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Candi Brahu Temple: Holy Heritage in East Java
The peaceful throb of history reigns over the cultural heritage site of Candi Brahu, finds writer Kh2. The temple is an understated, humble place, but even a cursory wander round shows that it has as much depth as any holy corner of Indonesia.
Trowulan is an archaeological site in East Java, close to Mojokerto. It is a pretty area and much green space and many aged, weathered buildings that sit quietly between rice fields and pretty kampungs. Some of these structures, several made of red and brown bricks, date back centuries. Others have an even further reach and can claim ages measured in millennia.
All these buildings, including amongst their number Candi Brahu, produce the same feeling, which ensnares some visitors to Trowulan. Such folk report a sense of temporal shifting, as though they stepped into a historical tract chronicling Java‘s greater sites of interest. What might they have found as they wandered through the faded, sepia-tinged images found therein?
Perhaps they found that further rummaging will show that Trowulan once held great influence. That is, the site is the former capital of the Majapahit Empire, which lasted from the thirteenth century until the sixteenth and, at its height, spanned Asia and Oceania. Trowulan is the last remaining city of this Hindu-Buddhist kingdom. This standing gives the place a sense of power quite at odds with the region’s current stately pace. In fact, those who walk around Trowulan often report that the place emanates quiet pride, of the kind enjoyed by those who have nothing to prove.
The Trowulan Complex
The Trowulan Complex is a gargantuan offering. It is an archaeological site that sprawls 100 sq km and was once known as Wilwatikta. Wilwatikta was the heart of Majapahit. It had an imposing, sophisticated appearance. Each element, from its artifacts to its foundations to its architecture and beyond, conveyed grandeur. Moreover, they showed the intricacies of Java’s expansive history and tradition.
Many structures in Trowluan, such as the temple gates of Wringin Lawang and Bajang Ratu, are tall and thin. So, too, are they marked with carved reliefs. Their bodies are made of red bricks, which bestow upon them a quality of seething. And like many places in Java, there is evidence of cultural exchange with Islam.
Troloyo cemetery, for instance, shows the presence of Muslim officials in the Majapahit court. These officials had a long reach. In the burial ground rests Sayyid Jumadil Kubro, who fathered Sunan Ampel, a revered Wali Sanga saint of Javanese Islam. Sunan Ampel was one of nine holy Islamic figures who spread that faith’s message across Java. The gravestones in Troloyo show this cultural blend even further. They display a mix of temple stones, carvings and Javanese inscriptions that take their cues from Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism.
Engineering feats
Trowulan’s water management system shows the advanced skill of Majapahit’s engineers. Canals ran through the city, ferrying water hither and thon. But an even greater feat came in the form of Kolam Segeran. This reservoir claims the title of Indonesia’s largest artificial body of water from days of yore. It measures 200 metres wide and 800 long. In its heyday, it looked splendid thanks to the artistry of its carvings and the smoothness of its form. Kolam conveyed so much pomp that Majapahit rulers liked to show it off to esteemed visitors.
Standing apart from these historical sites is Candi Brahu. This Hindu-Buddhist temple sits, calm and dignified, in peaceful grounds on the outskirts of town. It is a magnificent spectacle, and an understated reminder of religious synthesis and pre-Majapahit life in Java.
Read More: Dieng Plateau: Temples and Rich Culture in Central Java
The roots of Candi Brahu
Candi Brahu holds a unique place in the pantheon of Javanese holy sites. It is one of the area’s few remaining temples from the pre-Majapahit period. In fact, research has placed Candi Brahu as Trowulan’s oldest such structure.
This decree stems from the nearby Analistan inscription, a remnant from the reign of King Mpu Sindok, a Mataram Kingdom monarch. The marking refers to a sacred space known as ‘Waharu’, from which Brahu derived its name. The inscription dates back to 861 Saka, or September 939 CE, suggesting that the site predates Majapahit. But while the empire one day fell to ruin, the temple still stands. In a state of some ruin, perhaps, but with the same rigid spine of its former years.
And Brahu has always had a pious purpose. The word ‘brahu’ has at its core ‘awu’, Javanese for ‘ashes’. This root implies that the temple served as a royal crematorium. Some sources have shown that the site housed the burned remains of rulers such as King Brawijaya IV, a Majapahit monarch from the fifteenth century. But unlike other royal temples in East Java, such as Malang’s Candi Kidal, Brahu has only ever acted as a place of worship. Even now, the Buddhist community flocks to the site for prayer and sacred rituals.
Appearance of Candi Brahu
Not that Candi Brahu makes things easy for the unaware. When the Western expedition leader Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles first saw the temple in 1817, he thought that it might be a gapura, or gateway. Given the context of seeing the temple for the first time, such a misstep makes sense. A gapura and a candi both have red-brick facades and hold spiritual weight. But while the former acts as a threshold to a sacred space, the latter houses holy deities, powers and forces.
