Becoming a Bhairava in 19th-century Java

ABSTRACT

This article is a preliminary exploration of suluk texts aiming at advancing P.J. Zoetmulder’s ideas with respect to the Indic origins of some characters and doctrinal elements in Javanese mystical texts. It will identify possible continuities between Indic and Islamic paradigms, thereby revisiting and rebalancing scholarly perspectives that have stressed the Sufi origins of Javanese Islam – or uncritically posited its inherent, yet nebulous, ‘Javaneseness’ – at the expense of its being situated in, and indebted to, a context of religious discourses and practices rooted in the Indic paradigm. Having introduced and evaluated Zoetmulder’s hypotheses about the figures of the santri birahi and Lĕbe Lonthang, it will analyse some passages of suluk that show indebtedness to ideas stemming from a pre-Islamic tantric fund. It will then link the figure of heterodox Muslim mystic Siti Jĕnar to other antinomian characters described in Javanese literature, and contextualise them against the background of the wider issue of the synthesis between Hindu-Buddhist (tantric) and Islamic (Sufi) identities in Java.

KEYWORDS:

• Islam
• Javanese mysticism
• Modern Javanese literature
• Old Javanese literature
• suluk
• Tantra

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Acknowledgements

The research resulting in this article was carried out with the support of a collaborative research grant programme sponsored by Columbia University and PSL University (ANR-10-IDEX-0001-02), as well as an International Collaborative Research Grant Program of the American Academy of Religion. I thank Verena Meyer for her partnership in both projects.

Note on contributor

Andrea Acri (PhD Leiden University, 2011) is Assistant Professor in Tantric Studies at the École Pratique des Hautes Études (PSL University, Paris). His academic interests include Śaiva and Buddhist tantric traditions in South and Southeast Asia, as well as wider cultural and historical dynamics involving intra-Asian connectivity. His monograph Dharma Pātañjala (Egbert Forsten/Brill 2011, 2nd edition Aditya Prakashan 2017) has been recently translated into Indonesian (EFEO/KPG 2018).

ORCID

Andrea Acri http://orcid.org/0000-0001-9633-829X

Notes

1 Ricklefs (2007: 32) regards this as an ‘invaluable work’, in which Zoetmulder brought to the study of suluk literature, ‘a philosophical rigor that has yet to be surpassed’.

2 In doing so I rely on the authority of Feener (1998), who warns against the tendency to overestimate the importance of Sufism and its influence on Islam in Java; cf. Ricklefs (2007: 41) on what he perceives as an overemphasis on the direct influence of al-Ghazali on Mangkunagara IV.

3 Studies highlighting the accommodation of Java’s pre-Islamic past by 18th- and 19th-century Javanese Islamic scholars are, for example, Kumar (1997), Supomo (1997), Headley (2004), and Hadiwijono (1967). Of particular note is also Johns’ (1966–67) analysis of the Dewaruci/Bhimasuci story in the light of the pre-Islamic tantric cult of Bhīma.

4 See in particular Ricklefs (2006) and Beatty (1999) (I put ‘syncretism’ within quote marks because this word needs to be qualified and problematised, as it has been aptly done by those authors; see the Introduction to this special issue).

5 Nearly 85 years after the publication of Zoetmulder’s book, this still remains a desideratum. Ricklefs (2006: 203–204), while discussing the birahi, reports Zoetmulder’s ideas without either endorsing or refuting them:

Zoetmulder wondered whether the term birai might be associated in some way with the licentious bhairawa practices that Javanese Hindu-Buddhism ascribed to the final age of disorder, the Kaliyuga. Certainly the ideas found in Centhini in this respect are similar, but here they are presented in an Islamic garb.

Wieringa (2011: 137) concedes that Śaiva and, in particular, Bhairavika concepts may have possibly influenced the Suluk Lonthang, as Zoetmulder surmised, though he does not elaborate on this issue, and simply (yet rightly) points out that this is not a particularly early text.

6 See in particular Stutterheim (1956a), Acri (2014, 2018), Basset (2004) and Becker (2004); cf. the observations by Harnish and Rasmussen (2011: 17–18). Some attention to antinomian performers (including the santri birahi) and performances described in Javanese texts from the ‘early Islamic period’ (17th to 19th centuries) has been paid by Sumarsam (1995) and Cohen (2011), but their analyses have tended to focus mainly, or uniquely, on the Sufi elements.

