In the 10th Century A.D., the Fengastulan temple, in the capital of the kingdom of Swa Prabhu in Bedahulu, had been busy for weeks.  
     There was going to be a big festival there. The king was to present offerings to God, and make a sacrifice in thanks for his kingship. The name of this king was Betara Dalem Dharma Udayana Warmadewa. The ceremony was named Aswamedayajnya.  
     A thousand people came from all over the kingdom to prepare for the ceremony. The palace was decorated very beautifully. The streets were made clean and the house fronts were adorned with dangling penjors. In Pengastulan temple, a special collection of umbrellas and banners was set up.  
     In the daytime, these protected the people from the sting of the sun. The red, yellow, blue, and white cotton of the umbrellas was decorated with gold paint, symbolising the glitter of lightning.  
     The edges of the umbrellas were decorated with a cotton fringe border, the green and red tassels representing the procession of the King's followers.  
     Some villages donated bamboo, others firewood, chickens, fruit, and more than a hundred pigs. The animals were slaughtered and cooked with vegetables, coconut and sauce to make lawar.  
     The most important aspect of the ceremony was the sacrifice of the King's favorite horse. The horse was strong and quick and could run like the wind.  
     He often led the King into battle, hunting in the jungle, or to see the countryside. His body was white but his tail was black. He was one of a kind in Bali; there were no others like him. This horse had horns like a cow. When he ran, he looked like a white cloud splitting the sky and sounded like the swoosh of an arrow.  
     His name was Uccai Srawa, and he shared his name with the horse who sprang from the holy Amarta waters, when God stirred up the Mandaragiri Mountain at the beginning of the Era of Man.  
     The King felt sorrow at the sacrifice of his horse but the ceremony demanded it; only a special animal could be sacrificed.  
     The gamelan orchestra played all day and night making the treetops tremble with enjoyment.  
     The wind carried the music to the mountaintops and to the middle of the ocean, where waves as large as mountains became small as a baby's hands.  
     The people were waiting in the streets for the King's procession to pass. In the palace, the King sat on his throne, borne by soldiers. The Queen, Sri Guna Priya Dharmapatmi, followed on her throne with her children.  
     Uccai Srawa was decorated with a glittering costume. His crown was made of the young, yellow leaves of the coconut tree. He walked gently, slowly, to the sound of gamelan music.  
     The procession started out from the village and followed the decorated route to Pengastulan temple. The people joined the procession and the line grew long.  
     The horse himself seemed to understand that he was to be sacrificed. Tears flowed from his eyes.  
     His body somefimes trembled, his tail always swinging, and from time to time he panted. He was proud to be the sacrifice for the Aswamedayajnya ceremony. But to separate from the King was very hard.  
     The procession continued. Hundreds of people followed behind, carrying offerings on their heads.  
     Some people brought umbrellas, banners, long flags, and sacred weapons. The horse led the procession. His bridle was made of white cotton rolled long, and held by two soldiers.  
     As the procession approached the temple gates, the priest came out to welcome the King. Suddenly the horse did not want to move anymore. He became quiet and stood tall. His ears straightened up. From his horns came a blue-white smoke. 
     The King's heart throbbed. He really knew the character of his horse. Many people tried to pull the horse by his reins. He remained still. They tried to push him.  
     Suddenly he neighed and reared up on his hind legs. The people were stunned. They tried to still the horse but he kicked and thrashed.  
     Uccai Srawa became wild, his eyes like fire. His ears stood up; his breathing became hard. The people crowded around and the horse crushed some of them and ran through the procession.  
     Many people tried to stop him, but they were flung back by his attacks. No one could catch him. He ran along the road until he was hidden in the twisting path. Many people chased him. Finally, following the King's orders, the people entered the temple, prayed, and then went back to the village.  
     King Udayana was saddened by the disappearance of Uccai Srawa. He paced up and down in the palace. The priests and officials sat before him.  
     Those who had chased the horse returned, unsuccessful.  
     "My people," the King said, "What has happened could not be avoided. I know Uccai Srawa was angry with me. He thought I betrayed our relationship. Therefore, starting tomorrow morning, search for that horse until you catch him. Don't return without him. I will replace him with another offering."  