Candi Brahu’s distinction lies in how it looks. The temple has a pagoda-like shape, and its facades are noticeably sparser than similar buildings in Java. Most Indonesian candis have a second skin in the form of carvings and statues and ancient words etched into worn rock. Candi Brahu, though, bucks the trend. Its outer shell has few markings, and most of those stem from age, erosion and weathering. The base and the faces have no inscriptions, forcing an observer’s focus on the temple’s remarkable shape and symbolism.
Many viewers find their gaze drawn to the temple’s midsection, with its many curves and layers that make the structure look as though it has undergone continuous excavation, one layer at a time. It is an abstract shape that brings to mind the stern, unnatural markings inflicted on mountains by explosive mining operations. But rather than the straight or stepped tiers favoured by many temples in Java, Candi Brahu’s centre follows a curving outline. This shape, in turn, shows the poise and skill of the temple’s creators. In layering bricks of different lengths and widths, from the paada, or base, all the way to the ceiling, they gave the temple its cascading, sibilant shape and made it look like a snake rearing back to strike.
Form of Candi Brahu
This snake, however, has long since transposed to another form, as though the change from reptile to holy place were a natural and common process. And its chosen shape was that of a squat building, 20 metres high, 18 metres wide and nearly 23 metres long. It is made from red bricks. This approach, typical of the Majapahit and Mataram periods, made the temple strong and resistant to the blows of earth tremors and quakes.
Moreover, the red shell of Candi Brahu, in fact, many of the structures in Trowulan, distinguishes them in the grand scheme of Javanese holy sites. Elsewhere on the island, the temples tend to be made of darker, volcanic stones.
Raffles made his fair share of findings on Java. Although he mistook the candi for a gapura, his logic followed a sensible route, in that time had given the temple a gate-like look by splitting Candi Brahu’s west-facing cella, or garbhagriha. The cella is a temple’s inner sanctum, and a sacred space for holy statues and relics. It is a sanctified spot, where the air of ancient faith hangs heavy.
And as this rarified air floats upwards, it rests upon the cella’s ceiling, shaped like an inverted pyramid. Soon enough, the air follows the roof’s contours and traces the many layers of bricks that encase the area. These layers ease the burden of weight across this part of the structure, and they demonstrate the corbelling technique employed by many Javanese engineers, who stacked bricks inward to give ceilings a distinct triangular form.
Kala and Makara
In many Javanese temples, especially those in the central region, charismatic motifs mark the archways, doors and niches. Typically, these markings comprise two elements. The topmost marks depicts the fierce, jawless figure of Kala. This giant has intense, staring eyes, and sharpened fangs designed to rip the life away from each thing it encounters. Kala will never fail in its task. It will find all things, for it embodies the uncaring onset of time and death that one day will devour the cosmos whole.
Beneath Kala lies Makara, the sea dragon. Makara flanks the doorways and hangs on the sides of the bodies it decorates. From there, it shows off its chimeric form, which blends a peacock’s tail, a crocodile’s jaws, a fish’s body and the trunk of an elephant. But despite this flamboyant and confusing appearance, Makara seeks only to cleanse and protect those who cross into sacred realms.
Candi Brahu, though, does not feature Makara, nor do the latter Majapahit-era temples of East Java. Put this absence down to environmental conditions, where the elements wore away motifs and decorations. Or cite the engineers’ stylistic choices, or the fact that red bricks are harder to carve than volcanic stone, rendering the intricate detail required to show Makara too tricky to do justice. Regardless of the truth, only Kala stalks its domain at Candi Brahu, with no sea creature in sight.
Read More: Kampung Pelangi Semarang: The Rainbow Village of Jawa Tengah
Splendid isolation at Candi Brahu
Visitors can find Candi Brahu down an innocuous side road, in a hexagonal area halfway between Jl. Dusun Muteran and Jl. Raya Kejagan. Like many of its brethren, the temple sits in modest, unpretentious grounds that show serious, respectful reverence for the dignified structure at their heart. The healthy-looking lawns are well-tended, the gravel paths that bisect them flat and kept clean. There is little signage and nothing that hijacks a visitor’s focus, meaning their gaze always falls on the temple.
And from Candi Brahu flow quiet, calm frequencies, driven by an all-pervading gravity that still attracts acts of devotion to this day. Sesaji, or sajen, offerings mark the grounds and show the reverence that Candi Brahu evokes. They look like the canang sari so common in Bali. An outer coat of woven banana or palm leaves creates a cradle for flowers, water, coffee, cigarettes and snacks.
These gifts, often left by pilgrims, have many roles. Some people seek blessings or protection, while others look to honour their ancestors or the nature around them. The offerings are dignified and understated, reflecting the modesty of the grounds in which they sit. Few people see who leaves the sesaji. Perhaps this simple act, carried out by a faceless devotee, mirrors the stillness that surrounds Candi Brahu and the enigmatic wellspring from which it draws its power.
