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Taking as foundation an article by Professor A. Teeuw from 1986, this chapter aims to look at the questions of literary history, translation and transformation, as they apply to the theme of the Rāmāyaṇa, ranging from the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa in Java and Bali to the Serat Rama and Rama Keling in Java. The chapter takes socio-cultural setting into consideration, and concludes that much more basic philological work is needed before any satisfactory results can be produced.
Keywords: Old Javanese; Rāmāyaṇa; literary history; translation and transformation; structural analysis; transmission; manuscripts.
Introduction
Beyond the narrow circle of specialists, even among scholars of Southeast Asia, the very existence of a literature in a language called Old Javanese may come as a surprise, and so one should not automatically expect to find an appreciation of its special qualities. Yet it is undoubtedly part of the heritage of the people of Java and Bali who created it, and hence more generally of all Indonesians, constituting an element of their national culture.
At the same time, however, it has often been non-Indonesians who have taken an interest in Old Javanese, beginning with Dutch scholars in the colonial period, and continuing with others in various countries in the post-independence era. Such international attention suggests that the products of Old Javanese literature are by no means the exclusive possession of any one group, but are capable of taking their place among the treasures of world literature, which can be enjoyed by readers of any background. This is then the present writer's point of view.
The scholars who first came to the academic study of Old Javanese (as distinct from the traditional indigenous study) approached it from their understanding of the cultural history of the region, with its obvious links to Indian civilization — after all, the script used for writing and many of the themes could be traced to Indian origins. A knowledge of Sanskrit is understandably useful for reading Old Javanese. However, the spirit and the inspiration of many of these literary works, prose and poetry, is also plainly indigenous, so that we should not make the mistake of denying the Old Javanese authors due credit for their remarkable achievements.
The presence of elements explicitly identified as “Javanese” or “from Java” in traditional Malay literature and performance — settings, characters, objects, idioms, stories, texts, even entire genres like the renditions of Mahabharata story-matter — has mostly been ascribed to the putative prestige of the historical civilization of Java. Here I explore another point of view. Focusing on religiosity and ethics in a hikayat with Mahabharata stories, I propose the notion of javanaiserie, the creation of texts, performances, and other cultural artefacts designed to be considered Javanese. Javanaiserie has proven alluring in Malay contexts. Rather than as a matter of influence I suggest regarding javanaiserie as an active process of worldmaking, the creation of a reality that is culturally at once close to and distinct from an audience's everyday lifeworld, a reality that can be both elegant and evil, appealing as well as appalling.
The “Javanese” Presence in Malay Literature and Performance
It has long been noted by scholars that traditional literature and performance in Malay, as once practised throughout the archipelago, in an area ranging from the island of Java itself, particularly Batavia, up to Kedah and Kelantan in Malaysia, contains elements with explicit and strong Javanese associations. Settings, characters, objects, idioms, stories, texts, even entire genres are explicitly identified as “Javanese” or “from Java”. Certain Malay prose and verse narratives (hikayat and syair) are set at medieval Javanese courts, with Javanese protagonists. These works mostly tell stories about Prince Ino Kertapati (Panji) and his close relatives. Some are labelled as translations from the Javanese language or said to have been performed by narrators in or from Java. An often-discussed example is the Hikayat Andaken Penurat, but there are numerous others (Robson 1969, pp. 7–8; Koster 1997, pp. 55–56; Braginsky 2004, p. 159). There are also, of course, Malay texts with only a few episodes set in Java and with Javanese characters more as antagonists, including the celebrated Sejarah Melayu and Hikayat Hang Tuah. A genre of shadow-play named “Javanese” (wayang Jawa) used to be performed in a variety of Kelantan Malay with Panji and Pandawa narratives — stories about the heroes of the Mahabharata — for its repertoire (Sweeney 1972, pp. 3–25).
In Indian mythology, Abimanyu is the teenage son of Arjuna and Subadra. He has learned from his father how to break through the enemy line in battle but, unfortunately, not how to get out again. Abimanyu's tragic death is told in the Mahabharata (the “Adi Parwa” and the “Drona Parwa”), and was later retold in many vernacular versions from South and Southeast Asia — often with additional details, such as his marriage to Siti Sundari, which is absent from the Mahabharata and the Sanskrit tradition in general. This chapter will compare the accounts of his death in the Javanese Kakawin Bharatayuddha, the Malay Hikayat Pandawa Lima and the contemporary Indonesian short story “Nostalgia” by Danarto. The comparisons will describe the ways in which the story and the ideology framing the meaning of Abimanyu's death shift between these various accounts.
Keywords: Abimanyu; Mahabharata; Bharata Yuddha; Hikayat Pandawa Lima; Danarto.