     The people nodded. They could feel the King's sorrow over his favorite horse.  
     "And remember, don't ever hurt him," the King continued. The people nodded again. The palace was quiet.  
     "For the man who catches the horse, I have a reward. This reward is so special its value cannot be expressed by money" 
     That night, the Minister gathered the people who would search. He divided them into groups covering the north, south, east and west of Bali Island. Ten trustworthy servants of the King were assigned to the east; they prepared to hunt the horse that night. That group was known as Peneges.  
     The next morning the groups started out from the kingdom. The Peneges group headed south, and then turned east, toward Gianyar, Klungkung and further east. At the same time the Bratan family went north towards Singaraja. 

     There is a white sand beach and there is coral. The waves never stop rolling there. The night before, the sea rose high.  
     Some coconuts, half eaten by squirrels were left on the beach. Some of them had been tossed by the waves, and thrown back to the beach. The coconut trees grow in rows, their leaves swaying in the wind. Beneath them the tongues of the waves hiss and crackle. Not far from the beach there were green hills and some bald and brown hills joined in a horseshoe shape, surrounding a low plain. To the south were two islands obscured by mist: Nusa Penida and Nusa Lembongan.  
     Ten people were resting on the beach. They wore krises tucked into their selendangs. In their hands they held spears decorated with tassels. Nearby their horses were untied and grazing.  
     Some of the people got up and entered the sea with their spears. Some sat by the water's edge and put their legs in. Others went in as far as their shoulders and returned with fish as big as their arms.  
     "I caught one," someone said. "Let's make a fire and cook it."  
     Some of the men gathered around, wanting to see. Others collected dry grass and dry coconut fiber. They put their krises aside.  
     They made a fire by rubbing dry sticks together between their hands on a bed of arenga palm fiber. Soon the fiber smoked. They blew the smoking pile and it was ignited.  
     The smell of the roasting fish set their stomachs rumbling. More fish were caught, skewered, and added to the fire. The men talked loudly while eafing, laughing and satisfying the hunger of the past few days.  
     "We almost died in Klungkung yesterday" a slightly chubby man said, laughing. "When we entered the village, people were afraid. They ran away"  
     "They sounded the kulkul. We didn't know where they came from-they just surrounded us."  
     "I saw Bendesa's face go pale." The speaker's odd laugh rang high.  
     "But we are ten people with weapons. Why was Bendesa afraid?  
     "I wasn't afraid," the man called Bendesa answered. "But when sharpened weapons surround us, and I'm in the front, my heart shrinks."  
     "A shrunken heart is fear."  
     "I wasn't afraid, but my horse was. He is not used to battle," he said in self defense.  
     "If Ngijeng had not been quick to explain to them, it would have been death." The stocky man wiped his brow.  
     "Of course," a tall, long-faced man added, "If we're opposed by a larger force, we will fall."  
     "How did it begin? What provoked their attack?" someone asked.  
     "It was Prajurit. Just as they had found the tracks of Uccai Srawa, daylight ended." A tall, broad man spoke. "He was annoyed and needed something to do."  
     "So what did he do?"  
     "A dog from the village ran by and he followed chase on his horse, throwing stones at it," the larger man continued.  
     "The dog continued to run, Prajurit following and yelling, until they reached the village."  
     "The noise of the dog attracted more dogs."  
     "And then?"  
     "The people came out, prepared to meet a band of thieves."  
     "How suspicious they were when they saw our horses and weapons!" The man sat back and sighed.  
     "Forgive me. I was so let down when darkness came. All day without food, only coconut water. And you gave me the duty of climbing for the fruit." It was Prajurit who spoke.  
     "You became annoyed, you say?" the huskiest man asked.  
     "Yes, when I saw that skinny mutt look at me, it set me off. It was skinny, but so damn loud!"  
     "When the villagers realized we were the King's delegates, they even gave us food!" The chubby man was laughing.  
     "It won't happen again," Prajurit's voice was flat.  
