youth associations make their own Ogoh-Ogoh monsters. Banjar neighborhoods and youth associations, who raise a special 'tax' for the purchase of the needed glue, bamboo and cowhide, make the Ogoh-Ogoh. Some work at it for weeks on end and spend millions of Rupiah on their creations, hoping to have the most beautiful effigy of the village or of the entire neighborhood.

Some are giants from the classical Balinese lore, while others are guitarists, bikers or even AIDS microbes. All with fangs, bulging eyes and scary hair. Thus, when they all come out at sunset, illuminated by torches and with the accompaniment of the most demonic gamelan music (bleganjur) of the Balinese repertoire, Denpasar becomes another, gentler Rio Den Janeiro. Heading for Gaja Mada street and the Puputan square, they surge suddenly by the hundreds, more 'horrible' the ones than the others, each carried on the shoulder of four to thirty youths, jerking this way or that way so as to give the impression of a dance, or suddenly turning in a circle, much to the fascination of the spectators.

This is not a small procession, it lasts for three to four hours, as if Bali has an inexhaustible pool of demons. All the Ogoh-Ogohs eventually head for the Puputan square, where they are burned. The world is then cleansed and ready for the day of Silence, a day without demons.

Today's Ngrupuk festival has lost some of its symbolic religious meaning. Youth see it as an occasion for merriment and creativity, travel agents as a business opportunity, Banjars and youth associations as a means to assert their 'superiority'. Fights sometimes erupt with politics never far beneath the surface. For this reason the present tendency is toward the control of the Ngrupuk festival and its demons.

Let's us hope, though, that the Balinese demons will always remain as gentle as they have throughout the centuries and that the world at large can be inspired by Nyepi, a very sacred and inspirational day of peace.

Pura Luhur Uluwatu

At the western most tip of Bukit Peninsula (farther south from Jimbaran), there is one of Bali's nine important 'Kayangan Jagat' temples (believed to protect the island through their intricate positioning). The location is dramatic, rocky precipices drop almost 100 metres to the Indian ocean, and the temple balances on a narrow promontory's edge that offers one of the best sunset views on the island above dramatic crashing white surf. It was built in the 11th century to worship the holy priest, Empu Kuturan, who came to Bali bringing religious law and the formation of 'Desa Adat' – traditional villages. The temple is also in honour to the doctrine of the holy man, Dang Hyang Nirartha, who came to Bali at the later date of 1550. He spent his last day in the world at the temple to reach 'moksa or ngeluhur' (enlightenment) which then lent its name to the temple's present name of Luhur Uluwatu.

Candi Bentar
The 'candi bentar', or split entrance gate, has carved fl anked sides in the shape of wings. The 'jaba tengah', or second courtyard, is guarded by statues of Ganesha, the man-bodied, elephant-headed god. He is believed to be the remover of obstacles and leads into 'jeroan' – or the innermost sanctuary – that can only be accessed to those who are praying. The frangipani blossoms that surround the temple are home to some friendly but mischievous monkeys, that seem to be as much of an attraction as the temple to the many foreign visitors, that come by the coach load around sunset time.

Kecak Dance
Post-sunset hails a daily 'kecak dance' that is impressive and a must-see for those who have not yet been privy to this exhilarating trance performance that emulates the sound of the chattering monkeys of Pura Luhur Uluwatu Temple

Bali Aga and the Ancient Ceremony

The Pura Tuluk Biyu, an ancient temple perched spectacularly on the rim of the Batur Crater in Kintamani, was the venue of an equally spectacular round of ceremonies called the Madewasraya, held once every five years to maintain peace and harmony through prayer and dance. As with most Balinese ceremonies, foreigners were a highly visible presence, whether long-term residents in full ceremonial dress, or tourists wearing cheap sarungs purchased from a street hawker outside the temple. But this ceremony offered a novel sight: Indonesian-speaking foreigners wearing badges identifying them as organization staff members. On seeing this, one Balinese visitor from Denpasar remarked, with undisguised contempt, "this is just what you would expect from the Bali Aga."

Literally meaning "Mountain Balinese," but in common usage taking on a meaning closer to "hillbillies," the term "Bali Aga" is used to describe the inhabitants of around a hundred villages, most — but not all — located in the central highlands. Tourist guidebooks generally describe the Bali Aga as "hostile, scruffy hustlers" who make life miserable for visitors trying to enjoy the refreshing climate of Lake Batur. Stories abound of boatmen renegotiating the charter fee in the middle of the lake, of tourists returning to the car park to find their spark plugs removed and held for ransom, and of assaults on foreigners who attempt to climb Mount Batur without an overpriced local guide. The heartland Balinese tend to hold an equally dim view, regarding their mountain-dwelling fellows as an "uncultured" people practicing "primitive" rituals such as "sky-burials," where a corpse is left to decompose on the open ground.

