The ancient ruins of the Bujang Valley lie still. Mute and voiceless. And yet, there are those who say that they speak. They whisper of long-forgotten wars and fierce battles. Of the joys and woes of those who once walked in their shadows. Of prosperous merchants from faraway lands. Of bygone glories of an ancient kingdom. They hint at fragmented recollections so old that even the eldest of our elders might disown them.
It was in the hope of seeking these broken memories that I embarked on that lonesome journey to the desolate district of Merbok, in the state of Kedah that fine sunny morning. As I negotiated the unmarked and unfamiliar roads, I mused: will I hear the bricks and stones of the Bujang Valley murmuring their secrets? Will they tell me their story?
***
The Valley and the Lost Kingdom
Exiting the North-South Highway at Gurun to get to the valley, I got lost a few times. But as foreign merchants a thousand years ago had done when they steered their vessels into the calm, welcoming waters of the Merbok river, I let myself be guided by the ever-visible bulk of Mount Jerai. At the foot of the mountain - long venerated as a dwelling of the gods - lies the hill of Batu Pahat, where the Archaeological Museum of the Bujang Valley and one of the main clusters of the valley’s ancient ruins are located.
In Merbok, I turned into the inconspicuous and unimaginatively named Jalan Muzium Arkeologi leading up to the Archaeological Museum. Failing to find a shade, I parked in the afternoon heat. A large green bilingual notice board on the way up to the white-washed building of the museum provided some background information on Bujang Valley. With sweat pouring down my back, I naturally stopped in a nearby shade. I looked longingly at a waterfall nearby, but resisted the impulse to peel off my clothes and wade in its cool waters. I turned my attention back to the board and started reading.
The Bujang Valley consists of three spectacular geographical points: Mount Jerai and the surrounding hills towards the north; the plains between the Merbok and Muda rivers in the south; and part of the rustic Kedahan coastline on the west. Archaeological sites all over the valley - around 50 of them excavated to date – point to the existence of a vibrant trading kingdom in the area from the 5th to the 14th century C.E., with the Merbok River estuary serving as its entrepôt. Discovery of Indian beads, West Asian glassware and Chinese ceramics - is it just me, or has anyone else also noticed this most incorrigible habit the Chinese seem to have of leaving broken ceramics wherever they went? - attests to the kingdom's importance as an international trading post.
As I walked up towards the museum I noticed a number of white pavilions here and there, built no doubt to provide respite from the sweltering afternoon heat. Each of these pavilions had a sign bearing the various ancient names of the long-forgotten kingdom, for the old kingdom was dubbed with several monikers (a case of bad branding?). Tamil speakers called it Kadaram and – when the mood suited them – Kalagam. The Arabs also seemed to have been of two minds about naming the place, sometimes referring to it as Kalah, and sometimes Qalha. In Sanskrit, it was given the magnificent and elaborate name Katahanagara, while in Chinese it was known simply as Chieh’ Cha.
Excavation works have unearthed numerous religious buildings, sanctuaries, palace halls of audience, fortifications and other unidentified buildings, all of which may only begin to hint at the vibrant culture and the colourful life in the ancient kingdom. The 7th century Sanskrit drama Kaumudimahotsava makes mention of the Kingdom of Kataha, which was famed for its social attractions and gaiety of life. A collection of Indian stories called Katahasaritsagara talks of the elegance of life in Kataha, giving it the sobriquet "the seat of all felicities". In short, Kataha was one cool and happening place. It was fun and full of action. It was the place to be.
Alas, as Kataha's renown and commercial importance grew, it became enmeshed in the political power plays in the region. Setbacks in its political dealings with the regional super power Sriwijaya and destruction wrought by the vicious raids of the marauding kings of the south Indian kingdom of Chola spelt the beginning of the end for the kingdom. By the end of the 14th century, Kataha was no more.
Nonetheless, faded traces of its memories linger. Today, a modern-day kingdom under the slightly modified name of "Kedah" stands where Kataha's name and authority once held sway. The descendants of ancient Kataha may have forgotten much, but fragments of confused memories of the ancient kingdom remain. Indeed, when my grandmother - who lives in a little village on the bank of the Kedah river - uses the Malay word "bah" to describe the flood that hits her village every few years, she's probably invoking an ancient word that had been passed down by her forebears through an unbroken line across the centuries. It may all have started with someone hearing the Indian traders 15 centuries ago using the Sankrit word "vah" to describe a rapid flow of water.
The Museum of Ancient Whispers
I entered the museum and immediately fell into that dreamy state that often befalls those who occasionally wish time travel was possible. There is something about being around old things that stirs the desire to go back in time, visit long-forgotten realms and speak to long-dead people. I cautiously picked my way around the numerous artefacts on display and reverently studied every jag and kink.
A look in one direction revealed the inscription of a sea captain’s prayer for safe sailing, while a glance in another revealed a miniature deity once worn as a talisman around someone’s neck. Here and there, I saw personal belongings that were buried together with the dead. Strings of beads that must have once adorned a maiden’s wrist, in one corner, and votive tablets and gold bracelets in another. Selected pieces of ancient buildings were also on display: parts of the plumbing mechanism used to supply holy water in the temples; pillar bases that came in all shapes and sizes, stone wedges; the unmistakably penile form of the Shivaite linga and its companion, the yoni; and the ubiquitous chunks of granite and laterite bricks.
I stared and squinted until my eyes ached, trying to take it all in. Would strangers a thousand years from now also stare at our personal trappings and the broken pieces of our floors and walls, intensely wondering about us and the life we lead? Would they, like me, also hear the urgent whispers and deep sighs of long-dead men and women faintly echoing through the ages?