     The last two who had been fishing returned, their sarongs and long hair drenched. They hauled in the biggest catch of the day. The fish flapped; the men were exhausted.  
     "We almost lost it," they gasped.  
     "The tenggiri fish was brought by the waves to the beach. If he hadn't been caught by the coral, we would never have got him."  
     "I speared him, but he slipped away So I threw my sarong around him and he was trapped."  
     "We have fish enough for tomorrow's journey" It was the chubby man again. 
     "Whooo! This fish has tried my skill." The man holding the fish in his wet sarong laughed deeply, exposing a hole where his front teeth should be. "My eyes are burning with salt."  
     The others clucked in astonishment. They were full of admiration for him.  
     "How about our journey?" the toothless man asked. "Shall we go on, or return home?"  
     "It's better we go home," said Bendesa, his face clouded.  
     "We haven't seen Uccai Srawa yet. No one we've met has seen him!"  
     "If I may, I think we should continue as far as the eastern shore," Prajurit offered, "Who knows, the horse may be there!" 
     Prajurit pointed east. The sun was already high over their heads. "It's all for nothing if we return to the kingdom now!"  
     "If we lose this challenge," the stocky man rubbed his feet, "we may lose our heads."  
     The men nodded slowly  
     "That is right, friend. We're all with you. We'll all succeed or fail together!" Prajurit swung his kris in the air. "From the start we had a pact. We don't return without that horse!"  
     "Right!" the chubby man added. "No return without success. Let's begin quickly!" He stood and the others got to their feet. 
     "Where are we going?" asked Bendesa.  
     "Onward," the answer was emphatic.  
     "Yes ... but where are we going?" Bendesa insisted.  
     "Which way do you think best?" The chubby one was confused. There was no agreement among them.  
     "We'll follow the beach east," said Prajurit. "It's the natural course."  
     "I disagree," the chubby man spoke again. He had another idea. "We must look in the foothills. That land calls us. It could be that it called Uccai Srawa too. It's difficult for him to climb too high. If he's there, he'll be easy to spot."  
     "Yes, yes." Bendesa thumped the man's shoulders. "Uccai Srawa will be easy to spot, flashing white in the sun, like lightning, ya."  
     The toothless man agreed too, "But don't be in such a hurry. Let me eat my fish!"  
     He picked the bones from the fish and tossed a big chunk into his mouth. He continued to speak while chewing.  
     "For the moment, let the horse rest longer. It's a pity to spur ourselves on every day without stopping."  
     The men gave in easily. They settled down to rest and some slept.  
     Not long afterwards the dust flew as they headed north towards the bamboo forest.  
     Their horses whinnied and called to each other; the riders moved in rhythm, balancing their weight on their horses. They rode away from the beach now known as Candi Dasa. 
     Beyond the bamboo forest they came to a sword grass plain, scattered with cactus, surrounded by low hills. They decided to split up for the search.  
     Three hours later they met again on the plain. Only Bendesa was not among them. They waited a long time, but he had not returned. Their hearts grew tight and quickened. Each envisioned an accident, some trouble.  
     The forest skirting the hills was full of animals unafraid of man. There were snakes and figers, too many to count.  
     "Well," Prajurit broke the silence, "We must look for Bendesa."  
     "Let's wait a while," the chubby one suggested. "A little longer and the sun will sink."  
     "If we don't pursue him now, we'll have to do it in the dark. The forest is too dangerous!" the husky man exclaimed.  
     "What do you think, Ngijen?" The chubby man put the question to him.  
     "Hmmmm, someone must climb a high tree. Our sight is obscured by this grass," Ngijen said, brushing aside some of the grass that blocked their path.  
     Ngijen was known as the clever and wise one among them. He was adept with a spear and often invited to join the hunt with the King. When he aimed his spear, his prey rarely escaped. His spear had eyes.  
     Prajurit was pleased with Ngijen. He jumped on the back of his horse. He rode to the highest tree and climbed it.  
     Far away he could see a small black point moving closer. Bendesa! He reported back to the group.  
     Soon they heard yelling and galloping. The nine men mounted their horses and broke away They carried their spears, prepared for the worst.  