Those who spend more than few hours among the Bali Aga soon discover that nothing could be further from the truth. A guest in a highland home will experience kindness and generosity exceptional even on an island having a global reputation for heartfelt hospitality. Australian anthropologist Thomas Reuter, who lived among the highland Balinese for several years researching his doctoral thesis, maintains that Bali supported a flourishing Hindu culture long before the large-scale conversion to Islam undermined the power of the Hindu courts and sent the nobles, priests, and artisans of neighboring Java eastward in search of greener rice fields. Reuter asserts that the Bali Aga, far from being a "lesser breed" unable to assimilate into the high civilization of the Javanese newcomers, actually constituted a sophisticated society whose members saw no advantage in adopting effete Javanese court culture, as did their lowland brethren. The inhabitants of these communities refer to themselves as the "Bali Mula," the original Balinese, noting that the first records in the region date from 112 AD, over a millennium before the arrival of the Javanese Hindus.

Though often held in thinly disguised contempt, the Bali Mula fill an important niche role in Balinese society. The title of Reuter's book about his experiences, Custodians of the Sacred Mountains, reflects that some of the holiest locations and temples in Bali are located in the domain of the Bali Mula. Unfortunately, the position of most Bali Mula communities on the fringes of Bali's tourist-driven economy means that available funds are seldom sufficient for maintenance of these holy sites, or to mount the lavish ceremonies mandated by the Bali Hindu religion.
The Bali Mula feel that this point was demonstrated in 2001, when the custodians of the Tuluk Biyu temple did not have the funds to mount the Madewasraya ceremony, whose five-day cycle fell during that year. Many believe that the omission of this ceremony precipitated the first Bali Bomb and subsequent misfortunes. This year, however, when the Madewasraya was again due, help came from an unsuspected quarter. A foreigner with a keen interest in Bali Hinduism visited Tuluk Bayu, saw the temple's state of disrepair and offered his assistance. The subsequent cooperation between the people of Kintamani and foreign donors represented a partnership between the "Bali Aga" and another of Bali's many tribes, the "Bule Aga." This half-jocular term refers to resident foreigners whose have lived more-or-less permanently in Bali for decades, and are knowledgeable about Balinese society, religion and culture, and often converts to Bali Hinduism. Many Bule Aga have been pioneers in fields such as designing and exporting custom jewelry and handicrafts. Others have written the words and taken the photos that have brought the charms of Bali to the world's coffee tables. While some, admittedly, are aging hippies scraping by in a distorted market where even minimal artistic or professional skills can ensure survival, most of the Bule Aga have made significant contributions to the development of their adoptive home.

The future Bule Aga, arriving as young hippies or surfers in the late 1960s, found themselves living in a subsistence economy where the essentials of life were either grown, made, or bartered for. But industrial development and the growing tourist economy were creating a demand for commercial goods and services requiring cash. After a few unsuccessful attempts to pay the electricity bill with a couple of live roosters, Balinese looked to the growing numbers of foreigners living in
their midst for the cash they needed. Through his or her ability to conjure fistfuls of rupiah on demand, a resident foreigner who took care to observe relevant social etiquette and to show respect for religious and cultural traditions assumed a respected position in the community as a person of nominally low status who nonetheless provides an essential service -- like, for example, a blacksmith.

A new generation of Balinese possessing the ability – albeit to varying degrees -- to acquire and manage money has made the role of Bule Aga as "cash cows" somewhat redundant. But their contribution to the reconstruction of Tuluk Biyu and underwriting the nineteen day Madewasraya ceremony harked back to the days when many Bule Aga were, indeed, "blessed providers of rupiah." Canvassing the expatriate community, including a well-publicized fundraiser at a suburban sports club, raised almost 60 million. Though this constituted only a small fraction of the combined Rp.900 million budget for the ceremony and temple reconstruction — the bulk coming from regional governments, Indonesian businesses and raffle ticket sales — the action has caused an inordinate amount of controversy.

