Semar
A Short Story by Putu Wijaya
The barrel of every weapon is trained on the enemy. The moment is poised on the edge of action, ready to erupt with even the slightest movement—the signal to fire is no longer necessary. Rifle triggers and missile controls are already set to respond in an instant. Before the enemy can take a breath we will wipe out their entire besieging force. And our country shall again be at peace.
Only should the enemy, beyond our expectations, be ready to counter the attack we launch with cutting-edge technology, with technology at least decades superior to our latest inventions, known only to the Commander and His Majesty. In other words, more so than in all previous wars we are certain to prevail in this one, even before the battle has begun. That is a fact.
It is for this reason, nothing can stand in the way now, at key flash points along the battlefront where we shall secure complete victory, preparations are already underway for victory celebrations. A thousand of the outside world’s top celebrities have been invited to the festivities. Just a few more seconds remain.
But oddly enough, as we approach the climax, time seems to slow. It drags its feet, as if to mock us, makes us suffer from the impatience.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, threeeeee, twooooo…
Suddenly, His Majesty shouts: “Stopppp!”
Like a bolt from the blue, His Majesty’s command shatters the tension.
What happened? Why stop?
Willing to sacrifice life and limb, every solider is stunned.
“Why would the King delay the inevitable victory, already within our grasp? Is he afraid of defeat?”
Semar answers: “Sorry, my friend. His Majesty is a true knight. He fears neither defeat nor victory. But like the great Mahabharata epic that was staged worldwide by Peter Brook in the Bharatayudha episode, defeat turns to ashes, and victory turns to dust. War glorifies leaders, but devastates the common people. That is why the King prefers peace—to spare the people. After all, peace is cheap and easy.”
“Seriously?”
“Haven’t you checked YouTube?”
“What’s in that one?”
“It’s just been announced—the King’s son and the enemy’s daughter are to wed!”
“No way!”
“Yes! It’s already gone viral!”
“So. No war?”
“Why fight your in-laws? We’re allies now. The people shouldn’t be sacrificed for the sake of their leaders.”
“So, we’ve got to make peace with the enemy?”
“What enemy? We’re family now. Wait!”
“Oh, so it’s fear of defeat, rush to diplomacy out of shame? Old-fashioned nonsense!”
Semar smiles.
“It may appear old-fashioned. But look closer. Beneath the surface there’s profound nobility. The King doesn’t care if people call him old-fashioned. What matters to him is that safety and prosperity belong to everyone, not just the few. What’s the point of winning, if tens of thousands die, if people are wounded and traumatized for life? What’s the point of victory if decades of building a nation collapse into rubble? And then, what strength remains to continue building after war has drained our souls? What strength do we have left when our spirit is exhausted? We shall grow weak, want to retire early, forget our duties, and worst of all—forget that wolves and petty tyrants have been lurking, hungry for power. They’ve been drooling over our wealth while gorging on rocks and filth. Once we’re weakened they will pounce, devouring us alive to satiate their long-held grudge. That’s the reason His Majesty recognizes that our most dangerous enemies are not outside our borders, but among us, hidden, biding their time. When we are strong, they cower. When we are weak, they will swallow us whole without a second thought. So…”
“Enough ranting, Semar!”
“Sorry, I choked. Anyway, that’s what the King seeks to prevent. Not to preserve a dynasty—far from it! He’s seen the dark stain of dynastic rule, built on rivers of blood, injustice, and a travesty of democracy. He’s seen people bewildered, enraged, and heartbroken, wondering why their idol King has suddenly slammed on the brakes. But the King remains calm. His priority now is to seal every backdoor that predators might use to infiltrate and torment the people. His gamble is… Just a few more words. By marrying his son to the enemy’s daughter, he has created the illusion of preserving the dynasty. But it’s all a cover—to lock out rivals and enemies alike…”
I wake up. My wife and child have arrived home from the mall.
“Wake up! It’s late. I’ve brought you some ketoprak!”
She pulls my hand to take the food.
“Eat up, then take your medicine. You haven’t eaten, have you? You know they found the mysterious killer in Subang? Turns out it was her own husband! Can you believe what a good actor he was?”
I am still groggy, I can’t focus on my favorite ketoprak. I try to recall the story of Semar that has just been interrupted.
My wife approaches me.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it? Our usual food vendor is out of town. This is from another place. It’s good.”
“I just met Semar…”
“What?”
“He said…”
“Who? Semar?”
“Yes. He said it’s not what it seems. It looks like it is, but it isn’t.”
“Not what?”
“It’s not!”
“It’s not what!?”
“The appearance is just a trick, a distraction. The real plan is to fool the people waiting for us to collapse. The real enemy is locked out now. That’s the great victory—a victory without pain or loss, paving the way to a Golden 2045. That’s what Semar said!”
My wife stares at me, then glances at our child.
Our child, already seasoned from my two-month stay in hospital, moves quickly.
“I saw him too!”
“Who?”
“Semar!”
My eyes widen.
“Really?”
“Yes! Why would I lie?”
I laugh. “What did he say?”
My child pauses, then repeats my own words:
“Don’t believe what you think you know. Believe what history itself records, written by no hand but its own, untouched by self-serving interests.”
I’m dumbstruck. My words, thrown back at me, have become prophecy.
Without another word I leap back into bed.
“Don’t go back to bed!” my wife shouts. “Have something to eat. And take your medicine! Stop hallucinating!”
“Later! I need to tell Semar: Don’t believe what you think you know. Believe what history itself shall write… For now, at least.”
Putu Wijaya was born April 11 1944 in Puri Anom Tabanan, Bali. Tempo magazine journalist/editor, writer, film and theater director. He has written over 40 novels, 50 plays, 100 monologues and 1,000 short stories. His awards include Doctor Homoris Causa from the Indonesian Art Institute (ISI) Yogyakarta, as well as numerous national awards, awards from FFI, DKJ, IKJ, Koran, SEA Writers Festival, Fullbright, Habibie Award, Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, among others. He founded Mandiri Theater in 1971.
The current version of Semar is based on the short story Semar by Putu Wijaya published in Kompas daily newspaper on December 24, 2023 and retrieved from https://ruangsastra.com/32292/semar/ on December 31, 2024. Featured image credit: Mahabharata from starplus.in via https://www.viva.co.id/arsip/550413-mengukur-kekuatan-kurawa-di-perang-baratayudha Oleh Beno Junianto.
Stories From Indonesia 
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