     The rider and the yelling came closer. His breath rose and fell hard. His face was flushed.  
     "What happened, Bendesa?" They all began at once. Bendesa's horse bucked. Ngijen rode close and grabbed the reins, bringing the horse to a stop.  
     "There is ... there ..." Bendesa's breath was labored. He pointed north.  
     "What happened, what happened?" the chubby man spoke softly He offered him water in a bamboo cup. Bendesa continued to gesture madly toward the north.  
     "Th ... th ... th ... there was something there." "What happened Bendesa? What has frightened you?" The bamboo cup was still held out to him.  
     "There, he's still there." "He? Who?" they asked impatiently  
     "Uccai Srawa." "Ah?!" they gasped.  
     "Yes, Uccai Srawa, there!" "Uccai Srawa?!" they yelled together.  
     Bendesa finally took the cup from the chubby man. He drank in long gulps. His breathing was still hard.  
     "Are you sure you saw him?" the toothless one was incredulous.  
     "Sure, I saw him. I found his tracks and they led me to him on the northeast side of the hill." "Why didn't you bring him here?" the stocky one waited for an answer.  
     "He ... he ..."  
     "He what ...?" several broke in.  
     "The ... the ... that horse." Bendesa stopped suddenly He was nervous.  
     "The horse ran?" Prajurit asked.  
     "The horse is dead."  
     "Dead?"  
     "Yes, he's dead!"  
     "Come on, let's go there!" Without waifing for an answer, Prajurit kicked his to start and all followed to the northeast side of the hill. 
     When they reached the place shown by Bendesa, they saw the white horse with the black tail lying sfiffly on the ground. His 
nose was bloody, and one horn was broken.  
     They dismounted and felt the corpse for signs of the cause of his death. It had only small scratches and was sfill warm. 
     "This horse died by himself," the toothless man said.  
     "Nobody killed him."  
     "I think so," the chubby one's brow furrowed. "These scratches are from trees."  
     "Still a little bit warm. Maybe he died a couple of hours ago." Ngijen said.  
     "How did he die?" asked Bendesa.  
     "Looking at the blood on his nose I'd say he was very tired," the stocky man offered, "And he may have just dropped." 
     "The mightiest of horses, who can run like the wind, how could this happen?"  
     Bendesa exhaled through his teeth. He couldn't believe that Uccai Srawa could die.  
     "He was searching for his own death," Ngijen said. "He didn't want to be sacrificed for Aswamedayajnya ceremony"  
     It was nearly dark. They confinued talking about Uccai Srawa. The following day they had to report to the King.  
     "Only two people can report," said Ngijen. "It should be Prajurit and you, Batuguling." Ngijen pointed at the two men. The chubby man, whose name actually was Batuguling, nodded his head. 
     "Somebody wait here with me, we'll guard the corpse from wild animals and robbers." All agreed.  
     That night the men alternated watch; the roar of the King of the forest made the guards more attentive. They burned sword grass around their camp.  
     The night passed without incident. The tiger was kept at bay by the fires.  
     Later when the roosters began to crow and the sun became bright, Batuguling and Prajurit started off for Bedahulu to report their findings. 

In Swaprabu, Bedahulu Kingdom, King Udayana and his court conferred with the hunters.  
     "Is it true that you found the horse on the east side of the Island?"  
     "Yes, that's correct. We found him dead," answered Prajurit.  
     "What was the cause of his death?" the King asked.  
     "In my opinion, he died of exhausfion," the chubby one put forward.  
     "There's no question of slaughter, or poison, by a snake perhaps?"  
     "No question, your Highness."  
     "There were no significant marks on the body There was blood only from the nose," said Prajurit.  
     "When do you suppose the horse died?" 
     "A couple of hours before we arrived. The corpse was still warm."  
     "All right," the King addressed the Minister. "Go soon to the place where the corpse is, and take the soldiers to verify it. If all is right, I will then award these men the land where Uccai Srawa lies. The boundaries will be marked by the scent of his corpse. If all is not right, behead them all, the ten of them, in that spot."  
