Arriving from Bangkok with a few days off in the largest Muslim country in the world where Hinduism arrived in the 1st century CE, Buddhism in the 6th and Islam possibly as early as the 9th century, Nick jetted down the volcanic spine of Java to the Indonesian cultural capital of Yogyakarta with Mount Merbabu (10,318’) and Mount Merapi (9,550’) thrusting through cloud to the north. He was making a pilgrimage to the 8th century Buddhist stupa of Borobudur and nearby Hindu temple of Prambanan at the foot of smoking Merapi.
After exploring the intriguing grounds of the Sultan’s Keraton Palace (1756) in Yogyakarta, he grabbed a dilapidated cab and headed to one of the three great temple complexes of Southeast Asia, the other two being Pagan, Burma and Angkor Wat, Cambodia. On the drive to the Menorah Hills forming the verdant backdrop to the site, serene rice fields filled with straw-hatted villagers and white brahma bulls plowing black volcanic mud border the road. The first hint something spectacular loomed ahead was Mendut Temple under an immense and ancient Bodhi tree. The block structure has carved relief panels of superb Hindu-Javanese style on the exterior walls together with a subtle foreshadowing of the mini-stupa motif ahead lining its multi-terraced roof. Inside is an unusual Sakhyamuni Buddha, for it’s seated Western style in a chair with feet on the floor instead of crossed in the lotus position. It is the largest statue to be found in situ in all Java, with its intricate carved fingers in the Vitarka or Dhammachakka mudra, expressing the first public discourse on “turning of the wheel of Dharma”. Ten feet high and flanked by Boddhisatva Lokesvara on the left and Virapana on the right, with incense wafting through the semi-darkness, it makes a powerful impression and prepares one for the epic mandala to come.
Mendut and another temple called Candi Pawon, two river crossings closer to Borobudur, formed an east-west purification process before entering the main temple. More typical of Central Javanese Temples with its pyramidal roof, it has pot-bellied dwarves pouring riches above the entrance, signifying it was most likely dedicated to the Buddhist god of fortune, Kuvera. Even though pilgrims seek Nirvana one has to pray for material fulfillment in this world.
The approach to Borobudur is spectacular, rising from serrated palm leaves and light green rice fields under jagged Menorah Hills. The walk-through mandala was built by the Saliendra Dynasty somewhere between 750-850 CE, some 300 years before Angkor. The entire site was abandoned soon after completion, its burial in volcanic ash possibly the reason for their hasty departure. In 1815, when Sir Stamford Raffles ruled the island during the five-year English interregnum after defeating the Dutch at Batavia, the site was cleared to reveal the majestic stupa.
The monument was built as a broad symmetrical stupa, a Buddhist vision of the cosmos in stone. It begins in the daily world of passion and desire, then circles higher past motifs of the Buddha’s life to eternal nothingness, or Nirvana, represented by 72 Buddhas encased in latticed stone mini-stupas around its pinnacle. Above the 1500 highly decorated relief panels depicting a textbook of Buddhist doctrine, some 400 Buddhas serenely stare at the bucolic scene fertilized by volcanic eruptions.
The syncretic motif of Hinduism and Buddhism is found atop the final gate leading to Borobudur’s highest level of latticed Nirvana with a Cheshire Cat-like Kala (representative of the entropic universe) swallowing the visitor as time swallows all. The balustrades alongside steps at the monument’s base are strangely reminiscent of the snake heads of Tenochtitlan in Mexico City, while Makara waterspouts at various midpoints along the terraces are similar to Mesoamerican motifs with swirling monster heads of teeth and snarling lips, as are its corner waterspouts chiseled into the head of Jaladwara.
Departing Borobudur is difficult due to the pull of its magnificence, but there is an equally strong tug coming from 25 miles away: the 9th century Hindu temple known as Prambanan. Built 50 years after Borobudur, Prambanan may have been constructed by the Hindu power of Java at the time (the Sanjayas of Old Mataram in the north) as a religious counterpoint to Borobudur, or the Buddhist temple of Candi Sewu found directly north toward Mount Merapi. As in Bali, these Hindu temples are built in a mountain-sea alignment, which also corresponds with a north-south direction.
As at Borobudur there is a blending of Shivaite and Buddhist motifs at Prambanan, suggesting there was marriage between two dynasties with differing beliefs at the time: Saliendra and Sanjay. However, given the fact Buddhism arose from Hinduism, with similar motifs found throughout India and Nepal, the syncretic blending is a natural one.