7 The birahi have been discussed in detail by Zoetmulder (1994), Cohen (2001), and Ricklefs (2006: 203–205, 2007: 36–38), among others. I hope to devote a fuller treatment to the issue of the religio-cultural roots of this group in a future article.

8 Cf. Pāśupatasūtra 5.32 and commentary (Pañcārthabhāṣya) on 5.30. Sanskrit sources, like the Brahmāṇḍapurāṇa, speak of the observance of the bull (govrata), also practised by the Pāśupatas, as not distinguishing ‘what is to be eaten and drunk, and what is not. … what should be done and what not, nor who is fit for sexual relation and who not’ (see Acharya 2013: 115).

9 Cf. a passage in the Sĕrat Cabolek (8.49), reporting the speech of Bhaṭāra Guru to Bhīma, where the power of obtaining anything results after union between the adept and God: ‘When you are one in being [with God] / anything you desire, / whatever you wish, is present / and whatever you seek is at hand’ (yen wus siji sawujud / sakarĕntĕgiṅ tyasereki / apa cinipta ana / kang sinedya rawuh).

10 Cf. Zoetmulder’s (1994: 217) remark that the presentation of God and mankind (or the soul) as spouses is rare and confined to a single passage of the Centhini. I am aware that the ‘special relation between man and God that is permeated by love’ denoted by the word biraha is common in both suluk literature and sufi mysticism (Cohen 2011: 134–135), perhaps more common than Zoetmulder believed, and yet the discourse strikes me as much more nuanced and indebted to pre-Islamic concepts than modern scholarship would have it.

11 www.sastra.org > leksikon.

12 Cf. the partial translation into English by Florida (1996) and the full translation into German by Wieringa (2001).

13 All of these are, indeed, typical behaviours of the Pāśupatas during certain stages of their ascetic career.

14 For example, Florida (1996: 207) calls him a ‘classic Sufi saint’; see also the discussion in Wieringa 2011.

15 Cf. the Suluk Malang Sumirang, in which the eponymous antinomian heretic (see infra) is said to defy danger through a song or work in verse (anrang baya denira mong gita, stanza 1, variant anrang baya gennira mong gita, Sĕrat Cabolek 11.7) – a significant detail that would seem to situate this character in an analogous context of apotropaic ritual performance.

16 Mss. 86 L 334, a lontar belonging to the Central Javanese Merapi-Merbabu collection listed as Uttarasabda (Suluk Lonthang) in Behrend (1998: 383); 1 L 170 (lontar Merapi-Merbabu, Uttarasabda, Behrend 1998: 342); CS 78 (paper ms. in Javanese, Uttarasabda (Suluk Lonthang), from lontar Merapi-Merbabu 1 L 225, Behrend 1998: 131). This Hindu-Buddhist text was composed in the period after the arrival of Islam, probably in the 17th century, as it betrays some Islamic influences (Kurniawan and Puspitorini 2018: 533).

17 Yen sira yen wruh ngelmu sejati / atanyaa kang wus ambirawa / kang celak pasikĕpane / kang wruh ing ujar kupur / wruh ing ala kang den-ranggoni / kang luput den-tamaha / iku kang den-gunggung / datan etang kalal karam / pĕrlu sunat malah datan dipunesti / kang sampun badan suksma.

18 See Gericke and Roorda (1901) s.v. birawa (birәwә); Pigeaud 1938, sv. birawa and berawa; Bausastra Jawa (Poerwadarminta 1939), etc.

19 Cf., for instance, the early 11th-century Arjunavivāha (16.7–8), describing the activities taking place within the fortress of the demon-king Nivatakavāca: drunken (avәrə̄) and enraged (vijavijah) demons engaged in martial exercises and took part in a great festival (mahotsava) or ‘drinking bout’, ‘grappling like Bhairava(s)’ (alapalapan mabherava) (Jakl 2014: 113). In the 14th–15th century Buddhist kakavin Kuñjarakarṇa by Mpu Ḍusun (8.3), the servants of Yama torment the sinners in hell, drinking their blood and eating their flesh: ‘like Bhairava(s) they roared with a terrible noise, intoxicated and daubed with bright blood they danced fast and furious’ (trans. Teeuw and Robson, quoted in Jákl 2014: 43; bhairavā yāṅuvuh ghora śabdanya mohāpulaṅ sonitābhrāṅigәl).