     The Minister nodded and headed off with the sol-diers and the two men.  
     Soon after they left, King Udayana was deep in thought. His favorite horse had been found, but he lived no longer. He vowed in his heart to continue to pay respect to Uccai Srawa.  

In the low plains surrounded by hills, the Minister stood surrounded by a group of men. Their horses rested nearby  
     "Friends of Peneges," he began, "what you claim has been confirmed, and as the King has dictated, this land where we stand is now yours."  
     The ten men from Peneges whispered among them-selves, and then asked, "Didn't the King say the land as far as the scent of the corpse?" 
     "Yes, he said that."  
     "All right, we will now dismember the corpse and the scent will travel far."  
     The Minister was taken aback by the wit of the men. He did not expect such a demand. But the King's word, as final as the spit that escapes the lips, cannot be retrieved.  
     The men began chopping the corpse, and spreading the limbs.  
     They placed the penis in the north, at a spot which later became famous as the holy place, Kakidukun.  
     The stomach and intestines they placed in the hills of the north, later known as Batu Talikik.  
     The head and the hair also went to the north hills, to Rambut Pule.  
     The legs went to the west, Papuhan hill to Penambalan.  
     The spot where the horse died was christened Batu Jaran. 
     They purified these, and commemorated them for eternity with megalithic rocks.  
     Over the next few days, the corpse sent its odor far, expanding the borders of the gift-land as far as the eye could see. 
     Unbeknownst to the King's men, the Peneges people had slipped a bit of the corpse into the clothes of the soldiers, so the scent followed them everywhere.  
     The King's men were astonished by the distance the scent travelled, but when they considered it was Uccai Srawa, a spiritual horse, it seemed possible. A few days later, they returned to the kingdom.  
     Months later, the Peneges group brought their families to settle in what is now called Tenganan, from Ngetengahang, which means middle of the low plains, surrounded by hills.  
     As dictated by their oath, the Peneges clan lived Ápeacefully with each other; even to this day they marry only within their group, and abide by tradifional laws.  
     The Beratan clan who had been searching the north side of the Island were afraid to return to the kingdom without the horse. So they remained in the Singaraja area, establishing the village of Beratan. 
     "That, my son, is the story of Bali Aga and Tenganan village. The name Pegringsingan was given to Tenganan because that is where the double ikat gringsing sarong is made." The old man took a deep breath. His chest had expanded with the telling of the story  
     "How about another story, Father?" the son implored.  
     "We don't have time for the telling now. Soon it will be morning. It's better if we rest. When the sun rises we will gather fruit in the forest." The voice of the old man faltered.  
     "Many mangoes have fallen from the trees, and the law of this village says we cannot take the fruit which still hangs."  
     "Why, Father?" "We must wait until nature presents its gifts to us," he said as he rose and refastened his sarong which had loosened a bit.  
     The son followed suit, and soon they heard the "krosok" of a coconut falling down from a nearby tree.  
     The two were soon fast asleep in their wooden bed. Beside them the kerosene lamp still burned, its flame swaying as if it were dancing the secret dance of the night. The flame became smaller and smaller, little by little, and finally died. The oil was finished. 
Those were my observations from behind the bamboo wall.  
     My puddle has already been absorbed by the land. I enter the crust of the earth, and there I meet the spirits of many of my friends. Together we go to the stomach of the earth.  
     In the magma we converge and speak of many things. The atmosphere is similar to that of the conference of journalists at the United Nations-active! What we are speaking of is of no importance to human beings: it is off the record. Let that be our secret.  
     The next morning I go to the home of the father and son. They are not in. Their place is actually in Tenganan Pegringsingan. There are many buffalo wondering there. A few people are inscribing sacred lontar texts. There are some old women weaving the beaufiful double ikat cloth.  
     The homes of the people are very tidy. The land is held in common and belongs to all of the people. The village has an old, arfistic heritage.  
     I look for the father and son in the forest of the eastern hills. I see them collecting fallen mangoes and singing. I'm content to see them and return to Candi Dasa. I float among the hilltops, following the road.  