A full-page ad in the local expatriate community newspaper publicizing the fundraiser, and the highly visible presence of foreigners with "committee member" badges at the ceremony, raised considerable ire. Some local commentators fretted that the next logical step would advertising banners to be erected during temple ceremonies by the sponsoring companies.
These tirades were eerily reminiscent of warnings in the 1930s that Balinese dancing for tourists in hotels presaged the demise of the island's unique culture. The Balinese, of course, neatly accommodated the needs of both deities and tourists by declaring that the same dance could be either worshipful or entertaining depending on the venue and context. The success of the Madewasraya ceremony – following the concluding rituals dozens of participants fell into trance, believed to be a clear indication that the gods have been appeased – is an encouraging sign that the over-enthusiastic contributions by foreigners did not detract from the essential sacredness of the ceremony. It did demonstrate the two communities on the periphery of heartland Bali, the Bali Aga and the Bule Aga, can cooperate for the benefit of their respective ancestral and adoptive homes.

What your opinion.....?

Village Temples

Balinese society is complex and multifarious, being divided by social hierarchies based on caste, occupation and descent. In the not so distant past, the life of the ordinary man, or commoner, was largely restricted to his village and its surrounding rice fields, while at a supra-village level there existed an upper crust of priest, noblemen and princes, organised into a ruling elite. These divisions are still in evidence today-though the plight of the common man is far less onerous –but they are mediated by the village temple system and the cycle of festivals associated with them, which periodically draw these diverse groups together as common participants in a shared ritual undertaking.

The Balinese Village

The Balinese Village is referred to by the term desa, which describes both the settlement and its immediate environs as a physical entity, and at the same time refers to a religious community, mad up of local householders and their families, who are responsible for maintaining the ritual purity and spiritual well-being of the village and its surrounding lands. The latter is achieved by observing the local customary laws (desa adat) and by participation in the cycle of religious ceremonies that take place at the village temples. The actual village itself, as a collection of house compounds, is subdivided into neighbourhoods, or wards (banjar), each of which have their own local temple (pura pamasakan). Every banjar has specific ritual duties to fulfill, not only in relation to its own neighbourhood temple, but also to the main village temples. Banjar members also act together in secular matters such as the maintenance of roads and the policing of the neighbourhood.

Pura Desa

Pura Desa are ideally placed in an auspicious location at the centre of the village-a position which is both towards the mountain (kaja) ad to the east (kangin). A sacred banyan tree is usually planted beside the entrance which often grows to enormous proportions, providing a shady centre at the heart of the community. A pavilion (wantilan) for cockfights is also located nearby the sacrificial shedding of blood (caru) plays a crucial role in Balinese rituals and contest are permitted on the occasion of a temple festival, though gambling is strictly prohibited, in theory at least, by the Indonesian government.

Village assemblies to discuss both ritual and secular matters are held every month, either at the pura desa itself or else at the village assembly hall (bale agung) nearby. One of the principal responsibilities of the village assembly is the organization of the anniversary celebrations (odalan) for each of the village temples. The latter fall every 210 days, according to the sacred wuku calendar, and are intended to ritually cleanse the village territory and purify the members of the temple congregation. Everyone in the villages is involved in the preparation of offerings and the organization of various entertainments such as gamelan recitals and shadow puppet performances which are held for the enjoyment of the gods and mortals alike.

Source : Balinese Temples Book

Balinese music, dance, and traditional entertainment part 2

Baris
A dance of war, the Baris is strong and masculine, yet also displays strong sensitivity in the myriad of moods and expressions displayed within the dance. The Baris Gede, a sacred dance usually only performed during ceremonies, consist of ten or more elegantly dressed warriors with distinctive triangular white headdresses and bearing weapons, either spears, spiked shields or swords. They dance in line, posing aggressively before each other in simulated battles.

Kecak
Out of the male chorus chant, which produces the trance of the Sanghyang ceremony, has developed a new dance; the Kecak, Usually over 100 men participate. Providing their own orchestration with a counter pattern of vocal sounds that complement their rhythmical movement, creating a living circular stage for the reenactment of an excerpt from the Ramayana story by flickering torchlight.

Legong Keraton
Perhaps the most exquisite of Balinese dances is the classic Legong, a dance traditionally performed as entertainment for the King. Young girls wrapped from head to ankle in hand-painted gold brocades, with glittering gold mirrored head-dresses topped with trembling frangipani flowers, glide with delicate movements which portray the ancient story of King Lasem and his unsuccessful love suite. The dancers seem to be the essence of all that is feminine and beautiful.

