<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046</id><updated>2024-11-01T18:24:12.216+07:00</updated><category term="Central Java"/><category term="Traditional"/><category term="West Java"/><category term="East Java"/><category term="Madura"/><category term="West Sumatra"/><title type='text'>Indonesian Traditional Story</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-5218990599464844099</id><published>2011-07-30T16:47:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T16:47:00.915+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java"/><title type='text'>Timun Emas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=1847737412&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Long time ago, lived an old women named Mbok Sirni.  She lived by herself because her husband had long passed away and she  had no children. Every day, she prayed so God would give her a child.  One night, when she was praying, a giant passed her house and heard her  pray. “I can give you a child on one condition,” the giant said to Mbok  Sirni, “You must give the child back to me when it is six years old.”  Mbok Sirni was so happy; she did not think about the risk of losing the  child later and agreed to take the giant’s offer. The giant then gave  her a bunch of cucumber seeds. “Plant it around your house.” The giant  then left without saying anything else. In the morning, Mbok Sirni  planted the seeds. The seeds grew within mere days, and blossomed  plentifully.Not longer after that, a big golden cucumber grew from  plants. Carefully, Mbok Sirni plucked the golden cucumber and carried it  home. With caution and care, she sliced the cucumber. She was very  surprised to see a beautiful baby girl inside the cucumber. She then  named the baby Timun Emas (it means Golden Cucumber). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Years passed by and Timun Emas  has grew to become a lovely and beautiful little girl. She was also  smart and kind. Mbok Sirni loved her very much. But she kept thinking  about the time the giant would take Timun Emas away from her. One night,  Mbok Sirni had a dream. In order to save Timun Emas from the giant, she  had to meet the holy man who lived in Mount Gundul. The next morning,  Mbok Sirni took leave of Timun Emas to go to Mount Gundul. The holy man  then gave her four little bags, each one containing cucumber seeds,  needles, salt, and shrimp paste. “Timun Emas can use these to protect  herself,” said the holy man to Mbok Sirni. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;A few days later, the giant came  to see Mbok Sirni about her promise. “Mbok Sirni! Where is Timun Emas?”  shouted the giant. &quot;My daughter, take these bag with you. It can save  you from the giant. Now, run through the back door,&quot; said Mbok Sirni.  But the giant saw Timun Emas running to the woods. The giant was angry.  Starved and enraged, he rushed toward Timun Emas. Mbok Sirni tried to  stop him, but the giant was unstoppable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;The giant was getting closer and  closer, so Timun Emas opened the first bag she got from Mbok Sirni.  Inside the bag were cucumber seeds. She threw the seeds, and instantly  they grew into large cucumber field. But the giant ate them all, giving  him more strength. As the giant was getting close, Timun Emas took the  second bag with needles inside and spilled the content behind her. The  needles turned into bamboo trees, sharp and thorny. The giant’s body was  scratched and bled. “Aaargh, I’ll get you, Timun Emas!” shouted the  giant as he tried to get himself out from the bamboo field. He made it  and still chasing Timun Emas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Timun Emas then reached the  third bag and spilled the salt inside. The ground which the salt touched  turned into a deep sea. The giant almost drown and had to swim to cross  the sea. After some time, he managed to get out from the water. Timun  Emas saw the giant coming, so she reached for the last bag. She took the  shrimp paste and threw it. The shrimp paste became a big swamp of  boiling mud. The giant was trapped in the middle of the swamp. The mud  slowly but surely drowned him. Helpless, he roared out, “Help!  Heeeeelp…!” Then the giant drown and died. Timun Mas then immediately  went home. Since then, Timun Emas and Mbok Sirni live happily ever  after.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/5218990599464844099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/timun-emas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/5218990599464844099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/5218990599464844099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/timun-emas.html' title='Timun Emas'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-2171425558546392992</id><published>2011-07-28T16:45:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T16:45:01.205+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java"/><title type='text'>Mouse Deer and Crocodile</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=1847737412&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;One day, Mouse Deer went down to the river to take a  drink. But he knew that the crocodile might be waiting underwater to eat  him, so he said out loud. “I wonder if the water’s warm. I’ll put in my  leg and find out.” Of course Mouse Deer didn’t put in his leg. He  picked up a stick instead and put one end into the water. Chomp…!  Crocodile grabbed the stick and pulled it underwater. Mouse Deer  laughed. “Ha… ha…ha… Stupid crocodile! Cant you tell the difference  between a stick and a leg?” Then Mouse Deer ran off to drink somewhere  else. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;In the next day, Mouse Deer  wanted to cross the river. He wanted to eat the fruits on the other side  of the river. He saw a floating log in the river. He knew that  Crocodile looked like a log when he floated. Mouse Deer didn’t want to  be eaten by Crocodile when he crosses the river. He had an idea. He  called out loud, “Crocodile!” Crocodile rose from the water, “Hello,  Mouse Deer. Have you come to be my lunch?” Mouse Deer smiled. “Sorry,  not today, Crocodile. I have orders from the King. He wants to invite  all the crocodiles in this river to a party. He wants me to count all  the crocodiles so he could prepare enough meal for you.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;“Really…? Tell us what to do,”  said Crocodile. “You must line up from this side of the river to the  other side,” said Mouse Deer. Crocodile then got all his friends and  family. They lined up across the river. Mouse Deer then jumped onto  Crocodile’s back. “One,” he counted. He jumped onto the next crocodile,  “Two.” And the next crocodile, “Three.” Mouse Deer kept jumping until he  arrived on the other side of the river. “How many are there?” asked  Crocodile. “Just enough,” said Mouse Deer. He laughed as he ran to the  forest.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/2171425558546392992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/mouse-deer-and-crocodile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/2171425558546392992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/2171425558546392992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/mouse-deer-and-crocodile.html' title='Mouse Deer and Crocodile'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-5564912254637543831</id><published>2011-07-26T16:44:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T16:44:00.657+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java"/><title type='text'>Loro Jonggrang</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B004E3XH4A&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Long time ago, there was a kingdom named Prambanan.  All the people of Prambanan lived peacefully. But then, Prambanan  kingdom was attacked and occupied by the Pengging kingdom. Prambanan  then was ruled by Bandung Bondowoso of Pengging kingdom. He was a mean  king. He also had great supernatural power. His soldiers were not only  humans, but also genies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot;&gt;The king of Prambanan had a  beautiful daughter named Loro Jonggrang. Bandung Bondowoso fell in love  with her and wanted to marry her. “You’re very beautiful. Would you be  my queen?” asked Bandung Bondowoso. Loro Jonggrang was shocked. She  didn’t like Bandung Bondowoso because he was a mean person. She wanted  to refuse, but she afraid that Bandung Bondowoso would be angry and  endangered the people of Prambanan. Then, she came up with a plan. “If  you want to marry me, you have to build a thousand temples for me in  just one night,&quot; said Loro Jonggrang. “What? That’s impossible!” said  Bandung Bondowoso. But he did not give up. He consulted with his  advisor. “Your Majesty can asked the genies to help built the temples,”  said the advisor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot;&gt;So, Bandung Bondowoso summoned  his entire genies soldier and commanded them to help him built a  thousand temples. The genies worked in unbelievable speed. Meanwhile,  Loro Jonggrang heard from her servant that the building of a thousand  temples was almost finished. She was so worried. But again, she came up  with a great idea. She asked all of her servants to help her. &quot;Please  prepare a lot of straw and mortar. Please hurry up!