20 Cf. e.g. Gericke and Roorda (1901), Padmasusastra (1903), Winter (1928), and other entries on www.sastra.org > leksikon.

21 Or: ‘he is considered as [a small child]’.

22 Other meanings of liwung include ‘confused, furious, raging, senseless, crazed, drunk’.

23 Or: ‘without regard for others’ rights or feelings’.

24 Suluk Malang Sumirang, stanza 3: Idhĕp-idhĕpe kadya raryalit, tan angrasa dosa yen dinosan, tan angricik tan angronce, datan ahitang-hitung, batal karam tan den-singgahi, wus mañjing abirawa, liwung tanpa tutur, angangge sawĕnang-wĕnang, sampun kerĕm makame wong kupur kapir, tan ana den-sentaha.

25 Sĕrat Cabolek 11.20: Ujar kupur kapir den-lĕboni / tan angrasa dosa yen dinosan / tan angricik tan angrenteng / tan etang tan aetung / kalal karam tan den-rasani / wus mañjing ambirawa / liwung tanpa tutur / anganggo kawĕnang-wĕnang / wus tumĕka ing alame kapir / tan ana sinantaha (trans. Soebardi 1975: ‘He plunges into heretical doctrines / does not feel guilty under accusation, / he neither specifies nor generalizes / and does not respect anything. / He never discusses the Lawful and the Forbidden / he becomes a figure of horror / and acts wildly without guidance / regarding himself as master of everything. / He has arrived in the world of infidels / and fears nothing)’. In a note to the stanza, Soebardi (1975: 201) translates mañjing ambirawa as ‘[he] has become a figure of horror [possessing supranormal power]’, and notes: ‘ambirawa is derived from birawa (Skr. bhairawa) meaning “awful, terrible” also “a form of Śiva”’.

26 Mañjing could derive from either añjiṅ or pañjiṅ, meaning ‘to enter into; to enter and become one with’ or ‘to be included in; to be considered as; to accept, embrace (religion)’, respectively (Robson and Wibisono 2002)

27 Significantly, the forms (u)mañjing and kĕpañjingan are also used in mystical passages of the Cĕnthini where a secret doctrine of radical monism is taught, which implies the unity of budi and God, or the entering by the budi into the essence and attributes of God, or the permeation of budi by the names of God (Zoetmulder 1994: 210); compare the Sĕrat Dewaruci and Suluk Linglung/Seh Malaya II, where Wĕrkudara ‘enters’ (mañjing) into Dewaruci to become one/identified with Him as the paramount God (Quinn 2018a: 154). The use of the form mañjing in these contexts strikes me as similar to the use of the word (sam)āveśa in Sanskrit sources. Wallis (2004: 132) describes two distinct usages in Tantric texts, namely when āveśa means ‘possession’ (in the earliest sources), or when samāveśa means ‘absorption’ or ‘immersion’ (in the mature tradition), and notes that ‘the verbal root allows for the denotation of both the act of being entered (by a supernatural force) or entering into (the deity)’. He concludes that in several sources (especially in the Śākta and Bhairava tantras), possession is not a stage of being entered or possessed by an outside agency, but rather, ‘the human being is the agent of the verb, and … God is that which is entered, that which the human being becomes immersed in’ (Wallis 2004: 153; cf. 325–336).

28 The same analogy is resorted to by the Javanese translation of the Arabic text Tuhfat al-mursalā ilā rüh al-nabī in order to explain certain points of Islamic mysticism (Johns 1965: 35, 37, 75).

29 Yen tan wruha ujar kupur kapir / pasti wong iku durung sampurna / maksih mĕntah pangawruhe / pilih tumĕkeng kupur / kupur kapir ananireki / pan wĕkas ing kasidan / kupur kapir iku iman sadat iya salat / iya iḍĕp iya rasa iya urip / iya rasaning salam. Compare stanza 20 of the Suluk.

30 The title Suluk Ling Lung Sunan Kalijaga (or Suluk Syeh Melaya) has been attributed ex post by the modern curators of the Balai Pustaka edition (1993) due to the fact that Iman Anom is a putative descendant of Sunan Kalijaga, and that the text speaks about that character. The text is related to the Suluk Ling Lung/Suluk Seh Melaya I, an Islamic reworking of the Bhīma story in the Sĕrat Dewaruci, a text conventionally attributed to the Surakarta court poet Yasadipura I (1729–1803), where the character of Bhīma is a melange between Bhairava and the Pāṇḍava hero of the Mahābhārata. Cf. fn. 31.