Sanghyang
Sanghyang traces dance have only in recent years become publicly performed as entertainment. Their essential function is religious, an exorcism of the spirits that is supposed to promote peace and health within the village. Specially selected boys and girls are “Sung” into a trance by a group of women who sing the special repetitive Sanghyang Dedari, the dance of the angles. The tiny girls who have never danced before are able to give accomplished performances of the Legong. In the Sanghyang Jaran, the horse dance, the men in a trance snort and canter unflinchingly over red hot coals.

Topeng
The Topeng, or mask dance is one of the most demanding of dramatic talents requiring the actor’s skill and adaptability of mannerism and behavior to suit each picturesque mask. Topeng stories are tales combined from ancient literature and local history, blended with a contemporary interpretation personal to each actor. The characters are caricatures of all that is human, both virtue, folly, and slapstick comedy is the key to the drama.

Other Dances:
There are numerous other forms of Balinese dance icluding; Tekekan, Leko & Janger, Bimanyu, Gabor, Mahabrata the Epic, Raja Pala, Calonarang, Ramayana, Frog Dance, Parwa Ramayana, Joget, Janger, Genjekan and Debus.




Shadow Puppet Show
Known as Wayang Kulit, these shows are an important part of traditional Balinese life. They convey modern ideals and current news and are instrumental in holding on to the past and teaching the young about important aspects of their lives to come. Many of the stories told in the form of Wayang Kulit are from Hindu epics such as the Ramayana. In the shows flat puppets made of stiff leather are manipulated behind a thin white screen that is back lit with an oil lamp. The action of the puppets are accented by voices that correspond with the character and an orchestra of gamelan.

Balinese music, dance, and traditional entertainment

In Bali no temple festival or ceremony is complete without entertainment for the gods, attending guests and local people. Temple anniversaries are occasions for all night dramatic and dance performances, with different types entertainment on each consecutive night, sometimes lasting until morning. The basic accompaniment to any such performance is provided by the local gamelan orchestra, a group of brass instruments, metal phones, tuned gongs, cymbals and hand drums, the village generally owns the instruments, as they are extremely expensive and they are stored at the village Banjar meeting hall and taken great pride in. No Balinese music has been written down or recorded until recent years. It has been passed down from generation to generation purely by memory. Each particular dance and dramatic performance has its own special combination of instruments to suit, melodious bamboo flutes, reedy two-stringed rebab violins and twanging Jew's harp like gengong are all used to provide their own special effects.

Arja and Drama Gong

A performance of Arja Balinese Folk Opera can hold an entire village engrossed from late evening until nearly sunrise. Love stories drawn from the classics of the ancient kingdoms of Java are reenacted with all the tragic, comic and romantic ingredients guaranteed to appeal. The royal characters move in a slow stylized dance and sing and talk in a high falsetto using high Balinese, which is translated into common language by the comedians. Arja has lost some of its popularity in recent years in favor of the Drama Gong, which has less music and dance and therefore is much more easily understood by the masses.

Barong and Rangda

The endless metaphysical battle between good and evil is symbolically reenacted time and time again by two weird characters, Barong and Rangda, who by their very performance reinforce the magic power of the village and restore the balance between good and evil. The Barong, representative of the right, white magic and the good forces of nature is a strange long swaybak creature that takes two strong men to animate. His adversary Rangda is Queen of the Witches, an ugly creature with long nails, tongue and fangs. The dual strength of their magic power is enough to drive men crazy as they clash. The Barong’s followers attack the terrible witch with their Kris daggers, only to find their weapons turned black against themselves by an evil spell. However the good is not to be overwhelmed, the Barong’s white magic is strong enough to protect his crazed followers from harm.

What's on cremation

Cremation of the dead (pengabenan pelebon), the ceremony pitra yadna is perhaps the most important and often the most colorful, ritual in Balinese religion. A cremation is necessary for the soul of the deceased for the passage into heaven and reincarnation and is liberation from material attachments. Due to the immense, cost and the complicated preparations necessary, cremations often occur long after the death of the person. Usually, group cremations are held in order to share the expense and the labor involved. Between death and cremation the body is buried in the cemetery, or in the case of a wealthy person whose family can arrange a cremation more quickly, the body lies in state in the family compound. During this time the soul of the deceased is thought to be agitated, longing for release. An auspicious day for the cremation is chosen by a Pedanda, or priest, after consulting the Balinese calendar. Preparations begin long before the appointed day, each family builds a large tower of bamboo and paper, extravagantly painted according to the caste and wealth of the deceased, on a large bamboo platform. A magnificent, brightly colored, life size bull, winged lion, or elephant creature is also constructed of Kapok wood, bamboo and cloth or colored papers that is used to hold the body for cremation. On the morning of the cremation relatives and friends of the deceased visit the house to pay their last respects, and are richly entertained and fed by the family. At midday the body is taken from the house, placed in the tower and carried with the bull, to the dead man’s Cemetery. This becomes a loud noisy, boisterous procession, designed to confuse the soul of the deceased so that it will loose its way and not be able to return to the family compound, where it could cause mischief.