     I see some children playing with pinwheels in the peanut grove. Their parents are planting nearby.  
     The old people laugh while they work. Sweat pours out of them; their muscles are firm. They are full of happiness as they dig in the earth and plant their seeds. They plant with hope and idealism; they plant the seeds of their dreams. Nature will nourish their roots and swell their buds. She will sweeten the seeds to the farmer's taste.  
     Before midday I arrive in Candi Dasa and head straight to the beach. There are many tourists without clothes, despite the signs forbidding nudity Who is at fault?  
     I look carefully at the beach eroded by the sea. The sea eats the land bit by bit, as if it were dry bread. Coral, the protectress of the land, crumbles in weakness, almost killed by the lime makers. The ocean seems merciless. The owners of the homestays try to block her ferocity with sea walls.  
     I leave Candi Dasa beach and all her tourists. A few moments later I pass Balina, Sanur, and Kuta beaches. They're all the same! The beaches are all being eaten, little by little.  
     Whoosh ...! I fly to Lovina Beach following the north shore of Bali. I am relieved because here the sea loves the beach. She doesn't take, but adds more to the land year by year. I feel that she takes from the south and gives to the north.  
     With every circuit of the island, I pass one cursed building which from above, seems to be an aircraft carrier. One question nags me: why is this big ship on land?  
     Many times I check to make sure it is not a soap box. It is actually the Bali Beach Hotel. Even now I am not sure what it is for.  
     The sun begins to set violet in the west sky. Clouds pass as quickly as time. The farmers have returned home; the big monkeys at Sangeh forest gather at the top of the trees; the small ones hide in holes. The night animals begin searching for prey. The night people begin their day. Whoosh ... at lightning speed I fly back to Tenganan. I perch in the roof of the father and son's home, waiting for night.  
     As before, I peek in from behind the bamboo wall and listen to their story The father sits on a bamboo chair, his son near him.  
     "I'll tell you another part of the story, about the beginning of Tenganan village. 
     " The son nodded eagerly and leaned closer to listen...  
     At the beginning of the 11th century, Rabu, Keliwon Wara Pahang Madu Raksa, 1001 years after Christ, Mpu Kuturan, the Buddhist priest, came to Bali. He was also known as Betara Kuturan. He stayed at Silayukti, Padangbai. He was asked to come to Bali by the King Udayana and his Queen, who reigned from 988-1001.  
     It was hoped that he could quell the battles and make peace among the various Bali Aga sects of Hinduism. The majority of the people were of the Indra sect. The others followed Bayu, Khala, Brahma, Visnu and Syambhu.  
     Kuturan succeeded in unifying the sects into the Tri Murti, or essential Balinese religion, recognizing Brahma, Visnu and Shiva. He established the Kayangan Tiga temple system, and the Desa Adat.  
     For this, the people of Tenganan had great respect for Kuturan. They wanted to present him with a gift of ikat in Padangbai. They started out from Candi Dasa in a fishing boat, but they were hit by a storm at sea, and the boat sank.  
     Later, as a memorial to this incident, the people of Tenganan placed a large rock, shaped like a boat's mast (Batu Manggar) in Candi Dasa. 
     At times too, strange and violent things have happened in Tenganan.  
     One day, in 1841 AD, there suddenly appeared rolling clouds of smoke at Puseh temple.  
     A huge fire destroyed the temple and spread to the bale' agung, burning everything in its path. Most of the homes in Tenganan were destroyed. The sacred village writings, preserved on lontar palm leaf books, were lost in the fire. The people said, "Puhun tan ana, (without cause)," the fire began and that it was the will of God. Soon after, the village was rebuilt.  
     In 1970, gejor, an earthquake destroyed the entire village and again the people built it up. 
     "These, my son, are the things which have happened to our village," said the father in finishing.  
     "Don't you have just one more story, father?"  
     "Yes ... at midnight, exactly, I will tell you that story"  
     As I listen from behind the wall, I am filled with awe. I feel the mystery of Tenganan will be opened to me tonight. I feel grateful for the opportunity to hear this story. 
     Listen, the father begins!