The museum also housed models of the main temple complexes that have been unearthed. They come in different sizes and geometric layouts: contiguous squares, slanting rectangles, lone octagons. The variety of architectural designs partly reflect Kataha's shifting - and at times converging - religious and cultural allegiances. By the 5th century C.E., Buddhism had predominated over native animistic beliefs, only to be superseded later by Hindu Shaivism. By the 9th century however, Buddhism made a comeback, with later additions of Mahayana Buddhist shrines in the kingdom to boot.
But true to the character of this land that would later become the often-ambiguous Malaysia, cultural and religious lines were not always clear. The temple found on Batu Pahat hill itself seems to blend Hindu and Mahayana Buddhist elements in a manner that has no exact equivalent in India, while clearly retaining a local architectural style.
As fascinated as I was with the models, I made my way out of the museum. It was time to see the real thing.
A Ruin With a View
The hill of Batu Pahat is home to four clusters of temple ruins. One - appropriately named Candi Bukit Batu Pahat - was discovered and preserved in situ, while the other three were transported brick by brick from nearby areas and reconstructed on the hill. The practice of moving ancient ruins and reconstructing them on another site was the result of the preservation philosophy that prevailed during the early excavations. (Thankfully, a shift in the approach to preservation has seen later sites being preserved and restored in situ.)
I reverently climbed the hill, mentally rattling off the names of the temples. Candi Kampung Pendiat. Candi Pangkalan Bujang. Candi Bukit Batu Pahat. Candi Bendang Dalam. The wooden parts of the temples had long disintegrated and only the stone base and foundations were left. But the original design and layout of the buildings were not difficult to make out. It was easy to imagine priests and nobles of yore enjoined in prayer in these recesses and shadows. Or piles of offerings placed at the base of the altar to the gods. Or the sound of the soma - the holy liquid of the gods - flowing through the small stone channel affixed to the side of the temple floor.
Dreamily, I walked around in circles. I squinted and stared and took pictures from every imaginable angle. I climbed and trod on every brick and stone. And then, perched on the edge of what must have been the main entrance to a temple, I looked around, my eyes taking in the imposing silhouette of Mount Jerai, the nearby waterfall, the blue sky and the surrounding hills. The view was stunning. Is it any wonder that someone decided to found a kingdom in this nook of the world 15 centuries ago?
My pilgrimage completed, I made my way downhill towards the carpark.
***
I climbed further, to the far end of the temple ruins located towards the hill’s summit. I saw a pair of lovers finding refuge in the leafy shadows of what looked like a jejawi tree, but I was otherwise alone. Ignoring the bright afternoon sun, I sat down at one of the corners of the temple floor. Apart from the cool breeze descending from the peak of the holy mountain and the rush of water in the nearby waterfall, there was hardly any sound.
And there, at a spot where one of my very own ancestors may have even sat, I pricked my ears and closed my eyes. And listened.
References
Kataha and Kadaram, Sabri Zain
A History of Malaysia, Barbara Watson Andaya and Leonard Y. Andaya
The Kingdom of Sriwijaya, George Coèdes
Related posts:
Bujang Valley Photo Album
Bujang Valley: The Tourist Brochure
Lovely writing, Fazu! I enjoyed this one alot. Know what you mean by time travel, everytime I go to museums, I wonder how it was really like back then? And the people who used to own the items and artefacts, what were they like? How did they spend their days, how they spoke, married, etcetera etcetera. And of course being morbid, I also wonder how they died and were buried. If I could time travel, I would love to go back to the days of the prophets - see Moses part the sea, Jesus cure the lepers and Muhammad make that Hijrah. Cos the stories in the bible and quran now seem so long ago that they become almost 'mythical' you know what I mean - it'll be nice to see that these stories actually happened. (Great, I think I've just set myself as future target for religious hate mails ;P )
Posted by: epicurious | December 12, 2004 at 09:42 PM
perghhhh. superb pic la. good angle. good writing too. tak pernah ler samiapi kat lembah bujang ni. just read from the history text book je. :(
Posted by: kno | December 16, 2004 at 07:38 AM
epi: Thanks for the kind words epi. I'm not even thinking about going back to Jesus' and Muhammad's time. If I could just go back to the time when they built my grandmother's old wooden house, I would already be quite happy. I'm trying to imagine the pre-Islamic rites and the ceremonies and see my people i know (grandma & grandpa) involved in them.
kno: thanks for the kind words. particularly re: the pictures. Coming from you, that's one big humongous compliment.
Pegilah sekali-sekala kat lembah bujang tu. jangan asyik dok terperap kat selatan semenanjung je.
Posted by: fazu | December 16, 2004 at 10:43 PM
I would love to go climb up the Mount of olives and watch the Al-Aqsr Mosque from there.
And then try to imagine the Buraq sweeping across the star filled skies.
and then try to contemplate whether or not people of the holy land can actually co exist with each other withour fear and mis trust.
one can only dream at the moment.
Posted by: my name is fake | December 20, 2004 at 05:57 AM
It's glad to know that Lembah Bujang is still enchanting (which I cant say for most of the heritage sites in Malaysia that were sacrificed in the name of tourisM) as it was when I was there way back in 1989. A well written post that rightly did justice to the Bujang Valley and the Merbok estuary.
Posted by: KaiserSoze | December 23, 2004 at 04:01 AM
Thanks for the kind words, KaiserSoze, and welcome to the site!
Posted by: fazu | December 24, 2004 at 10:03 PM
Great post, thank you. All of this is only a message to the world about loving, faith and friendship- no harm or bad stuff, and sure, also in Israel, the holy land!
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This part of continent has its own uniqueness when it comes to their culture.
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