(a) Creation of Man
A common feature in Malay romances and legends is a description of the supernatural development of a young child in the interior of some vegetable production, usually a bamboo.
Sir W. E. Maxwell has pointed out the fact of the existence, both in Malay and Japanese legends, of the main features of this story, to which he assigns a Buddhistic origin. He tells the story as follows:—
“The Raja of the Bamboo.—Some years ago I collected a number of legends current among Malayan tribes having as their principal incident the supernatural development of a prince, princess, or demi-god in the stem of a bamboo, or tree, or the interior of some closed receptacle.[1] I omitted, however, to mention that this very characteristic Malay myth occurs in the “Sri Rama,” a Malay prose hikayat,[2] which, as its name betokens, professes to describe the adventures of the hero of the Râmâyana.
“Roorda van Eysinga’s edition of the Sri Rama opens with an account of how Maharaja Dasaratha sent his Chief Mantri,[3] Puspa Jaya Karma, to search for a suitable place at which to found a settlement. The site having been found and cleared, the narrative proceeds as follows:—
“‘Now there was a clump of the bĕtong[4] bamboo (sa’rumpun buluh bĕtong), the colour of which was like gold of ten touch (amas sapuloh mutu), and its leaves like silver. All the trees which grew near bent in its direction, and it looked like a state umbrella (payong manuwangi[5]). The Mantri and people chopped at it, but as fast as they cut down a branch on one side, a fresh one shot forth on the other, to the great astonishment of all the Rajas, Mantris, and warriors. Puspa Vikrama Jaya hastened back to King Dasaratha and laid the matter before him. The latter was greatly surprised, and declared that he would go himself the next day and see the bamboo cut down. Next day he set out on a white elephant, attended by a splendid train of chiefs and followers, and on reaching the spot ordered the bamboo clump to be cut down. Vikrama Puspa Jaya pointed it out, shaded by the other forest trees. The king perceived that it was of very elegant appearance, and that an odour like spices and musk proceeded from it. He told Puspa Jaya Vikrama to cut it down, and the latter drew his sword, which was as big as the stem of a cocoa-nut tree, and with one stroke cut down one of the bamboos. But immediately a fresh stem shot forth on the other side, and this happened as often as a stroke was given. Then the king grew wroth, and getting down from his elephant he drew his own sword and made a cut with it at the bamboo, which severed a stem. Then, by the divine decree of the Dewatas, the king became aware of a female form in the bamboo clump seated on a highly ornamented platform (gĕta), her face shining like the full moon when it is fourteen days old, and the colour of her body being like gold of ten touch. On this, King Dasaratha quickly unloosed his girdle and saluted the princess. Then he lifted her on to his elephant and took her to his palace escorted by music and singing.’”[6]
I myself have heard among the Selangor Malays similar legends to the above, which, as already pointed out, are common in Malay romances. A parallel myth is described in the following words:—
“Now, the Perak river overflows its banks once a year, and sometimes there are very great floods. Soon after the marriage of Nakhodah Kasim with the white Semang,[7] an unprecedented flood occurred and quantities of foam came down the river. Round the piles of the bathing-house, which, in accordance with Malay custom, stood in the bed of the river close to the bank in front of the house, the floating volumes of foam collected in a mass the size of an elephant. Nakhodah Kasim’s wife went to bathe, and finding this island of froth in her way she attempted to move it away with a stick; she removed the upper portion of it and disclosed a female infant sitting in the midst of it enveloped all round with cloud-like foam. The child showed no fear, and the white Semang, carefully lifting her, carried her up to the house, heralding her discovery by loud shouts to her husband. The couple adopted the child willingly, for they had no children, and they treated her thenceforward as their own. They assembled the villagers and gave them a feast, solemnly announcing their adoption of the daughter of the river and their intention of leaving to her everything that they possessed.
“The child was called Tan Puteh, but her father gave her the name of Teh Purba.[8] As she grew up the wealth of her foster-parents increased; the village grew in extent and population, and gradually became an important place.”[9]