At the cremation ground the body is put into the belly of the creature. A priest officiates at the last rites, and then the fires are lit. After burning the ashes are gathered and taken to the sea or the local river where they are thrown to the wind. This represents the cleansing and disposal of the material body, and is cause for singing and laughter in the care of the soul in the family compound. After a sojourn in heaven the soul is believed to be reborn. The status of the reborn soul relates to the person’s karma, or his conduct in previous lives. In general the Balinese feel that the soul is reborn within the same circle of death and rebirth, this explains the Balinese reference for their ancestors. Every Balinese knows that the other world must be respected and cared for if he is return to his beloved island of Bali.

The village of Trunyan on Danau Batur (lake Batur) is the only village on Bali where bodies are not cremated, instead they are buried in a cemetery.

Artistic Ubud

Lempad was truly a twentieth-century Renaissance man: although he is best known for his magnificent works on paper, in the Puri Lukisan Museum and the Neka Art Museum, he was active in all the plastic arts, including sculpture and architecture. Lempad was born in the village of Bedulu, Gianyar, in the early 1860s. In the late nineteenth century, he came with his father to live in Ubud, where he stayed for the rest of his very long life. Most of the principal monuments of central Ubud, including the impressive, soaring temple gates which symbolize the city for many visitors, were designed by Lempad. He was a versatile and prolific sculptor, emphasizing monumentality of form over ornamentation, working in both wood and stone.When he was in his sixties, Lempad began applying the bold, volume-defining lines of his three-dimensional works to his drawings on paper. Later, he enlivened his drawings with gold and red pigment, to highlight features such as the mystical flames and contours of costume that distinguish his rendering of wayang-style figures. One of the greatest treasures of the Neka Art Museum is a series of ten drawings by Lempad illustrating the Brayut folk tale, which was originally in the collection of his friend Walter Spies, who entrusted them to a friend in Batavia (the old name for Jakarta) when he was arrested. In 1984, the drawings were presented to the Neka Art Museum, where they are on permanent display.

Lempad's death, in 1978, was a solemn moment of transition for Ubud and all Bali. Legend has it that the great man chose his time of dying, at the age of at least 116, selecting the most auspicious day of the Balinese calendar for his passing. He called his family and friends to his side and asked them to bathe him and dress him in white; after expressing his last wishes and saying farewell, he gently expired. He left behind an overwhelming legacy, reflected in the work of his many students and followers, including such fine artists as Ida Bagus Made Poleng, Tjkorde Oka Gambir, Anak Agung Sobrat, and Anak Gede Mregeng. Twenty years ago, it was probably true to say that the influence of Spies, Bonnet, and other Western artists might was being exaggerated; but even taking into account the defining significance of Balinese attitudes toward life and landscape in the island's art, as epitomized in the life and work of Lempad, it is nonetheless true to say that Balinese painting, as a school of art, was radically transformed by the thought and example of the foreign visitors.

Spies and Bonnet tried not to influence their Balinese students – Bonnet, it is said, concealed his own work before his students came to his studio for class. Nonetheless, Balinese artists absorbed the European influence with amazing rapidity, and soon evolved a panoply of new styles, complex and highly original. By the time World War Two came to Indonesia, the Pita Maha association and the Western artists involved with it had declined rapidly.
The story of Walter Spies after the outbreak of war is a sad one. The Dutch authorities, scandalized at what they regarded as a general moral laxity in Ubud, and as part of a crackdown on homosexuals throughout the colony, arrested Spies on New Year's Eve, 1938, for "indecent behavior" with a minor boy. According to his biographer, Hans Rhodius, the Balinese were shocked and puzzled by the arrest, and brought Spies's favorite gamelan to play for him outside the window of his jail cell. The boy's father told the trial judge, "He is our best friend, and it was an honor for my son to be in his company. If both are in agreement, why fuss?" Spies was released from prison in September of 1939. While war was breaking out in Europe, he threw himself into the study of insects and marine life, turning out some exquisitely observed gouaches of his specimens. After Germany invaded Holland, the following year, all German citizens living in the Dutch East Indies were arrested. Spies, the last German on Bali, was sent to a prison in Sumatra. There he continued painting and organized an orchestra, which he conducted in performances of music by Rachmaninoff and other European composers. In 1942, fearful of a Japanese attack, the Dutch authorities put their German captives on a ship for transport to Ceylon. The day after it embarked, the vessel was hit by a Japanese bomb. The Dutch crew abandoned the sinking ship, and left their prisoners to drown, slowly and horribly.