Introduction
Abhimanyu replied: ‘I will fight for the victory of my fathers and pierce the splendid strategy of Drona.
My father Arjuna taught me the secret of penetrating this array but I do not know how to come out of it should an emergency arise.’
(Mahabharata VII: 35.18–19, trans. P. Lal 2007: 190)
It has been said that there are many Ramayanas, both in India and abroad, and “each reflects the social location and ideology of those who have appropriated it” (Richman 1991, p. 4). The same is, of course, true of the Mahabharata. There are many Mahabharatas and its multiple stories are variously read, recited, acted, danced, sculptured, filmed, drawn, and possibly recreated in many other ways as well, all reflecting the values and aesthetics of the time and place in which they are recreated. Sutjipto's Indonesian translation of the Old Javanese Kakawin Bharatayuddha describes the story of fratricidal violence as “cerita yang mengerikan ini”, this horrifying story (Sutjipto Wirjosuparto 1968, p. 360). Few sections of the epic are as horrifying as the death in battle of Abimanyu, the young son of Arjuna and Subadra.
The written literatures of Malay and Javanese have a long history — more than one thousand years in the case of Javanese. During this long period the outward appearance of the book changed beyond recognition, themes occupying the minds of the authors and their audiences were adapted to new ideologies, long established literary conventions gave way to completely different ones, and the languages concerned, subject to constant renewal like any natural language, went through successive stages that became more and more incomprehensible with increasing distance in time.
These and other factors contributed to old texts falling into oblivion and new ones rising to popularity. A constant element amidst change, resisting the threat of oblivion, was the Ramayana and Mahabharata. Having arrived early in the history of Javanese literature, both epics found expression in various forms during the long period of Indian influence. The epics remained after the Indianized culture to which they belonged waned and disappeared. Continuing to manifest themselves in all sorts of shapes, their presence was not undermined by the advance of Islam in Java, nor was it by the more recent influence of Western culture. Information on the history of Malay literature, though providing less detail, shows a similar picture.
The chapters collected in Traces of the Ramayana and Mahabharata in Javanese and Malay Literature go beyond mapping epic presence. They show what happened during transmission, adaptation and borrowing, and offer hypotheses on the underlying motives. The authors scrutinize a couple of selected texts and pictorial representations and — again or for the first time — address old questions and raise new ones, going back and forth in time, connecting Javanese and Malay and even Balinese literature.
The author with whom the volume opens, Stuart Robson, gives an overall view of the history of one text, the story of Rama and Sita, from the Old Javanese Ramayana of the ninth century up to the Serat Rama and Rama Keling written in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Quite extraordinarily, the intervals between copies (partly hypothetical, partly based on real examples) appear to coincide with important moments in the history of Javanese culture. Taking Teeuw's theory on literary history and on translation as his starting point, the author is able to explain continued Javanese interest in the story from the wider social context as it developed over almost one millennium.
This chapter examines the role of the great Indian epics in the process of signification in the Panji romance Hikayat Misa Taman Jayeng Kusuma (copied or written between 1860 and 1870), concentrating on five episodes in its narrative. It traces the intertextual presence of elements familiar from Mahabharata and Ramayana, and suggests that the hikayat's most probable sources are New Javanese (wayang kulit purwa) and Malay (hikayat's) adaptations of episodes of these epics, the creation of which was more or less contemporary with the hikayat's probable date of composition, and not Old-Javanese ones in the form of kakawin. The unknown author of the hikayat freely combines disparate elements from these adaptations to create what may be called mirrortexts commenting on the hikayat's narrative and thus adds new layers of meaning to it. The chapter closes with some considerations about how and why the hikayat foregrounds its own fictionality, relating this to what Malay poetics calls creative amplification (memanjangkan), a key characteristic of all narrative in the genre of the Panji romance.
Keywords: Literary criticism, intertextuality, traditional Malay literature, Old-Javanese poetry, wayang kulit purwa.
Introduction
First the story is told that the gods were sitting together in the Hall of the Lotus of Illusion, discussing a plan to send Betara Indera Naya and his wife down to incarnate in the Illusionary Abode. Since the Pandawa kings had long ago gone back to the heavens, the Illusionary Abode had become a deserted place and their land was about to become forest again. The gods therefore liked the idea and all agreed with Betara Kala's proposal.
With these words opens the narrative of a bulky Malay Panji romance, entitled Hikayat Misa Taman Jayeng Kusuma (henceforth called HMTJK), that according to its editor, Abdul Rahman Kaeh (1976), was possibly copied or written between 1860 and 1870. On Betara Kala's proposal, so the hikayat subsequently tells us, Betara Indera Naya and his wife Dewi Mandurati descend to earth and incarnate as the king and queen of Koripan, whose sons then become the kings of the Javanese kingdoms of Koripan, Daha, Gagelang and Singasari, and whose daughter marries the king of Manjapahit.
