Folktale from Central Kalimantan
Ambun and Rimbun were brothers, so similar in appearance that people often mistook them for twins. However, in reality, Ambun was the elder by a year. Despite their slight age difference, the two shared a deep bond, always looking out for each other and working together to ease their hardships.
They lived in a humble hut with their mother, nestled on the edge of the village. Their father had passed away when they were still young, leaving their mother to raise them alone. Though life was difficult, the brothers did everything they could to support her. Every day, they ventured into the nearby forest, collecting firewood to sell at the market. It was exhausting work, yet they never complained, knowing that their small earnings were all their mother had to sustain them.
Despite his hard work, Ambun often found himself troubled by their poverty. He longed for a better life, not just for himself, but especially for his mother, who had sacrificed so much for them. The thought of her aging hands, roughened by years of labor, pained him. Determined to change their fate, he resolved to leave the village in search of a better opportunity—somewhere he could work and earn enough to provide his mother with a more comfortable life.
One evening, as they sat together by the dim glow of a small oil lamp, Ambun finally voiced his plan. His mother listened in silence, her heart heavy with worry. She knew how strong-willed he was and feared for his safety, yet she also understood his desire to improve their lives. Before she could find the words to dissuade him, Rimbun spoke up. He, too, wished to go. Though younger, he shared the same frustration over their circumstances and refused to be left behind.
Their mother sighed, torn between concern and pride. She knew her sons were kindhearted and determined, willing to endure hardships for her sake. Though it pained her, she realized she could not hold them back. With a quiet nod, she accepted their decision, offering them her blessing and a mother’s heartfelt prayer for their safe return.
Before they set off, their mother gave them two traditional knives, each wrapped in a piece of cloth—one red and one yellow. The red one was given to Ambun, while Rimbun received the yellow. These knives were not just tools but symbols of protection, passed down through generations. As she placed them in her sons' hands, their mother’s eyes brimmed with silent prayers, hoping they would return safely.
With heavy yet determined hearts, the brothers began their journey. The road ahead was uncertain, stretching far beyond the lands they had ever known. They traveled through dense forests, where towering trees formed a thick canopy, allowing only specks of sunlight to filter through. Birds chirped in the distance, and the rustling of leaves echoed around them as they stepped carefully over the uneven ground.
But then, without warning, Rimbun stumbled and collapsed. His body went limp, his breath shallow. Ambun’s heart pounded in fear.
"Rimbun! What happened? Are you all right?" he cried, kneeling beside his brother.
Rimbun did not respond. His face had lost all color, his once bright eyes now dull and distant. Panic surged through Ambun as he lifted his brother and carried him to the base of a large tree, resting him against its sturdy trunk. He checked for signs of a wound, for a fever, for anything that could explain his sudden weakness. But there was nothing—only the slow, fading rise and fall of his brother’s chest.
Helplessness clawed at Ambun. He called Rimbun’s name again and again, shaking him gently, begging him to hold on. But his brother’s strength continued to wane. A cold, unnatural silence filled the air, wrapping around them like a shroud. Then, in a final, fleeting breath, Rimbun’s body fell still.
Ambun froze. The world around him seemed to blur, as if time itself had fractured. His hands trembled as he reached for his brother’s shoulder, hoping—praying—that he would stir. But there was no movement, no warmth left in his skin.
Tears welled up in Ambun’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks. His chest tightened with sorrow, a grief so deep it threatened to break him. He had promised to take care of Rimbun, to share this journey together. Now, his brother was gone, and he was alone.
Guilt weighed heavily upon him. He should never have let Rimbun come. He should have protected him.
With a heavy heart, Ambun dug a grave beneath the towering tree, his hands raw from clawing at the earth. As he placed Rimbun’s lifeless body into the ground, he felt as though he was burying a part of himself. When the last handful of soil was placed over the grave, he retrieved his brother’s yellow-wrapped knife and, with a solemn heart, drove it into the mound of earth—marking the final resting place of the only person who had ever truly understood him.
For a long time, he sat there in silence, staring at the blade gleaming under the dim forest light, whispering a quiet farewell.
Then, with the weight of loss pressing upon his soul, he rose and continued his journey alone.
Ambun pressed forward through the jungle, his heart still heavy with grief. The loss of Rimbun lingered in his mind, but he knew he had to keep moving. The forest was dense, and as night fell, the air grew colder. The sounds of nocturnal creatures filled the silence—crickets chirping, owls hooting, and the distant howl of a wild animal. His feet ached, and his stomach rumbled from hunger.
Just as he was beginning to despair, he spotted a faint light flickering through the trees. His hope reignited, he hurried toward it, weaving through the undergrowth until he reached a small wooden house. The warm glow of a lamp shone through the windows, casting a welcoming aura against the dark forest. Gathering his courage, he knocked on the door.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with kind, wrinkled eyes. She studied him for a moment, as if sensing the exhaustion in his posture.
"Who are you, young man?" she asked, her voice soft yet firm.
"My name is Ambun," he said, bowing respectfully. "I have been traveling through the jungle, but I lost my brother on the way. I have nowhere to stay tonight. Please, may I rest here?"
The old woman’s expression softened. "Come in, child," she said, stepping aside.