What on Puputan Badung?

"After the artillery fire stopped, the prince went there with his followers, women and children totalling around one hundred people, and there, hidden from our view, they stabbed each other with kris. We found them together in a heap, the prince buried under the bodies of his faithful followers, as if to show that they wanted to protect him, even in death. And the most beautiful young women we had seen in Bali lay lifeless next to their children." From a Dutch eyewitness report.
September marks the 100th anniversary of the Badung Puputan – the culmination of a series of confrontations between the Dutch and the Balinese Rajahs. As the Dutch soldiers waited outside the palace gates of Badung (in what is now Denpasar) four bearers brought out the Rajah on a jewelled palanquin, followed by his retinue of wives and children and retainers. They were dressed in white wearing their finest kris and jewels. They set him down, 100 metres from the Dutch and at a signal from the Rajah, a priest set a dagger into his heart. His retinue followed suite, each stabbing themselves and falling to the ground. The stunned Dutch soldiers fired into the ranks as more people poured out from the palace. Later they ransacked the bodies and razed the palace. Somewhere between 600 and 2000 people died that day. While it signified the end of a kingdom, for the Balinese rajahs, surrender was not an option and to live under Dutch rule was unthinkable.
Although in the country of the former colonial rulers of the Netherlands, this tragic historical event has long been forgotten, in Bali, however, it is well remembered and has been commemorated every year since 1973.
A series of events led up to the Puputan which was the culmination of the Dutch struggle to expand their power in Bali. Actually, the colonial government had been in North Bali since the mid nineteenth century, but they could not take full control of the island until they had conquered the last two kingdoms of South Bali which happened through bloody war in 1906 and 1908 respectively. These clashes both ended with Puputan in both Badung and Klungkung.
Even though the wars were predictable, what is interesting, especially for the Puputan Badung, is how it evolved and how the Rajahand his people came to the war. A few years before the war, the Dutch had launched diplomatic efforts against East and South Bali's kingdoms in order to gain political control over the whole island. Some kings or rajas like Karangasem and Gianyar reactive positively and co-operated willingly while the Rajahs of Bangli and Badung reacted against their would be rulers. From the early 1900s, the Raja of Bangli created more problems for the Dutch than his colleague in Badung. Subak (irrigation-water) disputes and land-border disagreements generated by the Rajah-backed people of Bangli, caused significant social and political instability on the island, especially in South Bali, which disturbed the colonial government's plans for control.
When the Dutch-flagged Chinese cargo-ship Sri Kumala was wrecked off Sanur in 1904 in Sanur beach, the Dutch saw their chance to push for control and the focus shifted from Bangli to Badung. It all began with the report of the ship's owner who said that the ship was confiscated by the people of Sanur, Badung. Based on the report, the colonial government in North Bali ordered the King to pay a hefty fine. The King of Badung, Tjokorda Made Denpasar denied that the confiscation took place, arguing that the people on the beach helped the ship crew ashore and rescue goods from the ship. Regardless of what really happened, the tension between the King and the Dutch rose until a military intervention became inevitable.
The Badung Rajah was encouraged by his advisers to pay the fine to avoid unnecessary conflict. But the Rajah, a great author of classical Balinese literature, refused the advice, insisting that his beloved people had done nothing wrong. He argued it was not a matter of money or fine to be paid, but a point of honour against the Dutch.
Following diplomatic failure, the Dutch imposed a blockade on the Badung territory, forbidding trade with the other Bali kingdoms in an attempt to suppress the Rajah's power. This tactic caused the Rajah to maintain his position for almost two years (since 1904) leading to the fullscale military attack in September 1906.
Dutch troops landed in Sanur bristling with soldiers and weapons. Denpasar was attacked from the East by cannonfire, while thousand of the Rajah's supporters confronted them with the traditional weapons of kris and bamboo spears. The Rajah and his followers held a last prayer to show their commitment to guarding their homeland. During the prayer, the followers were blessed and given tirta pangentas, holy water that is usually sprinkled over a cremated body to release his/her spirit from the body. This holy water symbolises the determination of the followers to die, so that when they die in the war there is no need for more holy water. The rajahs troops were no match for the Dutch. Their kris and bamboo spears had little effect against cannon fire and guns.
The peak of the war took place on September 20th, the day when the Badung Raja was killed, followed by thousand of his people. The Dutch sources tend to downplay the total number of victims, Balinese sources mention higher, and the estimated number of deaths is somewhere between 600 and 2000. The Dutch military chief, General Rost van Tonningen in his brief speech prior to the return of his army to Tanjung Priok (Jakarta), said how few the victims were from both sides. He added that the victims were regretted.
The annual commemoration is marked by a flag raising ceremony and cultural performance at Puputan Badung Park, in Denpasar, where the war took place a century ago. School students around Denpasar municipality are also invited to join with a decorated bicycle carnival. Sign boards or posters that carry themes on the importance of 'puputan spirit' are placed around the town. Prior to the anniversary, a dance or Balinese gamelan orchestra of the baleganjur genre is held to bring the celebration alive. The winner is then invited to the evening performance at Puputan Badung Park. A dance drama fragment that carries the theme of the war is performed. The memory of the past and the spirit of bravery is kept alive in the public memory.
The last Puputan happened two years later in Klungkung when the Rajah objected to the Dutch attempt to impose an opium monopoly. The Klungkung rajah struck his kris into the ground, expecting a chasm to appear and swallow his enemies, following an ancient prophesy. It didn't happen. A bullet killed him and his six wives knelt by him, each driving kris into their hearts. A major puputan followed and the palace was burned down, ending the 600 year rule of the Majapahit empire's descendents in Bali. The Balinese also commemorate Puputan Margarana, which falls every November 20th., commemorating the war between the people and Dutch army who wanted to re-colonise Indonesia after independence was declared in 1945.
Puputan, which means "ending" or "finish" is a form of ritual self sacrifice known only in Bali. For the people of Bali, what is more important nowadays is not the war but the spirit of puputan. The word is used in various contexts, including political, cultural, and even in sport. It is often interpreted as 'fight all out in achieving goals' or 'spirit of encouragement' against any challenges in the post-colonial era. Thus, the common use of the word 'puputan' not so much reflects the public's memory of the war but more of the importance of the struggle and bravery in making Bali's future better.