&quot; said Loro  Jonggrang. “Burn the straw and make some noise pounding the mortar,  quickly.” All those servants did what Loro Jonggrang ordered them;  burning straw and pounding the mortar, making the genies think that the  sun is going to rise. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot;&gt;“It’s already dawn. We have to  go,” said the leader of the genies to Bandung Bondowoso. All the genies  immediately stopped their work and ran for cover from the sun, which  they afraid of. They didn’t know that the light was from the fire that  burning the straw, not from the sun. &lt;/div&gt;Bandung Bondowoso can’t stop the  genies from leaving. He was angry. He knew Loro Jonggrang had just  tricked him. &quot;You cannot fool me, Loro Jonggrang. I already have 999  temples. I just need one more temple. Now, I will make you the  one-thousandth temple.&quot; He pointed his finger to Loro Jonggrang and said  some mantras. Magically, Loro Jonggrang’s body turned into stone. Until  now, the temple is still standing in Prambanan area, Central Java. And  the temple is called Loro Jonggrang temple.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/5564912254637543831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/loro-jonggrang.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/5564912254637543831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/5564912254637543831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/loro-jonggrang.html' title='Loro Jonggrang'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-3194786489364760339</id><published>2011-07-24T16:42:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T16:42:01.010+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java"/><title type='text'>Aji Saka</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0822344246&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;A long time ago there was a kingdom called Medang  Kamulan. The kingdom of Medang Kamulan was ruled by Prabu Dewata  Cengkar. The people in the kingdom were very scared by the king. It was  because the king liked to eat human flesh. Once a week, he commanded his  messenger, Patih Jugul Muda, to find him a human to eat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Far away from the kingdom of  Medang Kamulan, there was a village called Medang Kawit. A young man  named Aji Saka lived there. Aji Saka was a brave young man. He loved to  help people who needed help. One day, Aji Saka saw an old man lying  unconscious on the ground. The old man was wounded. Some thieves just  hit him and stole his money. Aji Saka then carried the old man to his  hut. Soon after, the old man started to regain consciousness. “Where…am  I?” he asked. “You’re in my house. You’re safe now,” said Aji Saka. It  turned out that the old man was from the kingdom of Medang Kamulan.  “Everybody was leaving Medang Kamulan,” the old man told Aji Saka. He  also told him about Prabu Dewata Cengkar’s bad habit. “We were  terrified, that’s why we left,” The old man said. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;After he heard the explanation  from the old man, Aji Saka decided to go meet Prabu Dewata Cengkar and  make him stop the menace. With his magical white turban on his head, Aji  Saka went to the kingdom. The turban was a gift from his Guru that  could be used to fight evil. On his journey to Medang Kamulan, Aji Saka  passed through a very dark forest where he met an evil genie. The genie  blocked his path. “If you want to get through this forest, you must be  my slave for ten years,” the genie demanded. Aji Saka refused to be the  genie’s slave. The two of them then fight for seven days and seven  nights, until at last Aji Saka came out as winner. The genie finally  allowed Aji Saka to pass through the forest. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;When Aji Saka arrived in the  kingdom of Medang Kamulan, the king was angry to Patih Jugul Muda. He  was not able to find the king some humans. “If you can’t find me any  humans, I’ll eat you instead,” Prabu Dewata Cengkar said to Patih Jugul  Muda. After Patih Jugul Muda left, Aji Saka revealed himself. Prabu  Dewata Cengkar’s eyes suddenly widened upon seeing Aji Saka. He could  already imagine how delicious his meat would taste. “Who are you?” asked  Prabu Dewata Cengkar. “I am Aji Saka from the village of Medang Kawit,”  Aji Saka answered. “Ha...ha...ha.... I’m glad you came here. You would  be my meal. I&#39;m starving,” said the king. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style28&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;“I would gladly let you eat me,  but I want something in return.” Aji Saka said. “What is it that you  want?” asked Prabu Dewata Cengkar. “I want a land as large as my  turban,” said Aji Saka. He then took off his turban and threw it on the  ground. Prabu Dewata Cengkar agreed. He himself would measure the land  with Aji Saka’s turban. Suddenly the turban grew bigger and bigger. It  just kept on stretching until it finally covered the whole kingdom.  Prabu Dewata Cengkar was angry. He then attacked Aji Saka. But, then the  turban wrapped itself around him and began to strangle him. The turban  then threw the king’s body to the South Sea. The waves carried Prabu  dewata Cengkar away until he finally drowned and died. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Aji Saka then asked the people  of Medang Kamulan to come back to the kingdom. They all thanked the  brave Aji Saka. They also agreed to make Aji Saka to be their king. Aji  Saka then ruled the kingdom wisely. Under the leadership of Aji Saka,  Medang Kamulan become a peaceful and prosperous kingdom.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/3194786489364760339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/aji-saka.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3194786489364760339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3194786489364760339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/aji-saka.html' title='Aji Saka'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-5477962359949039046</id><published>2011-07-22T16:41:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T16:41:00.489+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="East Java"/><title type='text'>Jaka Tarub and Nawang Wulan</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B0043M4TYY&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Jaka Tarub was a handsome and diligent young man. He  lived in a village near a lake. One day, when Jaka Tarub passed the  lake, he heard some giggles and laughs of some girls who were bathing in  the lake. He was curious, so he peeped through the bushes. There were  seven beautiful girls in the lake. They’re fairies from the heavenly  kingdom of kahyangan. Jaka Tarub saw a scarf near the bushes. It  belonged to one of the fairies. Jaka Tarub then took it and hid it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Crack!!! Accidentally, Jaka Tarub  stepped on a twig. “There’s someone!” said one of the fairies. “Let’s  get back. Hurry!” she said. They pulled over and wear their scarf.  “Where is my scarf?” one of the fairies couldn’t find her scarf. She was  the youngest fairy called Nawang Wulan. They tried to search for it,  but it was no where to be found. “We’re sorry, Wulan. We have to go back  to kahyangan,” said the eldest fairy. “You’ll have to find it by  yourself. We’ll wait for you in kahyangan,” she said in empathy. The  other fairies then flew to the sky leaving Nawang Wulan behind. Nawang  Wulan saw them leaving in tears. She was so sad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;“Excuse me …,” said Jaka Tarub,  startling Nawang Wulan. “Are you okay?” he asked. Nawang Wulan moved  backward, “Who are you?” she asked. “My name is Jaka Tarub. I was  passing by and I heard you crying, so I came to see what happen,” Jaka  Tarub lied. Nawang Wulan then told him about her problem. “I can’t fly  without my scarf,” she said. Jaka Tarub then asked Nawang Wulan to come  home with him. At first, Nawang Wulan refused the offer. But since she  didn’t have anywhere else to go, Nawang Wulan then decided to follow  Jaka Tarub. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Nawang Wulan stayed with Jaka  Tarub in the village. A month passed, and they decided to get married.  Nawang Wulan was willing to marry a human because she fell in love with  Jaka Tarub. After a year, they had a beautiful daughter. They named her  Kumalasari. They lived happily. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Jaka Tarub was also happy to live  with Nawang Wulan and Kumalasari. Especially because he always got a  lot of harvest since he married Nawang Wulan. He couldn’t even keep all  of his harvest in the barn because it was always full. “It’s so weird.  Nawang Wulan cooked everyday, but why is my barn always full,” Jaka  Tarub mumbled to himself. He was so curious. One day, Jaka Tarub stayed  at home. “I want to stay home today. I’d like to play with Kumalasari,”  he said to his wife. “Well, I’ll go to the river to wash the clothes.  Please keep an eye on Kumalasari,” asked Nawang Wulan. “I’m cooking rice  now. Please do not open the pan cover before it’s done,” she said just  before she left. “Could this be the secret?” Jaka Tarub thought. After  Nawang Wulan left, he curiously opened the pan cover. He found only one  single paddy. “How come?” he wondered. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Before lunch, Nawang Wulan came  home. She headed to the kitchen to see the rice she had cooked. She  found that the rice turned into only a few grains. “Did you open the pan  cover?” she asked her husband. “I… I’m sorry. I was curious,” Jaka  Tarub said as he realized his fault. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Ever since, Nawang Wulan had lost  her power. She couldn’t cook rice with only a single paddy. Their paddy  supply was slowly lessened. Their barn was almost empty. One day,  Nawang Wulan went to the barn to get some paddy. When she took one of  them, she found a scarf. “What’s this? This is my scarf,” said Nawang  Wulan startled. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;That night, Nawang Wulan asked  her husband about the scarf. Jaka Tarub’s eyes widened, “You found it?”  he asked. Jaka Tarub looked down and asked for her forgiveness. “Because  I’ve found my scarf, it’s time for me to go back to where I belong,”  Nawang Wulan said. Jaka Tarub tried to stop her, but Nawang Wulan had  made up her mind. “Please take good care of Kumalasari,” she said. “If  she wanted to see me, take seven grains of candlenut and put it into a  basket. Shake it as you play the bamboo flute. I’ll come to see her,”  she explained. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Jaka Tarub promised to take good  care of their daughter. He once again asked for forgiveness for all of  his mistakes. “I’ve forgiven you, so you don’t have to feel guilty. I  must go now. Take care,” said Nawang Wulan as she flew to the bright  full moon.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/5477962359949039046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/jaka-tarub-and-nawang-wulan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/5477962359949039046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/5477962359949039046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/jaka-tarub-and-nawang-wulan.html' title='Jaka Tarub and Nawang Wulan'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-8637445374087843983</id><published>2011-07-21T16:40:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T16:40:01.146+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West Java"/><title type='text'>Telaga Warna</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style32&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B004JHIBV0&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Long time ago there was a kingdom in West Java. The  kingdom was ruled by a king called Prabu. He was a kind and wise king.  Under Prabu’s leadership, the kingdom grew into a prosperous kingdom.  There’s no hunger in the kingdom. Everybody in the kingdom loved their  king. But, there’s one problem. The king and his queen hadn’t got any  children. It made the couple very sad. That was why Prabu decided to go  to the jungle. There, he meditated and prayed to God. Everyday he begged  for a child. His dream finally came true. A few months later, the queen  got pregnant. All people in the kingdom felt very happy. They sent many  presents to the palace to express their happiness. Nine months later a  baby girl was born. The baby grew as a beautiful teenager then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style32&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Prabu and his queen loved their  daughter so much. They gave what ever she wanted. It made the princess  grew into a spoiled girl. When her wish couldn’t be fulfilled, she would  be very angry. She even said bad things often. Even though the princess  behaved badly, her parents still loved her, and so did the people in  the kingdom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style32&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Time passed and the princess  grew more beautiful. In a few days, the princess would be seventeen  years old. That’s why people of that kingdom brought many presents for  her. They bring gold and beautiful jewelries. Prabu collected the  presents. Then Prabu stored them in a special room. Some times he would  take them to give to his people who needed it. Prabu only took a few  gold and jewels. Then he brought them to a goldsmith. “Please make a  necklace for my daughter,” said Prabu. “My pleasure, Your Majesty,” the  goldsmith replied. The goldsmith worked with all his heart and his  ability. He wanted to create the most beautiful necklace for the  princess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style32&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;The birthday came. People  gathered in the palace field. Then Prabu and the queen appeared. They  waved to their beloved people. Cheers were loud and louder when the  princess appeared. Everybody admired her beauty. Prabu got up from his  chair and took a small pillow. A beautiful necklace was on the pillow.  Prabu took that necklace. “My beloved daughter, today I give this  necklace to you. This necklace is a gift from people in this country.  They love you so much. They presented it for you to express their  happiness, because you have growing to a woman,” said Prabu. The  princess accepted the necklace. She looked at the necklace in a glance.  “I don’t want this necklace! It’s ugly!” shouted the princess as she  threw the necklace away. The necklace hit the floor and was broken. The  gold and jewels were spread out on the floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style32&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;No body dared to speak. They  never thought that their beloved princess would do such a cruel thing.  In their silence, people heard the queen crying. Every woman felt sad  and began crying too. Then everybody was crying. Suddenly, from the  middle of the field, a spring emerged. It quickly became a pool. The  palace was getting flooded. Soon the place became a big lake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Nowadays the water on that lake  is not as full as before. There is only a small lake now. People called  the lake Telaga Warna (it means lake of colour). On a bright day, the  lake is full of colour. These colors come from the reflections of  forest, plants, flowers, and sky around the lake. But some people said  that the colours are from the princess’ necklace, which spreads at the  bottom of the lake&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/8637445374087843983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/telaga-warna.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/8637445374087843983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/8637445374087843983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/telaga-warna.html' title='Telaga Warna'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-7248577205067803160</id><published>2011-07-20T16:30:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T16:30:02.142+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Traditional"/><title type='text'>Si Kancil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0804837333&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;In one beautiful day, si Kancil was out of his den. He was very   hungry. He wanted to go straight to the place where he usually looked  for food. Unfortunately, there was not much food left. Available food  couldn’t  fill his stomach. Eventually he decided to roam to other  places for food and he  arrived at a river bank.