The twelfth-century Kakawin Bhāratayuddha (“The War of the Bhāratas”) is unique in Old Javanese kakawin literature because it was the work of two authors, Mpu Sĕḍah and Mpu Panuluh. Mpu Panuluh began his contribution to the poem from Canto 32, at the point in the narrative when Śalya becomes commander-in-chief of the Kaurawa forces. To this part of the text — a poem in its own right within the larger work — the poet gave the name Śalyawadha, “The Death of Śalya”. Mpu Panuluh's section of the kakawin is marked by a number of major diversions from the Sanskrit narrative of the Mahābhārata, including the animosity between Śalya and Aśwatthāmā and the introduction of the figure of Śalya's wife, Satyawatī, who later performs sati, taking her life on the battlefield in order to follow her beloved husband in death. It is precisely these episodes that dominate later Balinese reworkings of the Bhāratayuddha narrative in poetry and art. This chapter examines the narrative continuities between Mpu Panuluh's contribution to the twelfth-century Javanese kakawin and later textual and visual representations produced in Bali.
On 6 September 1157 CE, Mpu Sĕḍah, a poet at the court of King Jayabhaya of Kaḍiri, began to compose the Old Javanese kakawin, the Bhāratayuddha, “The War of the Bhāratas”. This long narrative poem of 731 stanzas retells the story of the war between the Pāṇḍawas and the Kaurawas described in the “battle” books of the great Sanskrit epic, the Mahābhārata, that is, from the preparations for battle in the Udyogaparvan (Book 5) to the annihilation of the Kaurawa forces and the slaughter of the five sons of the Pāṇḍawa heroes on the night after the battle from the Sauptikaparvan (Book 10). In the introductory tribute to his patron in Canto 1, Mpu Sĕḍah, who composed the first section of the poem, reveals that his retelling of the story of the great war between the Pāṇḍawas and the Kaurawas is presented in homage to another mighty hero, his patron, King Dharmeśwara, or Jayabhaya, who has vanquished all his enemies (Supomo 1993, pp. 7–8). This kakawin therefore serves also as an allegorical panegyric to the world-conquering East Javanese monarch who ruled from c. 1135 to 1157 CE.
The Asṭabrata or “Eight Rules of Life”, which refer to the meritorious acts of the eight Hindu deities which the ideal king should emulate, was first introduced in Java through the Old Javanese kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, in which Rāma lectures Wibhīṣaṇa on the status and role of a king. This exposition of ancient Hindu political theory has remained popular in Java until this present day, Islamization notwithstanding. Over time it has even become regarded as a genuinely Javanese theory on leadership, and part of indigenous wayang philosophy. This chapter takes a closer look at a Yogyakarta version of the Asṭabrata made at the Pakualaman principality, represented in two early twentieth-century illuminated manuscripts with coloured drawings in wayang style. These rare and beautiful artefacts are a wonderful example of how the age-old Indic tradition was once redefined in an Islamicate environment. Examining the iconography of the eight deities that embody the ideal royal virtues, the conclusion is drawn that the illustrations seem to offer merely visual diversion. Although the two manuscripts discussed here were produced in a colonial context as gifts to high-ranking Dutch representatives of the colonial regime, the words and images do not seem to suggest a mode of “writing back” to the dominant Dutch ideology.
Keywords: Asṭabrata, Yogyakarta, Pakualaman, Javanese manuscript art, mirror for princes.
Rāma's Lessons on Leadership and “Javanese Genius”
In 2011, a book on the astabrata, also known under such designations as “the eightfold teachings”, “the eight ways of life”, and “the eight royal virtues”, was published in Indonesia, stating in the blurb that Indonesians were nowadays intoxicated by imported theories on leadership that, however, were ill-fitted to local realities.1 Hence, the author argued that local wisdom from Indonesia's own heritage as presented in the Astabrata is in fact still relevant (Yasasusastra 2011). Strictly speaking, however, the Astabrata is no less foreign-derived, being a concept of ancient Hindu political theory on “the divine qualities that a king was to emulate” (Weatherbee 1994, p. 414).
• Regardless of the size of the domestic economy, there are ample reasons for firms to extend their markets beyond home shores. These include increasing sales, improving profits, diversifying risks, reaping economies of scale, matching the moves of competitors, enhancing competitiveness or accessing government incentives.