Nary a sound
Rice fields and tall trees surround the temple, and they soak up a great deal of noise. The resulting sense of pleasant isolation breeds stillness and reflection, with few distractions. A main road that grants passage to Trowulan and Mojokerto lies close by. But any evidence of this movement comes only in the form of a low-end drone, of the kind that suggests the flow of traffic in the distance. The din is ghostly and detached, as though the vehicles that make it exist only as sound, and it soon fades entirely.
Instead, Candi Brahu’s ecosystem accounts for the main thrum of activity. Ojek drivers mill around at warungs and warkops, joined occasionally by a colleague in command of a bemo van that bounces down the road. Enquiries about the need for food, drink or transport are fleeting and friendly and add depth to the indistinct murmur that plays about the site. Kretek clove cigarettes, recipients of long, hearty draws, release a sweet odour and produce a crackle that hangs in the air and mixes with the smell of cooking oil and motorbike fumes. The resulting fug creates a familiar, evocative sensation that makes the site a fine place in which to sit and ponder, in relative silence, this corner of Indonesia’s complex history.
Buddhist background
Despite extensive reconstruction, much remains absent from Candi Brahu’s current form. An empty void haunts where an altar once stood in the inner sanctum, and experts have supposed that the chamber housed many statues. But these figures, too, have long since vanished.
Eighteenth-century records indicate that Central Javanese noblemen thought the temple resembled a mosque. The tenets of faith are clearly strong, even to the unsighted. Although the temple’s airwaves attune not to Islam but to Hinduism and Buddhism, no one can mistake the site’s pious ambience. Some have even suggested that Candi Brahu served as the centrepiece of a larger Buddhist enclave, given the similar appearance of temples such as Gentong, Mutaran and Tengah.
Candi Brahu’s profile, most notably the circular section of its roof, suggests domishness. The outline indicates that a stupa, a sacred Buddhist space for meditation, prayer and pilgrimage, once sat atop the temple. The discovery of statues, tools and ornaments, each with Buddhist traits and motifs, further confirms this theory, even with the lack of a distinct horseshoe-shaped Buddha arch.
Read More: Wat Phu Champasak: The Sleeping Temple in Southern Laos
Further down the road from Candi Brahu
Further down the road lies another Buddhist site of equal importance: Maha Vihara Mojopahit, the largest Buddhist monastery in Java. Here reclines Indonesia’s largest Buddha statue, in grounds as quiet and as peaceful and as pure as those that enclose Candi Brahu. That, though, is another story for another time.
[Observational editor: Someone’s run out of juice here, haven’t they?]
Things to know
Lokasi
- Jambu Mente Hamlet, Beijijong Village, Trowulan District, Mojokerto Regency, East Java
- Turn down an innocuous side road from Jl. Raya Kejagan. Turn off at Warung bakso & mie ayam bu ita and follow the track, passing Candi Gentong on the right. The road will veer off to the left, which means you’ve reached Candi Brahu
Accommodation
- Mojokerto Classic Homestay [Jl. Jayanegara; approx. £7 / 170,000 IDR for a double room, ensuite, WiFi] worked for us. The homestay was well-placed for walking around, including a very enjoyable stroll to the alun-alun via a couple of kampungs and green spaces, and just out of the way of the main action and noise
- It might not be the right place for the claustrophobic or anxious, however. The rooms are close to each other, and when we stayed, our fellow guests comprised a guy and his female ‘friends’ in town for a ‘holiday’. The companions related to the guy as one would an employer who owned an inordinate amount of you, and the whole party, although chatty, gave off a sinister air of menace. The undercurrent was, for want of a better term, pimpy and sleazy. They just seemed to kick about all day, hovering around the rooms and eyeballing people as they passed by, and asking searching, personal questions. The mood was a bit off, and our hackles rose slightly whenever the guy, his gaze as sharp as daggers, asked what precisely we were into
- Equally, though, you can never legislate for your fellow guests in any accommodation, and we came to no harm, and nothing bad ever happened. If anything, it was an interesting snapshot of one of Java’s subcultures, and the kind of experience you wouldn’t normally have in most places
Getting there and away
- A bus from Surabaya’s Terminal Bungurasih dropped us at Terminal Kertajaya in Mojokerto. Plan for about an hour’s journey, with tickets costing from 9,000 IDR to 20,000 IDR
- To reach Trowulan from Mojokerto, it’s probably best to book transport using Grab or Gojek. Failing that, most ojek drivers will probably be willing to go there, since Trowulan is a well-known site and there’s plenty of scope for customers. It’s about 20 minutes, door to door
- Candi Brahu’s isolated, so visitors will need transport to get there. We used an ojek from the Majapahit Museum (which, it turns out, is opposite Kolam Sergan) on Jl. Brawijaya, and that took about 10 minutes
- Returning to Mojokerto meant taking another ojek via Grab, this time from Indomaret Trowulan 98 on the main road, where Jl. Candi Brahu meets Jl. Totok Kerot. Allow for 20 or so minutes, depending on traffic
- The Indomaret was the nearest visible landmark and an easy place to meet the driver
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