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Si Kancil saw plenty of food across the river, green grass grew,   trees were decorated with green leaves and ripe fruits. He drooled,  imagining how  delicious the food across the river was. Yet, he was  baffled how he could cross  the river because there was no bridge  joining the two banks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Then si Kancil tried to step into the river, just in case it was   shallow enough so he could cross it without any bridge. It was only one  of his  feet that had touched the water when it was caught by  crocodile’s jaws. Apparently  the crocodile had been watching him until  he was careless. Si Kancil’s  situation was critical, his life would end  with one movement from the crocodile, his  flesh would be a tender meal  for the crocodile. “I intended to search for delicious meal, but now I  end up become the delicious meal for the crocodile”, si Kancil thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;However, si Kancil was not a mere animal, his brain wit was as quick   as his movement. This wasn’t the first time he was in a critical  situation. It  was many times that his life was saved by his wit. While  his brain was working,  he saw a group of crocodiles were behind the one  which caught him and they were  also ready to chew his flesh. The  plurality of the crocodiles didn’t scare  him. Instead, it became an  opportunity for him to escape from death.&amp;nbsp; Then si Kancil started to  play his wit. “Dear crocodile, you should know that I  am here  voluntarily. I feel I’ve been living to long in this world, and now   I’ve made up my mind to end my life. I’ve also decided to distribute my  flesh  and my whole body to the crocodiles inhabiting this river. But I  make a  condition that my flesh must be distributed fairly and squarely  to all the crocodiles  here. Deal? All the crocodiles stunned for a  while, they were amazed by what  si Kancil had said. “Alright, Kancil.  if we are greed with what you’ve just said,  how are we going to do?”.  “Hmm … the trap starts to work,” si Kancil thought. “First, I have to  count how many crocodiles inhabiting  this river. If I already know the  number, I’ll be able to determine home much  of my flesh for each of  you. Therefore, you don’t need to fight one another.  “The crocodiles  seemed to be more interested in si Kancil’s explanation  because they  saw the advantage before them. as if they were charmed by si Kancil, the  crocodiles position themselves side from one river bank to the other.   Then, si Kancil executed his clever plan. While stepping on each  crocodile that  made a line on the river surface, he started to count,  “One … two … three …” and finally until the last crocodile…”bye-bye…”  and he quickly jumped to the river bank and ran&amp;nbsp; into the green, thick  bush leaving the crocodile stunned, realizing their stupidity&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/7248577205067803160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/si-kancil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/7248577205067803160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/7248577205067803160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/si-kancil.html' title='Si Kancil'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-8138198285723013127</id><published>2011-07-19T16:26:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T16:26:00.925+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Traditional"/><title type='text'>BAWANG MERAH DAN BAWANG PUTIH</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0743550595&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;In  village, live a widow with her two beautiful daughters, Bawang  Merah (Red Onion) and Bawang Putih (White Garlic). Bawang Putih’s real  father which was also the widows’s husband died long ago. Bawang Merah  and  Bawang Putih had opposite characters and personalities. Bawang  Putih was diligent, kind, honest and humble girl. Meanwhile, Bawang  merah was lazy, glamorous, proud and envious girl. Bawang Merah’s bad  personality was worsened because her mother spoiled her. The widow  always gave her everything she wanted. It was Bawang Putih who did all  the works in the house. Doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning,  essentially all works were carried out by herself. Meanwhile, Bawang  Merah and the widow just spent times making themselves up, because when  they needed something they could just ask Bawang Putih. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Bawang Putih never complained the bad fate she had to face. She  always served her step-mother and sister happily. One day, Bawang Putih  was doing her step-mother and sister’s laundry. Bawang Putih didn’t  realize it when a piece of cloth belonged to her mother was washed away  by the river. How sad was she, thinking that if the cloth couldn’t be  found she would be blamed, and it wasn’t impossible that she would bu  punished and expelled from home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Being afraid that her mother cloth could not be found, Bawang Putih  kept looking and walked along the river with its strong current. Every  time she saw someone by the river, she always asked him or her about her  mother’s cloth which was washed away by the river, but everyone didn’t  know where the cloth was. Eventually Bawang Putih came to a place where  the river flowed into a cave. Surprisingly, there was a very old woman  in the cave. Bawang Putih  asked the old woman if she knew of the cloth  whereabouts. The woman knew where the cloth was, but she made a  condition before she handed it to Bawang Putih. The condition was that  she had to work assisting the old woman. Bawang Putih was used to  working hard so that her work pleased the old woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;It was late afternoon and Bawang Putih was saying goodbye to the old  woman. The woman handed the cloth to her. because of her kindness, the  old woman offered her a gift of pumpkins. There were two of them, one  was larger than the other. Bawang Putih was asked to choose the gift she  wanted. She wasn’t greedy, there she chose the smaller one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Returning home, the Step-Mother and Bawang Merah were furious because  Bawang Putih was late. She told them what happened from the time her  mother’s cloth was washed away until her encounter with the old woman in  the cave. Her step-mother was still furious because she was already  late and only brought one small pumkin, so the mother smashed the  pumpkin to the ground. “Whack…” and the pumpkin was broken, but it was  miraculous that in the pumpkin  there were beautiful golden, jewel, and  diamond ornaments. The Widow and Bawang Merah were very schocked. They  could get very rich with that much jewelry. But greedy they were, they  yelled at Bawang Putih asking why she didn’t take the large pumkin  instead. In the Widow and Bawang Merah’s minds, if the larger pumpkin  was taken, they should get much more jewelry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Fulfilling their greed, Bawang Merah folowed the steps told by Bawang  Putih. She wilingly drifted her mother’s cloth, walked along the river,  asked people and eventually came to the cave where the old woman lived.  Unlike Bawang Putih, however, bawang Merah refused the old woman’s  order to work and She even arrogantly ordered the old woman to give her  the larger pumpkin. And so the old woman gave it to Bawang Merah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Bawang Merah happily brought the pumpkin that the old woman gave,  while imagining how much jewelry she would get. Returning home, the  Widow welcomed her beloved daughter. Not waiting for long, the pumpkin  was smashed to the ground, “whack …” but instead of the jewelry,  appeared various terrifying snakes. The Widow and Bawang Merah finally  realized what they did all this time was wrong and asked Bawang Putih to  forgive them. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/8138198285723013127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/bawang-merah-dan-bawang-putih.