Once upon a time, Sunan Kalijaga planned to visit his fellow wali, Sunan Muria, who lived in the hilly region of Pati, Central Java. Before setting off, he invited his loyal companion, Ki Rangga, to accompany him on the journey. Several faithful servants also joined them, carrying bundles of food, offerings, and travel necessities. Since it was long before the age of cars or trains, they began their pilgrimage on foot, moving steadily through the fields, forests, and winding village paths.
The day was warm, and the sun hung high in the sky as they traveled across the Javanese countryside. Along the way, they passed rice paddies that shimmered under the sunlight, bamboo groves that whispered in the breeze, and the distant sound of gamelan from a nearby village. Hours went by, and though the group was used to long journeys, fatigue began to settle in.
Eventually, Ki Rangga wiped the sweat from his brow and slowed his pace. His legs were heavy, and the road seemed endless. “Are we still far from Sunan Muria’s house?” he asked, his voice tinged with both weariness and longing for rest.
Sunan Kalijaga turned to him with a calm, reassuring smile. “We are already within the region of Kadipaten Pati Pesantenan,” he replied gently. “The mountain is not far from here. We shall arrive at Sunan Muria’s home shortly. Please be patient, and let your heart stay light. Every step we take is part of the blessing.”
Ki Rangga felt a quiet shame creeping over him. Though he was a strong man, loyal and capable, he couldn’t hide his exhaustion. His feet ached, his throat was dry, and the sun’s heat weighed heavily on his shoulders. Meanwhile, Sunan Kalijaga still walked with ease—his face calm, his steps steady, as if carried by a strength beyond the physical. Ki Rangga lowered his head, embarrassed to appear weak beside such a noble soul.
Seeing this, Sunan Kalijaga gently placed a hand on Ki Rangga’s shoulder. “Let us rest beneath that big tree,” he said, pointing to a towering beringin tree with thick roots curling from the earth like ancient arms. Its wide leaves offered shade, and its presence felt sacred—as if it had stood there for centuries, waiting for this moment. The group gratefully sat down beneath it, relieved by the cool shade.
It was time for the Zuhur prayer, but a problem arose. There was no river, no stream, no well in sight—nothing to perform wudu. Ki Rangga looked around anxiously. His lips were parched, and even the leaves seemed to shimmer in the dry air.
“I don’t see any water nearby,” he said nervously. “Where should we take wudu?”
Sunan Kalijaga smiled with gentle wisdom, his eyes reflecting calm faith. “We should pray to Allah SWT for water,” he said softly. “This world belongs to Him. He can bring water from the most unexpected places. Now listen carefully, Ki Rangga. Stay here and guard this tree. It may be the vessel through which Allah SWT sends us His blessing. But remember—do not act alone. When the water comes, you must inform me first. I will go behind that hill to pray.”
Ki Rangga nodded solemnly, his heart touched by the trust placed in him. “I promise, Kanjeng Sunan. I will inform you.”
With that, Sunan Kalijaga walked slowly toward the hill, his silhouette disappearing behind the green rise. Ki Rangga remained with the servants beneath the ancient tree. The rhythmic whisper of wind through the leaves and the stillness of the moment lulled them into a sense of peace. Before long, their tired bodies surrendered, and one by one, they drifted into slumber—Ki Rangga included, his head resting against the bark of the tree he had sworn to guard.
Suddenly, a soft gurgling sound stirred the silence. From the base of the big tree, clear water began to trickle, then gush, as if the earth itself had awakened. The cool spring burst forth from the roots, spraying Ki Rangga and the sleeping servants. Shocked and soaked, they jolted awake. At first confused, they quickly realized what had happened—and their tired faces lit up with joy.
The water was fresh and cool, a blessing after their long, dusty journey. They drank eagerly, cupping their hands, laughing like children who had found an unexpected treasure. The servants splashed in the spring, chasing one another and pouring water over their heads. Even Ki Rangga, overcome with relief, joined in. In their happiness, the memory of Sunan Kalijaga’s instruction slowly faded from Ki Rangga’s mind. He had forgotten his promise—to inform the wali when the water came.
Meanwhile, behind the hill, Sunan Kalijaga sat in quiet prayer, but his heart stirred with unease. Something did not feel right. He stood and walked back toward the tree. As he approached, the sound of laughter and splashing water grew louder. His steps quickened.
When he arrived, he paused, his expression calm yet filled with deep disappointment. There, in the sacred water granted by divine will, he saw Ki Rangga and the others frolicking carelessly, ignoring the trust he had given them.
“You forgot my message,” Sunan Kalijaga said softly, his voice like a breeze before a storm. “I asked you to inform me when the water came out. But instead, you are playing in the water like turtles.”
At that moment, something strange occurred.
The laughter stopped.
A hush fell over the pond.
Before anyone could respond, a miracle unfolded. One by one, Ki Rangga and his servants began to transform—their bodies shrinking, their limbs pulling in, their skin changing into rough, patterned shells. In place of men, there were now turtles, quietly swimming in the spring.
Ki Rangga, though changed, still carried sorrow in his heart. He realized that he had broken a sacred trust, and now bore the consequence of forgetting his word. The spring, which had come from Allah’s blessing, was not to be treated lightly.
From that day on, the spring became a sacred place, known as Sendang Sani. Located in Pati, Central Java, it is still visited by people today—pilgrims who come to reflect, to pray, and to remember the story of Ki Rangga. The turtles remain as a symbol and a reminder: to honor promises, to stay humble, and to treat every blessing with reverence. 🌊🐢✨
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