Pak Lebai was a wishy-washy man. He often changed his mind at the last minute, even after making a decision. Some said he thought too much, others said he simply couldn’t make up his mind. He lived alone in a quiet village by a wide, winding river. Each day, he would paddle his small sampan up and down the river, either fishing or visiting friends in nearby villages. The river was his road, his companion, and sometimes, his place to think.
One sunny afternoon, as Pak Lebai leisurely rowed his sampan along the calm waters, he heard someone call out to him from the riverbank.
“Pak Lebai! Pak Lebai!”
It was his neighbor from the east side of the river, waving excitedly.
“Can you come to my house tomorrow? I’m having a big party,” the neighbor shouted. “We’ll have gulai kepala kerbau—you can take home the buffalo’s head!”
Pak Lebai’s face lit up. He loved parties, especially village feasts where food was served in abundance. The thought of juicy meat, savory dishes, and the prized buffalo’s head made his stomach rumble with joy. He nodded cheerfully, promising to come.
But just a little while later, as he was still paddling downstream, another voice called out—this time from the west side of the river.
“Pak Lebai! Don’t forget to come to my house tomorrow! I’m also having a big celebration!”
Now Pak Lebai’s smile faded into a frown. Two parties? On the same day? Both invitations were tempting. Both hosts were his neighbors—and both promised delicious food. One party was on the east side of the river, the other on the west. He stared at the water, as if hoping the river itself would tell him where to go.
The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. What if the food is better on the east side? But what if the party on the west has more guests and better entertainment? What if the buffalo’s head on one side is bigger than the other?
Pak Lebai couldn’t decide. And in true Pak Lebai fashion—he kept changing his mind over and over again.
"I’ll go to the east side," Pak Lebai muttered to himself, stroking his chin. "He’s richer than the other host. Maybe I’ll even get two buffalo heads instead of one!" His eyes gleamed with hope. He imagined the big feast, the laughter, and the aroma of freshly cooked dishes floating through the air. “Yes, yes,” he nodded eagerly. “He’ll surely treat me well.”
The next morning, with high hopes and a hungry stomach, Pak Lebai set out early. He paddled his sampan vigorously, cutting through the morning mist that hovered above the river. The current was calm, and the rising sun painted golden ripples across the water’s surface. He hummed a tune as he rowed, dreaming of rendang, dendeng, and a juicy buffalo’s head to take home.
But along the way, he spotted a group of villagers returning from the very party he was heading to.
"Where are you going, Pak Lebai?" one of them asked.
“To the east side! I’ve been invited!” he replied proudly.
They exchanged looks and burst into laughter.
"That party? It was awful," said one of them. "Not many buffalo heads at all. Just some plain rice and soup. He’s too stingy to serve anything fancy."
Pak Lebai’s smile faltered. His heart sank a little, but he puffed out his chest. “I don’t care,” he insisted. “He’s still my friend. I’m sure he’ll save the best for me!”
He continued paddling, though a small seed of doubt had taken root in his mind. As he neared the riverbank, just within reach of the east side, that doubt blossomed into worry.
What if they’re right? What if he really is stingy? What if I go all the way there and get nothing but bones?
With a loud sigh, Pak Lebai stopped paddling. He looked longingly toward the east side, then suddenly turned his sampan around. “Forget it! I’ll go to the west side instead. Maybe they still have something good left!”
Now in a rush, he paddled harder than ever, racing against time. The sun was higher now, and the river shimmered with heat. His arms ached, but he didn’t stop. He was determined not to miss the second party.
But just as he approached the western shore, another group of villagers passed by in their boats.
“Pak Lebai? Where have you been?” one called out. “The west-side party is already over!”
“Over?” he gasped, nearly dropping his paddle. “No! It can’t be!”
His face fell, his strength vanished. All that paddling, all that indecision—and now he had missed both parties. The delicious food he had dreamed of, the buffalo’s head he had hoped to bring home—all gone.
Frustrated and heartbroken, Pak Lebai floated silently on the river. He was exhausted from going back and forth, his arms sore and his pride wounded. Unable to do anything else, he leaned back in his sampan and fell asleep, his hat drooping over his face.
The river, ever gentle and unbothered by human troubles, continued to carry him along. By the time he woke up, he had drifted far from his village, arriving in a place he didn’t recognize.
When news of his misadventure spread across his village, the people couldn’t help but chuckle. “Poor Pak Lebai,” they said. “He kept changing his mind until he missed everything!”
And from that day on, he was known as Pak Lebai Malang—the Unlucky Mr. Lebai. His name became a reminder: if you can’t make up your mind, you might just end up with nothing at all. 🐃⛵💭
💡 Moral Message:
“Too much hesitation leads to regret. Those who cannot decide in time may miss all the good that life offers.”
(Alternate in proverb style: "He who chases two buffaloes catches none.")
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