When I Saw Nāgarūda
A Fusion of Legend and Futurism from Indonesian Shores
Edisi Indonesia: Penampakan Singkat Nagaruda
My name is Arjuna, and I am just a humble fisherman from a small village along the southern coast of Java. For generations, my family has lived by the rhythm of the sea, casting nets and braving storms to bring back the ocean's bounty. We know the sea's moods as well as we know the faces of our loved ones. But nothing in my years on the water could prepare me for the day I encountered the Nāgarūda.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was casting long golden shadows over the waves. I had gone out farther than usual, lured by tales of larger fish in deeper waters. My boat swayed gently, its wooden hull groaning under the weight of the catch. Suddenly, the ocean around me seemed to ripple in an unnatural way—not like a wave, but as if the water itself was holding its breath.
At first, I thought it was a storm brewing, but the sky remained clear, painted in hues of amber and violet. Then, from the depths of the ocean, it rose.
The head came first—a massive, shimmering figure of a Garuda, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Its metallic feathers caught the sunlight and refracted it into a cascade of colors I’d never seen before. Its beak, sharp and regal, was adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with energy. The sight alone was enough to steal the breath from my chest.
 |
| Oil Pastel on Paper by Winry Marini 2025 |
But before I could grasp the enormity of what I was seeing, the rest of its body emerged. The Nāgarūda was no ordinary creature. Its wings, vast and mechanical yet alive, spread wide, casting shadows over the sea. And its tail—oh, its tail—was that of a serpent, scales shimmering like the moonlit water, undulating with a grace that seemed almost hypnotic.
It didn’t attack, nor did it threaten. Instead, it hovered over the waves, as if it were studying me. My boat rocked violently, caught in the currents its presence stirred. My instincts screamed for me to row away, to flee, but I was frozen in awe.
That’s when I noticed something remarkable. The Nāgarūda was not just a creature of myth and legend—it was alive, yet fused with technology far beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Its wings hummed with power, emitting a faint glow, and its tail seemed to generate waves of energy that rippled through the sea.
I don’t know why, but it seemed to sense me—this tiny speck of a man, dwarfed by its magnificence. For a moment, its glowing eyes met mine, and I felt a strange calm wash over me. It was as if it understood my smallness, my fear, and yet chose to spare me.
Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the Nāgarūda soared upward, breaking through the clouds with a roar that sounded like the cry of the earth itself. The sea calmed, the ripples faded, and I was left alone, adrift in a silence that felt almost sacred.
When I returned to the village and told my tale, no one believed me, of course. They said I’d spent too long at sea, that I was seeing things. But I know what I saw. The Nāgarūda was real—a fusion of legend and future, of earth, sky, and sea.
Now, when I cast my nets, I look to the horizon and wonder. Was it a warning? A guardian? Or something beyond my understanding entirely? All I know is that the world felt different after that day, as if the Nāgarūda had reminded me that there is more to this life than we can ever truly know.
And sometimes, when the light hits the waves just right, I think I see a glimmer of its tail, vanishing into the depths.
No comments:
Post a Comment