The beautiful Ani, who rented the room next to Kadek, was a beautiful Madurese woman, but more urgently, she was also the victim of Kadek’s frequent peeping. A reputed scoundrel in Bali, but now a migrant in Jakarta, Kadek had few friends and fewer options of a suitor, but beautiful Ani had captured his imagination.
In his mind it was settled, he would find a way to make Ani his – Ah! But he would surely have to convert. Would it matter? He was so far from home, he could not care for his ancestors, gods and the spirits of his home in Gianyar, Bali, yes he believed in karma-pala, fruit of good deeds, but oh how he loved Ani. So, he pursued her, and began to learn her ways: the splashings of water, the ablutions, to the bowing prayers. Little did he know that his call for love became his call of faith, so with an adult circumcision and the reading of Arabic script, it was done. He consoled himself by recounting an old saying a Hindu Brahmin once told him: all religions are the same, the ways to God are many. To Kadek, this way was desire and beauty. Oh God!
So, in a swift adaptation, one powered by love, I Kadek Nuratin became Ahmad Nur-I-Din, a responsible Muslim man. Twenty years later, he would have raised two of his own daughters, dressed in the white woman’s garb for prayers – teaching them to better resist the calls of wily Balinese boys like he once was! He was truly devout. Alas, Kadek-turned-Ahmad died at fifty years of age, his body was wrapped in a white caftan, taken to the nearby Priok cemetery and, after a few prayers to the One God, his body was made to face the holy city of Mecca forever. His soul would rest in peace forever.
At least, this was what his Jakarta family thought.
Because to the Balinese, Balinese souls, even if they have turned “Muslim,” do not follow the prophet’s rules. But nobody knew it yet.
Back in Gianyar, very few had noticed Kadek’s departure to Jakarta. He was the second son of a lost father, and even as a child he was a nuisance and scoundrel. His older brother, I Wayan Dobler, thought it was perhaps better Kadek was gone, hearing rumours that he had married in Jakarta. He never returned to claim inheritance. Now, the news had spread that he was dead and buried.
Life in the village was hard, but tourism had improved prospects. Pan Dobler’s daughter, Putu Niniek, had been able to buy a motorbike from her work at one of Ubud’s river restaurants. One day, she fell and broke her leg near Tengkulak crossroads on the way from Pejeng – but she still had money for her treatments too. All was well again, until she came under the spell of this skunk of a man, Kemprot. She would mumble funny things in her sleep too. Pan Dobler was concerned.
It was only when his wife, Men Dobler, had been bitten by a dog, and taken to Denpasar for anti-rabies shots, did he become alarmed. There was something amiss in the family, there were too many accidents and misfortunes! He had to find out what was wrong, and so a visit to the balian tetakson (shaman priest) was due – a good one could be found in Tembuku, his neighbour had advised him.
The famous mangku received them two days later. They entered the dark house, discreetly gave a pejati offering to THE helper – the customary 100,000 rupiah slipped underneath the flowers – and sat in the lotus position next to the powerful balian. The latter did not utter a word: he smiled at them, lit a stick of incense, and started uttering a mantra, the smoke wafting up past his nose toward the higher world. Suddenly, “it” was there, shivering. A roaring voice came from the bottom of the priest’s throat: “My children, I have been waiting for your visit for a long time. Why is it only now that you pay attention to your kinsman, who is lost and wandering in the void?” The family was petrified: it was a lost and erring soul. The voice roared again, threatening and imploring at the same time. “Help me, help me. If you don’t, I shall wreak havoc in your world of humans.” They were transfixed. But Dobler did not have to wait long to understand what it was all about: it was his “Jakartan” brother Kadek’s voice asking for help. Kadek was dead, and his soul could not find its way to the ancestral abode of the Balinese souls because it had not received the proper rites. It was stuck somewhere between the human world and the entrance to the purgatory guarded by Sang Suratma. Everything was clear now: Putu Niniek’s accident, the black magic advances of Kemprot, Men Dobler’s dog bite… The cause of all this was Kadek’s lost soul. He had to be taken out of there. His soul had to be liberated.
After consultation with family members, it was decided, out of fear, to take Kadek’s soul out of its conundrum. Kadek’s soul was called up, released and, using the right symbols, made to undergo a cremation with all the post-cremation steps until it too could find its way to the ancestral abode above the mountain—this time unimpeded. So, Kadek’s soul is now among the ancestors revered in Bali by Dobler’s family.
This raises an important question: is it the first time a dead soul can at once enjoy both an Islamic paradise and be tortured through a Balinese purgatory? As that Hindu Brahmin had said: the ways to God are many!