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/8138198285723013127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/8138198285723013127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/bawang-merah-dan-bawang-putih.html' title='BAWANG MERAH DAN BAWANG PUTIH'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-7599937472416944063</id><published>2011-07-18T16:19:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T16:19:00.390+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Madura"/><title type='text'>The story of Aryo Menak and his wife</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0964116812&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;As he got closer to the sound, Aryo Menak began to  crouch down and walk as quietly as he could. Finally he reached a small  stream and was amazed to see some fairies washing in the stream. He hid  in the bushes and watched them for a while because they were very  beautiful. Then he noticed that the fairies had left their shawls on the  ground near him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Now Aryo Menak was no fool. Like everybody, he knew  that fairies have magic shawls that let them fly, so he reached down and  took one of the shawls from the ground. Then he hid and waited.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Soon, the fairies finished washing and they gathered  up their shawls and flew away. All except the one whose shawl Aryo Menak  had stolen. As the fairy stood there in the cold light of the moon,  Aryo Menak stepped forward and told her that if she came home with him,  he would marry her and take care of her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;The frightened fairy agreed because she was afraid to be left on her own without her shawl. So they went home and were married.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Aryo Menak was a successful farmer who owned a lot of  rice fields. He and his wife were able to eat all of the rice that they  wanted and not only did they never run out, but their supply of rice  increased. His fairy wife told him that he could never go into the  kitchen when she wasn&#39;t there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Aryo Menak was curious and one day when his wife was  out he crept into the kitchen and looked around. When he lifted the lid  on the rice pot, he saw that there was only one grain of rice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Later that day his wife returned home and when she  checked the pot she saw that it hadn&#39;t filled with cooked rice. Straight  away she knew that Aryo Menak had looked in the pot. The magic wouldn&#39;t  work anymore and now she would have to work hard to prepare rice  everyday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;She was very upset and soon they started to run out  of rice. One day the fairy was getting more rice from the storeroom and  she saw the corner of her shawl hidden under the rice. She was so happy  to find her shawl because now she could go home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;As she flew away she called down to Aryo Menak and  told him, &#39;If you want to see me, look for me in the full moon. That is  where I will be&#39;. Aryo cried and cried, begging his fairy wife to come  back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;This is why even now men from Madura never cook rice.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/7599937472416944063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/story-of-aryo-menak-and-his-wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/7599937472416944063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/7599937472416944063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/story-of-aryo-menak-and-his-wife.html' title='The story of Aryo Menak and his wife'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-238026738043823036</id><published>2011-07-17T16:16:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T16:16:01.527+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West Sumatra"/><title type='text'>Malin Kundang</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=B0006HDI4W&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Once upon a time, on the north coast of Sumatra lived a poor woman and  his son. The boy was called Malin Kundang. They didn’t earn much as  fishing was their only source of income. Malin Kundang grew up as a  skillful young boy. He always helps his mother to earn some money.  However, as they were only fisherman’s helper, they still lived in  poverty. “Mother, what if I sail overseas?” asked Malin Kundang one day  to his mother. Her mother didn’t agree but Malin Kundang had made up his  mind. “Mother, if I stay here, I’ll always be a poor man. I want to be a  successful person,” urged Malin kundang. His mother wiped her tears,  “If you really want to go, I can’t stop you. I could only pray to God  for you to gain success in life,” said his mother wisely. “But, promise  me, you’ll come home.”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the next morning, Malin Kundang was  ready to go. Three days ago, he met one of the successful ship’s crew.  Malin was offered to join him. “Take a good care of yourself, son,” said  Malin Kundang’s mother as she gave him some food supplies. “Yes,  Mother,” Malin Kundang said. “You too have to take a good care of  yourself. I’ll keep in touch with you,” he continued before kissing his  mother’s hand. Before Malin stepped onto the ship, Malin’s mother hugged  him tight as if she didn’t want to let him go.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It had been three  months since Malin Kundang left his mother. As his mother had predicted  before, he hadn’t contacted her yet. Every morning, she stood on the  pier. She wished to see the ship that brought Malin kundang home. Every  day and night, she prayed to the God for her son’s safety. There was so  much prayer that had been said due to her deep love for Malin Kundang.  Even though it’s been a year she had not heard any news from Malin  Kundang, she kept waiting and praying for him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After several  years waiting without any news, Malin Kundang’s mother was suddenly  surprised by the arrival of a big ship in the pier where she usually  stood to wait for her son. When the ship finally pulled over, Malin  Kundang’s mother saw a man who looked wealthy stepping down a ladder  along with a beautiful woman. She could not be wrong. Her blurry eyes  still easily recognized him. The man was Malin Kundang, her son.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Malin  Kundang’s mother quickly went to see her beloved son. “Malin, you’re  back, son!” said Malin Kundang’s mother and without hesitation, she came  running to hug Malin Kundang, “I miss you so much.” But, Malin Kundang  didn’t show any respond. He was ashamed to admit his own mother in front  of his beautiful wife. “You’re not my Mother. I don’t know you. My  mother would never wear such ragged and ugly clothes,” said Malin  Kundang as he release his mother embrace.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Malin Kundang’s mother  take a step back, “Malin…You don’t recognize me? I’m your mother!” she  said sadly. Malin Kundang’s face was as cold as ice. “Guard, take this  old women out of here,” Malin Kundang ordered his bodyguard. “Give her  some money so she won’t disturb me again!” Malin Kundang’s mother cried  as she was dragged by the bodyguard, ”Malin… my son. Why do you treat  your own mother like this?”&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Malin Kundang ignored his mother and  ordered the ship crews to set sail. Malin Kundang’s mother sat alone in  the pier. Her heart was so hurt, she cried and cried. “Dear God, if he  isn’t my son, please let him have a save journey. But if he is, I cursed  him to become a stone,” she prayed to the God.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the quiet sea,  suddenly the wind blew so hard and a thunderstorm came. Malin Kundang’s  huge ship was wrecked. He was thrown by the wave out of his ship, and  fell on a small island. Suddenly, his whole body turned into stone. He  was punished for not admitting his own mother.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/238026738043823036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/malin-kundang.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/238026738043823036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/238026738043823036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/malin-kundang.html' title='Malin Kundang'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-3008658215412420651</id><published>2011-07-16T16:33:00.003+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T17:06:38.507+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Traditional"/><title type='text'>Keong Mas</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0756661315&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Once upon a time there was be a king  he wished to marry Dewi  Sekartaji .Dewi Sekartaji was the wife of panji  Asmoro Bangun. Then the  king kidnapped her. Fortunately, the god Narada  saved Dewi Sekartaji.  He turned her into a golden snail, Keong mas. The  God told Keong Mas to  drift along the river in order to find her  husband, Panji Asmoro  Bangun.&lt;br /&gt;