31 In the introduction, the editors of the text published by Balai Pustaka (M. Khafid Kasri et al., in Sanadji 1993 [BP]) relate supernatural events around the discovery of the single manuscript in a private collection, whose whereabouts are not specified. A version of the text (actually, a fragment of chapter 6), copied in Javanese year 1786, was included in the Bima Suci published by Tanaya in 1979 [T], captioned as Kasusastran Bab Kamĕkaraning Ilmi Wĕjanganipun Sang Dewa Ruci … Ilmi Wĕjanganipun Nabi Kilir dhatĕng Seh Malaya, ing dalĕm sĕrat Suluk Seh Malaya. The beginning of the Balai Pustaka edition corresponds to ms. RP 332 pp. 95–115 (Suluk Seh Malaya = Suluk Cariyos Pandhita ingkang Sampurna ing Pati, Florida 1993: 240), ms. 333 pp. 122–42 (Florida 1993: 243), but differs from Sĕrat Linglung/Seh Malaya in ms. RP 366 pp. 1021–1060 (Florida 1993: 267) although one of the two dates reported on the colophon printed in Tanaya (1979: 120) do match with the 1786 date of this ms. Quinn (2018a: 151) describes the Suluk Linglung/Seh Malaya II as a closely related variant version of manuscript Leiden Cod. Or. 6537 (cf. infra, fn. 58), and uses the Balai Pustaka edition as a legitimate source (Quinn: 2018a: 151–155, 2018b). That edition still enjoys wide popularity in Java, having been republished in a number of websites, blogs, and discussed in books and MA theses in Indonesian.

32 BP; yen tiba ing T.

33 T; kasampurnan BP.

34 BP; nagari T.

35 T; om. BP (entire line).

36 BP; anilnakkĕn T.

37 BP; brĕsih T.

38 emend.; tunggale i baraha BP (unmetrical); tunggale ambirata T.

39 BP; sampun T.

40 BP; ambirata T.

41 BP; sirnane wetan iku T.

42 BP; lawan kulon kidul puniki T.

43 BP; elor luhur ing ngandhap T.

44 T; alit BP.

45 BP; awing-awang kumandhang lan warih angin T.

46 T; hya mung alam dahana BP.

47 The possibility that the expression pan wus karta nĕgara singgih could mean ‘because he has already become Kartanegara indeed’, thus referring to the last King of Siṅhasāri, who is notoriously associated with transgressive Bhairava-focused cults, is tempting but unlikely.

48 Cf. my discussion of Siti Jĕnar’s post mortem infra, p. 300, and compare a passage of the Sĕrat Cabolek (8.29–30 line 1), drawn from the Sĕrat Dewaruci: ‘Dewa Ruci, most enlightened [of all creatures] in the world, said: / “lt is the essence of Unity / and it means that all forms / are within you; / likewise everything in the world / has its Counterpart in your body. / Between the macrocosmos / and the microcosmos there is no difference. / It is the origin of north, south, east, / west, the zenith and the nadir, / as well as the [four colours]: black, red, yellow and white … .”’ (marbudeng rat Dewa Ruci angling / iya iku kejatening tunggal saliring warna tĕgĕse / iya ’na ing sireku / tuwin iya isining bumi ginambar angganira / lawan jagad agung jagad cilik tanpa beda / purwa ana lor kidul wetan puniki / kilen ing luhur nganḍap / [30] miwah ireng abang kuning putih …).

49 Cf. infra, fn. 68.

50 BP reads i baraha (nonsensical and unmetrical) in 6.47 and abirawa in 6.48, while T reads ambirata (nonsensical) twice. In view of the Javanese fragments discussed here, which bear a contextual similarity with these passages, the most likely original reading would be a(m)birawa.

51 Cf. Sĕrat Cabolek 8.74. For a discussion of these analogies in Sanskrit and Old Javanese sources, see Acri 2017: 382–390, 401–402.

52 This text relates an episode from the Cĕnthini tradition, namely the conversion of the mountain hermit Wasi Ragasmara to Islam (Florida 1993: 264, ms. KS 481.24).