• Both Indonesia and Malaysia seek to enhance the competitiveness of their micro, small and medium enterprises (MSMEs) by including internationalization goals in their respective national development plans for these enterprises.
• Findings from fourteen case studies in the two countries indicate that exporting may be a serendipitous discovery, as few of these cases were born global in intent. Shifting to intentional exporting will require entrepreneurs to tap into government and/or private networks and thus connect with international buyers.
• Indonesian MSMEs are more inclined to depend more on government than private networks as they perceive the former to be more credible. Malaysian cases indicate some firms prefer private to government networks. This is attributed to the differences in the political economy of the two countries.
• Going forward, both countries need to consolidate their government-run programmes and reduce the fiscal burden. MSMEs should tap more into private networks to bridge the information gap that hinders their access to external markets.
• ASEAN can facilitate the entry of MSMEs into the ASEAN market by implementing resolutely current plans to reduce technical barriers to trade.
When riots broke out in Indonesia in 1998, I returned to my homeland and served in Mawar Sharon Church which has expanded into 30,000 members in this nation. Today, I'm entrusted to lead as Vice Head-Pastor of Mawar Sharon Church which [sic] oversees 70 local churches all around the country. At a young age, I am so fortunate to have personally witnessed more than 100,000 souls led to Christ. My passion is to fan into flame the fire of spiritual awakening everywhere, raising up pastors and leaders who are anointed in every field — especially in Asia. Moreover, I'm yearning to see every nation on the face of the earth experience a personal encounter with Jesus Christ.
Philip Mantofa
Large numbers are important to Pentecostalism in particular because they are both the goal and the tool of proselytization. In sermons and media that advertise worship events, numbers serve as “objective indicators of progress” in the mission of the believers. Meanwhile, the large-scale worship and the construction of megachurches are an indispensable part of this growth project, be it in South Korea, the United States, or Indonesia. Yet, Indonesian megachurches have their own distinctive features. As I demonstrate below, Indonesia's prominence in the global Christian network has contributed to a vibrant rise of Christian presence and influence in the Global South; a rise made more noteworthy given that it is the world's largest Muslim-majority country. In fact, as Indonesian megachurches flourished in major cities, Indonesian Pentecostal leaders have been actively leading, and not merely following, some new global Christian networks.
In this chapter, I consider the cultural logic of counting souls in a multi-ethnic Indonesian Pentecostal congregation. This is one of the most dynamic and popular churches in Indonesia: Gereja Mawar Sharon (literally The Rose of Sharon Church, or GMS). As a youth-centred church that has been the most attractive congregation in Indonesian college towns, GMS began to position itself as an independent church in 2001 when it broke away from GBI (Gereja Bethel Injil, or The Bethel Gospel Church), the long-standing Indonesian Pentecostal Church. In terms of its membership, it has a strong representation of ethnic Chinese, particularly among those in the leadership strata. Yet, it is more accurate to see the congregations as multi-ethnic and, particularly, belonging to transnational, middle-class religious networks oriented towards a global Christian revival.
Klang Valley, comprising the federal capital Kuala Lumpur and the adjoining city of Petaling Jaya, is the most important urban centre in Malaysia. It is also in Klang Valley where one would find the highest concentration of churches in the country. This is because Christian missionaries during the British colonial period focused on spreading their faith in areas where immigrants from China and India lived and worked. As the number of converts grew, churches were also built in colonial Kuala Lumpur. However, the Christian population during British colonial rule was never more than a small fraction of the local population.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Christianity experienced a growth in number of adherents and churches in all the major urban centres in Peninsular Malaysia, particularly in Klang Valley. These churches range from small house churches to Pentecostal independent megachurches. It was the Pentecostal-Evangelical brand of Christianity, rather than that of traditional mainline denominations like the Anglicans and Methodists, which attracted people to these churches.
In this chapter, I will discuss Pentecostalism and its success in attracting a mainly urban middle-class population to its fold. For this purpose, I will begin by briefly discussing the history of Pentecostalism in Malaysia, followed by a discussion on the growth of the middle class. I will then offer a case study on the Bethesda church in downtown Petaling Jaya and argue that it is a window into the universe of Pentecostalism in the country, particularly its relationship with the middle class.
What is Pentecostalism? Briefly, Pentecostalism refers to the ecstatic forms of Christianity in which “believers receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit and have ecstatic experiences such as speaking in tongues, healing and prophesying”. Most Pentecostals can be considered evangelical in theological orientation; that is, they have a literal interpretation of the Bible, believe in personal salvation, in the need for holy living, and in having an emphasis on evangelism.
According to general scholarly consensus, Pentecostalism originated in the United States in the early twentieth century and then spread to the rest of the world through its missionaries.