One day, a poor old widow, mbok Rondo Dadapan was fishing  along the  river. She found the golden snail and took it home. There,  she put the  snail in a jar and took good care of it. All of a sudden,  unexpected  good things took place in mbok Rondo’s life.&lt;br /&gt;
Every&amp;nbsp; time Mbok Rondo come back from her daily fishing.  She found  delicious dishes on the table. The house was clean, she could  not  resist the temptation. She wanted to find out who the mysterious  kind  person was. So one day instead of fishing. She peeped though a hole in  the wall of her house.&lt;br /&gt;
She saw &amp;nbsp;a beautiful princess. The princess was coming out of the jar  and starting to clean the house. The next day, without wasting any  time. Mbok Rondo rushed into&amp;nbsp; the house. She smashed the jar. The  princess could not turn back into a snail, then, Mbok Rondo adopted her.&lt;br /&gt;
Meanwhile,  Raden Panji Asmoro Bangun, searching for his wife.  Wandered from one  village to another. Finally, he found his beloved  wife. They went back  to their kingdom, taking the good Mbok Rondo along  with them</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/3008658215412420651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/keong-mas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3008658215412420651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3008658215412420651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/keong-mas.html' title='Keong Mas'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-1523384168868677408</id><published>2011-07-16T13:05:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T17:05:43.123+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West Java"/><title type='text'>Sangkuriang</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0822344246&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Long time ago in West Java, lived a beautiful girl  named Dayang Sumbi. She was also smart and clever. Her beauty and  intelligence made a prince from the heavenly kingdom of Kahyangan desire  her as his wife. The prince asked permission from his father to marry  Dayang Sumbi. People from Kahyangan could never live side by side with  humans, but his father approved on one condition, when they had a child,  the prince would transform into a dog. The prince accepted the  condition. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;They get married  and lived happily in the woods until Dayang Sumbi gave birth to a baby  boy. The prince then changed into a dog named Tumang. Their son is named  Sangkuriang. He was very smart and handsome like his father. Everyday,  he hunted animals and looked for fruits to eat. One day, when he was  hunting, Sangkuriang accidentally killed Tumang. His arrow missed the  deer he was targeting and hit Tumang instead. He went home and tells her  mother about the dog. “What?” Dayang Sumbi was appalled. Driven by  sadness and anger, she grabbed a weaving tool and hit Sangkuriang’s head  with it. Dayang Sumbi was so sad; she didn’t pay any attention to  Sangkuriang and started to cry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Sangkuriang feel sad and also confused. How can his mother love a dog  more than him? Sangkuriang then decided to go away from their home and  went on a journey. In the morning, Dayang Sumbi finally stopped crying.  She started to feel better, so she went to find Sangkuriang. But her son  was no where to be found. She looked everywhere but still couldn’t find  him. Finally, she went home with nothing. She was exhausted. She fell  asleep, and in her dream, she meets her husband. “Dayang Sumbi, don’t be  sad. Go look for my body in the woods and get the heart. Soak it with  water, and use the water to bathe, and you will look young forever,”  said the prince in her dream. After bathing with the water used to soak  the dog’s heart, Dayang Sumbi looked more beautiful and even younger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;And  time passed by. Sangkuriang on his journey stopped at a village and met  and fell in love with a beautiful girl.He didn&#39;t realize that the  village was his homeland and the beautiful girl was his own mother,  Dayang Sumbi. Their love grew naturally and he asked the girl to marry  him. One day, Sangkuriang was going on a hunt. He asked Dayang Sumbi to  fix the turban on his head. Dayang Sumbi was startled when she saw a  scar on his head at the same place where she, years ago, hit Sangkuriang  on the head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;After the  young man left, Dayang Sumbi prayed for guidance. After praying, she  became convinced that the young man was indeed her missing son. She  realized that she had to do something to prevent Sangkuriang from  marrying her. But she did not wish to disappoint him by cancelling the  wedding. So, although she agreed to marry Sangkuriang, she would do so  only on the condition that he provides her with a lake and built a  beautiful boat, all in one night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Sangkuriang  accepted this condition without a doubt. He had spent his youth  studying magical arts. After the sun went down, Sangkuriang went to the  hill. Then he called a group of genie to build a dam around Citarum  River. Then, he commands the genies to cut down trees and build a boat. A  few moments before dawn, Sangkuriang and his genie servants almost  finished the boat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Dayang  Sumbi, who had been spying on him, realised that Sangkuriang would  fulfill the condition she had set. Dayang Sumbi immediately woke all the  women in the village and asked them to wave a long red scarf. All the  women in the village were waving red scarf, making it look as if dawn  was breaking. Deceived by false dawn, the cock crowed and farmers rose  for the new day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Sangkuriang’s  genie servants immediately dropped their work and ran for cover from  the sun, which they feared. Sangkuriang grew furious. With all his  anger, he kicked the unfinished boat. The boat flew and landed on a  valley. The boat then became a mountain, called Mount Tangkuban Perahu  (Tangkuban means upturned or upside down, and Perahu means boat). With  his power, he destroyed the dam. The water drained from the lake  becoming a wide plain and nowadays became a city called Bandung (from  the word Bendung, which means Dam)&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/1523384168868677408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/sangkuriang.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/1523384168868677408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/1523384168868677408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/sangkuriang.html' title='Sangkuriang'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-3893093173248500505</id><published>2011-07-16T13:03:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T17:04:27.245+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="East Java"/><title type='text'>Cindelaras</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/Javanese-Gamelan-Traditional-Orchestra-Indonesia/dp/0195885821?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;Javanese Gamelan: Traditional Orchestra of Indonesia (Images of Asia)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;1&quot; src=&quot;http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0195885821&quot; style=&quot;border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;&quot; width=&quot;1&quot; /&gt;. Raden Putra was the king of Jenggala kingdom. He had  a beautiful queen and concubine. Unlike the queen, the concubine had  bad personalities. She was envious and jealous with the queen, so she  planned to make the queen leave the palace. The concubine then asked the  royal healer to help her in her plan. One day, the concubine pretended  to be ill. Raden Putra called the royal healer to give the concubine  treatments. “What is her disease?” Raden Putra asked the royal healer.  “I’m very sorry, My Majesty. She is sick because the queen put poison in  her meal,” the royal healer lied. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Raden Putra was shock and angry to hear the explanation. He called the  queen and asked her if the story was true. Of course the queen denied,  but Raden Putra won’t listen. “Please Your Majesty, have mercy. I really  didn’t do anything,” cried the queen in her tears. Raden Putra’s anger  ended in a decision. The queen should be banished to the woods and  terminated. He did not know that the queen was already pregnant. Raden  Putra commanded one of his general to do the punishment. The queen was  banished to the woods, but the wise general didn’t have the heart to  kill her. He built a simple house in the woods for her. On his way back  to the palace, he smeared his sword with rabbit blood, so Raden Putra  would believe that he had killed the queen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;After the general left, the queen lived by herself in the woods.  Several months later, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The baby was  named Cindelaras. He grew up as a nice, healthy, and handsome boy. One  day, while Cindelaras helped her mother to collect some fire woods, an  eagle dropped an egg. Cindelaras brought the egg to be brooded by a  chicken behind their house. The egg hatched into a chick and then it  slowly became a strong rooster. The rooster is no ordinary rooster. The  rooster could sing. Every morning, the rooster woke Cindelaras up with  its beautiful song, “My master is Cindelaras. His house is in the woods.  He’s the son of Raden Putra.” The rooster often sang that song. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Cindelaras always woke up early in the morning and listen happily to  his rooster’s song. He didn’t realize the meaning of the song until one  day, he started to think. “Who is Raden Putra?” he asked his mother. The  queen then told him the whole story. She also told him why they were  banned from the kingdom and lived in the woods. Cindelaras was very  surprised. He decided to go to the palace to meet the king, his father.  Cindelaras asked her mother’s permission to go to the kingdom and to  tell the king what really happened. He also brought his rooster that  grew bigger and stronger each day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;On his way, Cindelaras stopped at a village. There, he met some people  who were involved in cockfighting. They challenge him to see how strong  his rooster was. “If your rooster wins, you’ll get a reward,” said the  man who challenged him. Cindelaras accepted the challenge. In a few  minutes, his rooster defeated the opponent’s rooster. He was challenged  again by other man, and one more time, his rooster won. He won again and  again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;The news about  Cindelaras’ rooster quickly spread to the whole Jenggala kingdom and  made Raden Putra curious. So, he invited Cindelaras to the palace. “What  is your name, boy?” Raden Putra asked as Cindelaras arrived in the  palace. “My name is Cindelaras, Your Majesty,” Cindelaras answered. He  felt both thrilled and happy to see Raden Putra. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Raden Putra challenged Cindelaras with one condition. If Raden Putra’s  rooster won, Cindelaras’ head would be cut off. But if Cindelaras’  rooster won, Raden Putra would share half of his wealth. Cindelaras  accepted the condition. The competition was held in the front yard of  the palace. The two roosters fought bravely. But in just a few minutes,  Cindelaras’ rooster won the fight! Raden Putra shook his head and stared  at Cindelaras from his seat, “That rooster is no ordinary rooster, and  the boy is not an ordinaty boy either. Who is he exactly?” he thought.  Raden Putra was about to asked when suddenly Cindelaras’ rooster sang  the song, “My master is Cindelaras. His house is in the woods. He’s the  son of Raden Putra.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Raden  Putra was surprised. “Is it true?” he asked. “Yes, My Majesty. My name  is Cindelaras and my mother was the queen,” said Cindelaras. Raden putra  called the general who had banished the queen. The general then  confessed that he never killed the queen. Later, the royal healer also  admitted his mistake. Raden Putra was so shocked. He immediately went to  the woods to pick up the queen. Ever since, Cindelaras and his parents  lived happily together. As for the concubine, she was sent to the jail  as punishment.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/3893093173248500505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/cindelaras.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3893093173248500505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3893093173248500505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/cindelaras.html' title='Cindelaras'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-3245124833782148253</id><published>2011-07-16T12:48:00.001+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T17:02:32.023+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Central Java"/><title type='text'>Mouse Deer and Tiger</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=1857333438&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;One upon a time, there was a mouse deer living in a  forest. Although he was small, he wasn’t afraid of the other bigger  animals who wanted to eat him. He was so smart; he always managed to  ditch them. One day, a tiger was wandering around for food. He hadn&#39;t  been eating for days. He was really hungry. While he was walking in the  forest, he saw Mouse Deer. The tiger wanted to eat him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Tiger  slowly ducked, crawled, approaching Mouse Deer, then...&quot;Gotcha!&quot; said  Tiger. He caught Mouse Deer. “Hello, Mouse Deer! I’m really hungry right  now. You’ll be my lunch!” said Tiger. Mouse Deer didn’t want to be his  lunch. He tried to be calm. He looked around and saw some buffalo’s  dung. He had an idea. “I’m sorry, Tiger. I can’t be your lunch now. The  King has ordered me to guard his cake,” said Mouse Deer calmly. “His  cake?” said Tiger curiously. “Yes, there it is. It’s very delicious. The  King doesn’t want anyone else to eat it, so he ordered me to guard it,”  Mouse Deer pointed the buffalo’s dung. “Can I taste it?” Tiger asked.  “Of course you can’t. The King would be very angry,” said Mouse Deer  refused. “Just one little bite, Mouse Deer! The King will never know,”  said Tiger. “Well, okay, Tiger. But first let me run far away, so the  King won’t blame me,” said Mouse Deer. “All right, Mouse deer. You can  go now.” Mouse Deer ran quickly out of sight. Tiger then took a big  mouthful of the ‘cake’. “Phoooey!” He spit it out. “Yuck, that’s not  cake. That’s buffalo’s dung.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style27&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Tiger  ran through the forest. He caught up with Mouse Deer. “Mouse Deer, you  tricked me. But now you will be my lunch.” Mouse Deer looked around and  saw a wasp nest in a tree. “I’m sorry, Tiger. I can’t be your lunch now.  The King has ordered me to guard his drum,” said Mouse Deer calmly.  “His drum?” said Tiger curiously. “Yes, there it is. It has the best  sound in the world. The King doesn’t want anyone else to hit it,” Mouse  Deer pointed the wasp nest. “Can I hit the King’s drum?” Tiger asked.  “Of course you can’t. The King would be very angry,” said Mouse Deer  refused. “Just one little hit, Mouse Deer! The King will never know,”  said Tiger. ”Well, all right, Tiger. But first let me run far away, so  the King won’t blame me,” said Mouse Deer. “All right, Mouse Deer. You  can go now.” Mouse Deer ran quickly out of sight. Tiger then reached up  and hit the wasp nest. Bzzzzzzz…! “Ouch…ouch! That’s not a drum. That a  wasp nests!” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Tiger ran away.  But the wasps keep following him. He came to the river. He jumped in  and stayed underwater as long as he could. At last the wasps went away.  Then he jumped out. He ran through the forest till he found Mouse Deer.  “Mouse Deer, you tricked me again. But now you will be my lunch.” Mouse  Deer looked around and saw a cobra. The snake was coiled asleep on the  ground. “I’m sorry, Tiger. I can’t be your lunch now. The King has  ordered me to guard his belt,” said Mouse Deer calmly. “His belt?” said  Tiger curiously. “Yes. There it is. It’s the best belt in the world. The  King doesn’t want anyone else to wear it,” Mouse Deer pointed the  cobra. “Can I wear it?” Tiger asked. “Of course you can’t. The King  would be very angry,” said Mouse Deer refused. “Just for one moment,  Mouse Deer! The King will never know,” said Tiger. ”Well, all right,  Tiger. But first let me run far away, so the King won’t blame me,” said  Mouse Deer. “All right, Mouse Deer. You can go now.” Mouse Deer ran  quickly out of sight. Tiger then took the snake and started to warp it  around himself. The cobra woke up. It squeezed Tiger and bit him.  