53 Or: ‘walk back home [to] the love/grace of God’ (?).

54 Text of Suluk Seh Amongraga (1), with variants in (2) and emendations noted within brackets: Antĕnana Sidarĕngga / tejaswara janma winong ing Widdhi, kang badhe mulyakĕn iku, paran sasĕdyanira, Amongbrongta mĕsĕm ing pamuwus ipun, anglĕngkara awak ingwang, lumaku antuk [em.; lumakyon tuk (1); lumaky an tuk (2)] sih ing Widdhi. // Sun iki ambĕk [ambĕg (2)] birawa, anglĕlana tanpa ĕning ing kapti, tan pandon ing tingal [tingali (2)] liwung, tan uni [wrin (2)] ing subasita, pindha punggung tar wruh wĕkas ing awuwus, lir sarah aneng samodra, kombak kentir nut ing warih.

55 It is also possible that bheravi denotes the form of Durgā called Bheravī/Bhairavī, associated with practitioners of black magic in Bali.

56 The form aśrameṅ is problematic. It may be analysed either as aśrama, asarama, aśrama-śrama ‘to perform a war-dance, make dance-like movements, showing one’s fighting spirit before a combat; engage in a sham combat’ (Zoetmulder 1982: 1813), or as āśrama ‘hermitage, abode of ascetics; stage in the life of a brahman (see caturāśrama)’.

57 For instance, sridanta, nirartha, bhasmāṅkura, rajapati goṇḍala, etc.

58 Florida (1995: 163; cf. 261, fn. 23) describes this as an Arabised version of the Suluk Dewaruci, published in Yogyakarta in 1959 (ed. Faquier ’Abd’l Haqq, publ. house Kulawarga Bratakesawa). It may be the same version as the Sĕrat Linglung/Seh Malaya described in Florida (1993: 267), as well as ms. Leiden Cod. Or. 6537.

59 This was already suggested by Johns (1966–67: 45):

It may be regarded as certain, however, that the Bhimasuci is related to the Bhima cult, and is in all probability subsequent to it. … I would suggest that this relationship may be defined and understood by the hypothesis that the Bhimasuci has a specific function: to legitimize Bhima, the son of Pandu, as a Javanese culture hero, as a leader and saviour, into the rights and privileges of the Tantric pantheon.

60 On the latter, see Arps’ article in this special issue (Arps 2019).

61 See e.g. Sajarah Jati, stanzas 60–74; Sĕrat Seh Sitijĕnar (Buning, c.1921–22: 103–118); Serat Sitidjenar (tĕmbang) by Raden Sasrawidjaja (1958: 35–41); Sĕrat Dĕmak (Anonymous 1831: 379–393).

62 According to Javanese tradition, Haji Mutamakin, Ki Bagdad (= Ki Bĕbĕluk), and Seh Amongraga (the protagonist of the Sĕrat Cĕnthini) were also executed for heresy (Soebardi 1975: 7, 36–39; Sĕrat Cabolek 6.7; cf. Feener 1998: 577–578).

63 Cf. Zoetmulder 1994: 302, and Headley 2006: 16, fn. 16: ‘If Siti Djenar is a monist in the Indian tradition, his common identification in Java with al-Hallaj is unjustified for Hallaj only drew back the veil on his experience of prayer which is forbidden by the shari’a. The radical monism of Siti Djenar continued to be converted into pantheism by Javanese Muslims … ’.

64 For instance, stanza 5.8 of the Arjunavivāha (Zoetmulder 1994: 307).

65 Intriguingly, an account by the scholar-missionary C. Poensen about the birahi reports that they believed that ‘heaven is on earth, hell is on earth, and there is no resurrection for the dead’ (Cohen 2011: 139–140).

66 See Sĕrat Siti Jĕnar (Mangunwidjaja 1917: 20); Babad Tanah Djawa Poerwaredja 43.15 (Seh Siti Jĕnar) and 47.35–36 (Ky Lonthang).

67 There are also resonances with the biographies of the Sufi masters Syamsuddin as-Samatrani and Hamzah Fansuri, who in the early 1640s were accused of heresy, their books burnt, and their disciples executed (Braginsky 2004: 309).

68 These four nafs are found in many mystical texts in Javanese and Malay (Braginsky 2004: 278, 667, 723; cf. Arps 2011, 2018: 92, fn. 3).

69 14.7–11; no colours are associated explicitly with each direction, but the entire body is said to be shining and to have the colour of crystal (bhāsvara sphaṭikavarṇa). Cf. infra, fn. 72.

