STONE AND BAMBOO

Under a gray sky and shy drizzles of rain, an old man sat cross-legged before an ancient stone. His shirt and headcloth were black, his beard white—a symbol of time he never tried to defy. In front of him, incense smoke curled upward, with bananas and sugar neatly arranged. Not for a grand ritual, but enough for a heartfelt expression of gratitude.

The stone was no ordinary stone. It was believed to be the subtle throne of Ratu Dukuh Sakti, a guardian spirit passed down through generations. The old man, known as Nang Lecir, was a nobody in the eyes of the state. But today, he was everything to the nation.

His ideological child was not of his blood, but a student of life whom he had forged with values. Today, that child graduated as a Doctor of International Law. Not in a regency town, not even in his own country—but at Harvard, United States. With honors: Cum Laude. In the historic grounds of Harvard Yard, where many world leaders had once stood.

Tears fell to the earth. He wept not just from pride, but from realization: the values he once taught among the fields and granaries—honesty, resolve, and devotion to the people—had now borne fruit in a faraway land, ready to return to the motherland.

“Thank you, Ratu…” he murmured. “My sons and daughters now serve not just knowledge, but their nation.”

The bamboo trees rustled in the wind. As if bearing witness that success is not just the result of study, but the fruit of long prayers, ancestors never forgotten, and a silent love.

In a world that often forgets its roots, Nang Lecir keeps planting. He knows that his ideological children will return—not with empty hands, but with clear knowledge and souls untouched by the world’s corrosion.

For in this land called homeland, love for the nation is not a slogan—it is a form of service.

by: Ngurah Sigit