SSssssstt! “Oouch! Ow! Ooow! That’s not a belt! That’s a cobra! Help!  Mouse Deer! Help!” But Mouse Deer was already far away. He laughed  aloud. Mouse Deer was safe from Tiger now&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/3245124833782148253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/mouse-deer-and-tiger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3245124833782148253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3245124833782148253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/mouse-deer-and-tiger.html' title='Mouse Deer and Tiger'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3293372923133815046.post-3724239023877657975</id><published>2011-07-16T12:46:00.002+07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T17:01:11.189+07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="West Java"/><title type='text'>Lutung Kasarung</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe align=&quot;left&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;no&quot; src=&quot;http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=indonesi0d9-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=bpl&amp;amp;asins=0521542626&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr&quot; style=&quot;align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;Prabu Tapa Agung had led a kingdom in West Java for a  long time. He was getting old and therefore wanted to choose a  successor. But unfortunately, he had no son. He thought of choosing one  of his daughters, Purbararang and Purbasari. But it wasn’t an easy  choice. They were both very pretty and smart. The only difference was  their temperament. Purbararang was rude and dishonest, while Purbasari  was kind and caring. With those considerations, Prabu Tapa Agung finally  chose Purbasari to be his successor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Purbararang  didn’t agree with her father’s decision. “It’s supposed to be me,  Father. I’m the eldest daughter!” Purbararang said. Prabu Tapa Agung  smiled. “Purbararang, to be a queen takes more than age. There are many  other qualities that one must possess,” explained Prabu Tapa Agung  wisely. “What does Purbasari have that I don’t?” Purbararang pouted.  “You’ll find out when Purbasari has replaced me,” Prabu Tapa Agung  answered. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;After the  discussion, Purbararang went back to her room. “Is there something  wrong?” asked Indrajaya. Indrajaya is Purbararang’s future husband. “I’m  upset! Father chose Purbasari as his successor and not me! I have to do  something!” Purbararang said. Driven mad by her anger, she came to a  witch and asked her to send rash all over Purbasari’s body. Before going  to bed, Purbasari started to feel itch all over her body. She tried  applying powder to her body, but it’s no use. Instead, the itching grew  even worse. She didn’t want to scratch it, but she just couldn’t help  it. In the next morning, there were scratch mark all over Purbasari’s  body. “What happened to you?” asked Purbararang, pretending to be  concerned. “I don’t know, sis. Last night, my body suddenly felt very  itchy. I scratched and scratched, and this is what happened,” Purbasari  answered. Purbararang shook her head. “You must have done something  really awful. You’ve been punished by the gods!” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;That  day, the whole kingdom was scandalized. “What have you done,  Purbasari?” demanded Prabu Tapa Agung. Purbasari shook her head. “I  didn’t do anything that would upset the gods, Father,” she answered.  “Then how can you explain what happened to your body?” Prabu Tapa Agung  asked again. “If you don’t confess, I’ll banish you to the woods.”  Purbasari took a deep breath. “Like I said before, I didn’t do anything  wrong. And I’d rather be thrown into the woods than to confess to a deed  I didn’t commit.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;After a  short discussion with his advisor, Prabu Tapa Agung ordered Purbasari to  be moved to the woods. Purbasari was very sad, but she couldn’t do  anything to defy her father’s order. She was accompanied to the woods by  a messenger. He built a simple hut for Purbasari. After the messenger  left, suddenly a black monkey came to Purbasari’s hut. He carried a  bunch of bananas. From behind him, some animals looked on. “Are the  bananas for me?’ Purbasari asked. The black monkey nodded, as if he  understood what Purbasari said. Purbasari took the bananas with  pleasure. She also said thanks. The other animals that were looking on  also seemed to smile. “Are you willing to be my friend?” Purbasari asked  them. All the animals nodded happily. Although she was living by  herself in the woods, Purbasari never lacked of supplies. Everyday,  there were always animals bringing her fruits and fish to eat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;A  long time had passed since Purbasari was banished to the woods, but her  body still itched. At some places, her skin was even ulcerating. What  am I supposed to do?” Purbasari sighed. The monkey who was sitting next  to her stayed still, there were tears in his eyes. He hoped Purbasari  would remain patient and strong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;One  night, on a full moon, the monkey took Purbasari to a valley. There is a  pond with hot spring water. The monkey suddenly spoke, “The water of  this pond will heal your skin,” he said. Purbasari was surprised, ”You  can talk? Who are you?” she asked. “You’ll find out, in time,” the  monkey said. Purbasari didn’t want to force the monkey. She then walked  to the pond. She bathed there. After a few hours, Purbasari walked out  of the pond. She was shocked to see her face reflected on the clear pond  water. Her face was beautiful again, with smooth and clean skin.  Purbasari observed her entire body. There were no traces of any skin  ailments. “I’m cured! I’m cured!” Purbasari shouted in joy. She quickly  offered thanks to the gods and also to the monkey. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;The  news of Purbasari’s condition quickly spread to the kingdom, irritating  Purbararang. She then accompanied by Indrajaya go to the woods to see  Purbasari. Purbasari asked if she would be allowed to go home.  Purbararang said she would let Purbasari return to the palace if  Purbasari’s hair were longer than hers. Purbararang then let her hair  down. It was so long, it almost touched the ground. But it turned out  that Purbasari’s hair was twice longer than Purbararang’s hair. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;“Fine,  so your hair is longer than mine.” Purbararang admitted. “But there is  one more condition you must fulfill, do you have a future husband who is  handsomer than mine?” said Purbararang as she walked toward Indrajaya.  Purbasari felt miserable. She didn’t have a future husband yet. So,  without much thought, she pulled the black monkey beside her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Purbararang  and Indrajaya burst out, but their laughter didn’t last long. The  monkey meditates and suddenly transformed into a very handsome young  man, a lot more handsome than Indrajaya. “I’m a prince from a kingdom  far away. I was cursed to be a monkey because of a mistake I committed. I  could regain my true form only if there’s a girl who would be willing  to be my wife,” said the young man. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;style29&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;Finally,  Purbararang gave up. She accepted Purbasari as the queen, and also  confessed everything she had done. “Please forgive me. Please don’t  punish me,” Purbararang said, asking for forgiveness. Instead of being  angry, Purbasari smiled. “I forgive you, sis,” she said. Soon after,  Purbasari become queen. Beside her was the handsome prince, the former  monkey known as Lutung Kasarung.***&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/feeds/3724239023877657975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/lutung-kasarung.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3724239023877657975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3293372923133815046/posts/default/3724239023877657975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://indonesiantraditionalstory.blogspot.com/2011/07/lutung-kasarung.html' title='Lutung Kasarung'/><author><name>Choiruddin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09189201416812986183</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI2HYUuYQaMEcJSiulPVXiwr4nmy7DLKWAv1jOJRAO4MPZKWHpaKF9gNYwlATLKfwZkBJ-Qdr7gOLLthKdJ3-Lg5H2VK6T37xA9dWYXIUbM9l-H8QlnYf1IpOfCtMEtw/s220/SP_A0653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>