Relieved, Ambun entered the warm little house. Inside, the scent of herbs and burning wood filled the air. A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The old woman prepared a bowl of hot porridge and set it before him.
"Eat, you must be tired," she said.
Ambun gratefully accepted the meal. As he ate, he told her about his mother, about how he and Rimbun used to gather firewood to make a living, and about his dream of finding work to earn money for his mother. His voice wavered slightly as he spoke of Rimbun’s death, but he pushed forward, determined to honor his brother’s memory.
The old woman listened intently, nodding as he spoke. When he finished, she smiled gently.
"You have a kind heart, young one," she said. "And perhaps fate has led you here for a reason."
Ambun looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"
"I have heard of an opportunity," she said, leaning forward slightly. "The king of this land is searching for a worthy man to marry his daughter. Whoever succeeds will not only become the princess’s husband but will also inherit the throne."
Ambun’s eyes widened in surprise. "But… surely, many men would wish for such a chance. How can the king choose?"
The old woman chuckled. "Ah, but there is a test. The king has set a challenge. Any man who wishes to marry the princess must be able to leap from the palace courtyard onto the roof and pluck a single jasmine flower."
Ambun’s heart pounded. The task sounded impossible for an ordinary man. But he was not ordinary. Before his father had passed away, he had trained Ambun and Rimbun in various skills—jumping, climbing, and moving swiftly through the forest. Their father had believed in the importance of agility and strength, and now, that training might finally serve a purpose.
A spark of determination lit in Ambun’s chest. He clenched his fists, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"I will do it," he declared. "I will take the challenge."
The old woman studied him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "Very well, young one. Rest for tonight. Tomorrow, I will help you prepare."
For the first time since Rimbun’s passing, Ambun felt hope stirring in his heart. This could be his chance—not just to change his own life, but to give his mother the happiness she deserved.
As he lay down to rest, the red-wrapped knife at his side, he silently vowed to succeed—not just for himself, but for Rimbun, for their mother, and for the future that awaited him.
The next morning, Ambun and the old woman set off for the palace. The journey was long, but Ambun felt lighter, his heart filled with determination. As they arrived at the grand gates, towering guards stared at him with skeptical eyes. The courtyard was already filled with noblemen, officials, and commoners eager to witness the impossible challenge.
As soon as Ambun stepped forward, whispers spread through the crowd.
"Who is this poor boy?" one man scoffed.
"He looks nothing like a prince," another sneered.
"If the strongest warriors failed, what makes him think he can succeed?"
Laughter rippled through the audience, but Ambun remained unfazed. He stood tall, his mind focused. He was not here for their approval—he was here for his mother, for Rimbun, and for the life they all deserved.
The king, sitting on his golden throne, raised his hand to silence the crowd. Though he, too, doubted the young man, he was a fair ruler. "Let him try," he declared.
Ambun stepped forward, his heart pounding. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He thought of his father—of the lessons in strength and agility, the endless days of training in the forest. He let go of his fears.
Then… WUSSHHHH!
With a single powerful leap, Ambun soared into the air. Gasps filled the courtyard as he flew higher and higher. The jasmine flower, delicate and white, swayed in the wind. With precision, Ambun reached out and plucked it.
He landed gracefully on the ground, the flower in his hand.
Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then—cheers erupted. The crowd, once full of doubt, now roared with admiration.
"He did it!"
"Incredible!"
"Amazing!"
The king rose to his feet, his face beaming with joy. "At last, I have found the worthy one!" he declared.
Ambun was honored, but before the wedding preparations could begin, he knew there was something he had to do. He needed to return home and bring his mother to the palace.
When Ambun arrived at the small hut, his mother was waiting for him. However, instead of joy, sorrow filled her eyes.
"My son…" she said, her voice trembling. "You have succeeded, but how can I be happy knowing Rimbun is gone?" Tears streamed down her face. "There is one way to bring him back."
Ambun's heart raced. "Tell me, Mother! I will do anything!"
"You must find the Water of Life," she said. "It is hidden at the peak of the sacred mountain. Only with this water can we bring Rimbun back."
Without hesitation, Ambun set off once more. The journey was treacherous—he climbed steep cliffs, braved freezing winds, and fought exhaustion. Days passed, but he did not give up. Finally, after an arduous climb, he reached the peak.
There, in the center of a mystical spring, the Water of Life shimmered like liquid silver. Carefully, Ambun filled a small vial and hurried back home.
When he returned, his mother stood by Rimbun’s grave. "Dig," she instructed.
Ambun dug through the earth, his hands trembling with hope. When he reached Rimbun’s body, his mother took the vial and poured the water over him.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—Rimbun’s fingers twitched. His chest rose with a deep breath. His eyes fluttered open.
"Rimbun!" Ambun cried, tears of joy streaming down his face.
"Brother…" Rimbun whispered, his voice weak but alive.
Their mother wept, embracing her sons tightly. They were together again. Their family was whole.
After their joyful reunion, Ambun returned to the palace with his mother, Rimbun, and the old woman. He married the princess, just as promised, and became the new king. True to his heart, he invited the old woman to stay in the palace, honoring the kindness she had shown him.
From that day forward, Ambun ruled with wisdom and compassion. His family remained by his side, and the kingdom flourished under his leadership.
And so, they all lived happily ever after.
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