The Mood of Ubud

Owing to a long-term interaction with the west, as well as a long and flourishing cultural tradition of its own, Ubud has developed a unique style that can be seen throughout the town and its surrounds. The nyentrik (eccentric) attachment of Ubud's more mobile population to old motor vehicles is well documented. Tjokorde Lingsir of Puri Kantor hid a magnificent old 1930s Morris Minor from the Japanese occupation forces, and continued to display it in his garage until his death. Another long-term resident, the Javanese artist Abdul Aziz, kept an old Fiat in his studio. The tradition continues with the younger generation of Tjokorde from Puri Saren regularly buying and restoring vintage cars. A number of gracefully aging Mercedes Benz sedans are often seen on the streets of Ubud. Not content with mere motorcars, Ubud also has the highest per capita ownership of Harley Davidson motorcycles in all of Indonesia.

The most exhuberant expressions of Ubud Style are to be seen at traditional Balinese ceremonies. When choosing clothes, for example, Ubud is always quick to take up the latest fashion in kebayas, sarongs and myriad ways of tying udengs and saputs. Even Ubud funerary accoutrements have been renowned since the time of the great Ubud artist I Gusti Nyoman Lempad (whose designs for bade, cremation towers, made Ubud funerals famous island-wide). Phantasmagoric and giant paper-mache ogoh-ogoh effigies paraded around the village by each banjar the night before the Balinese New Year (Nyepi) also reflect the vivid and fanciful imagination of Ubud's people, as do the numerous bamboo penjor masterpieces that festoon the village's streets during Galungan.