After 1,000 years the eight minor and eight main temples of the central courtyard are what is left of the Prambanan complex. Surrounding this cluster were some 244 temples, all of which lay in ruins, but the remaining central Shiva Mahdeva spire is more exquisitely wrought than the central tower representing Mount Meru at Angkor. Shiva Mahdeva soars 150’ high with niches carved in its 100’ base framing lions flanked by heavenly trees and stylistic bird men. Over the gateway into the central chamber is Kala again, the grim reaper of Hinduism, time eating up everything in its path.
Encircling the tower and its two flanking temples dedicated to Brahma and Vishnu, are scenes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata carved onto an inner wall, relating how Lord Rama’s wife Sita was abducted then seduced by the monkey god Hanuman and his simian army in the former, and the heroism of Lord Krishna in the latter. The Ramayana ends with the monkeys building a bridge to Sri Lanka, then continues on the inner wall of Brahma’s temple next door.
Atop steep steps in the central tower’s main chamber is the four-armed statue to the Hindu creator/destroyer, Lord Shiva, perched on a lotus leaf like the Buddha. There are cells on each directional side of the temple. In the southern cell is a statue of Agastaya, an incarnation of Shiva as divine teacher, while to the west is found Shiva’s son Ganesh with a beautifully wrought elephant head, followed to the north, or destructive Mount Merapi volcano side, by Shiva’s consort Durga.
At Candi Sewu, the Buddhist temple north of Prambanan in a direct line to Merapi, a Muezzin from an unseen mosque broadcasts a call to prayers across ruins of syncretic belief. The mini-stupas with erect pinnacles that thrust skyward at Buddhist Candi Sewu, fuse with inverted Hindu lotus-flowered domes and linga carved from single pieces of basalt at Prambanan to mimic the rounded volcanic shoulders of Mount Merapi. Further east is yet another complex of temples built around the time of Prambanan: Buddhist Candi Plaosan. Again, Kala of Hindu mythology is found above its windows while inside are seated Bodhisattvas gazing toward Borobudur.
Back in Jakarta, Nick left the congested capital in a cab for the 30 minute ride through horrific traffic to the colonial side of town: Batavia (founded 1619), the capital of the Dutch East Indies with its harbor at Sunda Kelapa. Red-tiled roofs predominate the historic area along the banks of the putrid Ciliwung River flowing into the Java Sea speckled with a thousand offshore islands. The area wreaks of imperialism, but an age in which the colonists could enjoy a lifestyle contrasting markedly with the locals trying to scrape by in yet another Asian metropolis.
The old harbor was filled with the classic Buginese Macassar schooners that have plied the Java Sea for centuries, carrying wood from Borneo, spices from the Celebes and slaves from and to everywhere. The air was thick with humidity as he strolled along the quay bustling with the off-loading of brightly colored ships, wide of beam and tall of sail built with nary a nail. Amazingly long, slender pieces of wood hewn from old growth forests in Borneo compose the hulls, while equally long and strong pieces serve as gangways for numerous impoverished longshoremen servicing the vessels.
Back in Jakarta one of Nick’s favorite places in the world to explore was the old National Museum, a white colonial building beside a major thoroughfare across from the Monas monument, its eclectic collection culled from Indonesia’s vast island network. The courtyard with a vast number of Hindu statuary lining covered walkways or set upon cut grass is overwhelming, let alone the astounding collection of musical instruments, batiks and the varying architectural styles of distinct islands and regions. His favorite section was the Dong Son drum collection traded to Java’s shores from Vietnam two thousand years ago. These bronze masterpieces have the most intriguing reliefs cast upon their surfaces: wild bird men in canoes, raised frogs on the tympanon and abstract storks flying amidst abstract patterns circling the drums. The fine shape many of the instruments are in given their age is a miracle; they line the floor next to a case exhibiting the skull of the first Homo Erectus discovered in 1891: Java man (700,000-1,000,000 years old).
On takeoff from Jakarta they launched out over the Sunda Strait, the historic, volcano-guarded passage between Java and Sumatra. There, rising mid-strait with other remnants of the 1883 Krakatoa eruption which killed 36,000, and forming the only above water fragments of the submerged rim, is beautifully formed Anak Krakatoa (son of Krakatoa) at 2,500’; its cone is shaped like a volcano ready to erupt rather than a spent one. Anak still rumbles and spits fire but is currently quiet: fleecy white clouds rather than smoke grace its summit surrounded by vibrant tropical waters. Further north in Sumatra among vast tracks of mangrove swamp cut by massive rivers winding their way to the sea from its volcanic spine, rise wisps of smoke despite no trace of humanity. Who are the Homo sapiens isolated in this untouched land and what are their beliefs?
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