70 The Old Javanese Pūrvaka Bhūmi (pp. 11–13; 40–41) homologises the five Kuśikas with the five faces of Śiva and links them to the colours white, yellow, red, black and ‘five coloured’ (pañcavarṇa); similarly, the Saṅ Hyaṅ Kamahāyānikan (52.11–12) links the Pañcatathāgatas forming the body of the Buddha with white, blue, yellow, red and ‘multi-coloured’ viśvavarṇa (or syāma, dark, green). For a list of similar passages in Sanskrit sources, see Acri (2017: 196). Basset (2004 IV: 56) notes that the multi-coloured costume of the masked bodor, a character who accompanies the Barong in Losari (Cirebon) during performances of exorcism, as well as the harlequin costume of the Tenggerese Hindu priests, are likely to reflect the idea of the multiple colour of the Centre/Śiva.

71 The idea about a correspondence between the legend of the nine wali and the navasaṅa-system was voiced by Hooykaas (1966: 646): ‘It may not be an accident that Java’s transition to Islam in the sixteenth century is attributed to wali sanga, the nine “saints”, whose names may vary, but whose number is fixed.’ I am aware of the fact that the earlier term for this cluster of holy men was wali sana, and that some earlier texts do not depict them as being nine in number; this, however, strengthens rather than weakens my point, for their homologisation with the sacred number nine reflects a conscious attempt to integrate the pre-Islamic/Javanist and Islamic strands of Javanese religion that may be situated in the 18th or 19th century.

72 Cf. Sĕrat Cabolek 8.28: ‘After the four colours vanished there appeared / a single flame with eight colours. / Saṅ Werkudara asked: ‘What is the name / of this single flame with eight colours / which is the real one, / the true colour? / In part it is like a shining jewel / in part indeterminate and awesome / in part gleaming like an emerald’ (sirna patang prakara ’na malih / urub siji wĕwolu warnaña / sang Wĕrkudara ature / ‘Punapa wastanipun / urub siji wĕwolu warni / pundi ingkang sañata / rupa kang satuhu / wontĕn kadi rĕtna muñcar / wontĕn kadi maya-maya angĕbati / wĕneh abra markata’).

73 This is apt, as the last member of the series is usually the most important one: compare the character of Pātañjala as the last and central member – as the incarnation of Śiva – of the pentad of the pañcakuśikas (Acri 2017: 371).

74 The ‘great observance’ (mahāvrata) carried out by the Kāpālikas prescribed that the adept must wear the skin of a dog; the Abhidharmakośabhāṣya by the Buddhist master Vasubandhu characterises the Pāśupata conduct as ‘behaving like a dog’, kukkura … vrataṃ (Acharya 2013: 105, 127–128; White 1991: 102–103). The observance of the jackal is described in the Śāktatantra Brahmayāmala as follows: ‘The eminent master of mantras should play on an hourglass-shaped drum or a kettle drum and emit a jackal’s cry or the sound of a demon’ (Törzsök 2016: 483). We also know of a semi-legendary tantric master and antinomian yogin named Kukkurācārya or Kukkurāja (kukkura = dog), who instructs king Indrabhūti in obtaining the supernatural status of vidyādhara (Davidson 2002: 243).

75 The detail of Siti Jĕnar’s blood becoming white may be related to the idea of liminality, transformation, and purification. In order to explain it, Mabbett (2017: 149–153) draws an analogy with the imagery around the Indian tantric goddess Chinnamastā, whose blood gushes forth from her own severed head to nourish herself and two attendants; on the basis of Wendy Doniger’s interpretation of the link between female blood and milk, he envisages a tension between purity and pollution, transformation of demonic into benign forces in reference to ‘blood as a sacred fluid that can turn white, perhaps doubling as milk or sperm’ (Mabbett 2017: 153).

76 The other name of Siti Jĕnar, Lĕmah Abang (i.e. Reddish Earth), has been traditionally associated in Java with the abangan (‘red brown’), the marginally Islamised form of Javanese folk religion that developed out of a Hindu-Buddhist matrix (but the folk etymology of the latter word as being derived from the former is rejected by Ricklefs 2007: 84, fn. 1).

77 Cf. the intriguing remark by Anderson (1990: 25) that the Bhairava-centric tantric tradition of East Javanese King Kṛtanagara (13th century) ‘still finds more or less clandestine adherents in contemporary Indonesia’.