Ubud, to this day, remains a beautiful town despite occasional struggles with tourist development. Our earliest memories of Ubud are much coloured by light – the fingers of weak sun through rising wisps of early morning mist in bamboo groves and river valleys, the dappled midday of the main street, late afternoon sunlight bouncing off mirror-like rice terraces, and, because we had no electricity in our early days here, the flickering of kerosene lamps, the warm glow of bamboo coconut-oil torches, the incandescence of "storm king" pressure lamps, and the magic of fireflies in the rice terraces

Picking our way home by torchlight, late at night after temple festivals, along narrow paths in the rice fields, was always a dramatic end to an evening. Apart from the ubiquitous warung life, these festivals were our main form of entertainment. We would watch mesmerized, as dance troupes of pre-adolescent bidadari -- angels -- performed impossible feats of finger, hand, head, eye and body coordination. We "Westerners" who found Ubud felt that it was our paradise on earth.

We needed to continue to believe in this idea of paradise in order to overcome discomforts occasioned by a lack of modern conveniences. No matter that there was no electricity, nor running water, telephones, street lamps, televisions, nor even restaurants as we had known them. We were young and prepared to endure any discomfort to live in paradise. (Electricity came to Ubud in 1977 and we all carefully apportioned our allotted four hundred watts between light bulbs, and, if we were really well off, small refrigerators.) We were forerunners of mass tourism and the sheer weight of our numbers would change forever the town we had "discovered". Already we were seeking better communications -- the old East German hand-cranked telephone (with its unintelligible crackle that had to be interpreted by its operator) and garbled telex messages made it impossible to run any sort of business by western standards. Telephones, however, finally came to Ubud in 1989, bringing with them not only direct contact with the rest of the world (without "interpreter"), but also nearly miraculous fax machines which brought, to our minds, a quantum leap in communications. Ah, modern technology had come to Ubud at last! The beautiful old cast iron ice grinders that produced wildly-coloured ice confections that cooled the hottest of days, were soon superseded by electric blenders, and the kacang hijau (green peanut) sellers were replaced by jingle-blaring ice cream peddlers on motorbikes. Weekly movies on a precariously hung white sheet in the Ubud Wantilan, advertisement-free public television in the bale banjar -- all went by the wayside in the name of progress.

The person who personifies the "Old Bali" for us is Gung Niang, the mother of our landlord who is one of Ubud's Tjokorde. Gung Niang was our source for all information concerning puri life when we first arrived. It was a mutual education. Gung Njiang would point our what was expected of us and then she would grill us about things she had heard about in "Java" (her word for any place that wasn't Bali). She would cackle with laughter when we ingenuously tried to explain such mysteries as how cows were milked in large-scale dairies. We attempted at different times to ascertain her age but the closest we ever got to a figure was a wonderful, but frightening, story about how, during the Batur earthquake of 1907, she was buried under a wooden and thatch bale in her parents' compound in Peliatan. She was old enough to remember vividly how she kept calling out until her older brother came and pulled her out of rubble. She grew up to marry the father of the present Tjokorde and become the "Queen Mother" of our compound. Her special claim to fame rests with the fact that she continues her husband's legacy of maintaining a large glass jar in which she keeps a special obat, or medicine, that is used to treat any sort of bite or sting. People come from far away for this medicine, and in return they bring bring arak liquor to top up her jar. We have all been responsible for adding to the jar's contents and the more rare the find, the more pleased she would be with our donation, for into her huge jar, to turn into sludge at the bottom, went any reptile or insect whose bite was poisonous. The resultant obat, a clear and foul-smelling liquor, worked on a homeopathic principle and bore amazing results, as we, our daughter, and many neighbours, can verify. It relieved the stings of wasp, bee, scorpion and centipede bites, and a myriad of other misadventures with the animal kingdom. Today she still reigns in her puri, the last of her generation of Ubud aristocrats.

We long ago settled into "our" corner of paradise and began learning from the people around us what was really important in life here. From these interactions come our oldest and most abiding memories -- the myriad and colourful stories that explained and illustrated the everyday beliefs and customs around us, and the establishment of relationships that have now spanned generations. We remember things like the nights before Nyepi with their ogoh-ogoh, the many variations of temple processions and temple ceremonies, cockfights, Hari Saraswati, Independence Day with its town gathering around the greased pole holding dozens of prizes for those who dare to climb to the top, the penjor-decorated holidays of Galungan and Kuningan, the pulsative time when weeks seem to go by without anything happening, and then days that fly by without a break, in a flurry of offering-making, temple visits, community services and cremations. These things have not changed -- and in them the old Ubud remains very much a large part of the "new". It is a wonderfully vibrant place that always evolves, but, at the same time, always maintains its own special character -- one that comprises strong cultural traditions with a more measured approach to life.