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The
dramatic victory of the Barong is more than a mere symbol
of its preservation, it is a material pledge. Black
magic, the force of death, is not destroyed, but it
is driven away to the graveyard where it belongs; while
the Barong, for whose safety his servants the villagers
have shown their readiness to sacrifice their lives,
returns in triumphant procession to the temple as does
also the mask of Rangda in its covered basket, already
disembodied.
There is a moment in the progress of the fight between
the Barong and Rangda when the victory of the Barong
seems doubtful. It is then that the Kris dancers rush
forward to his defence and furiously attack the witch.
In various parts of Bali they are called differently
Daratan, Penoegdoeg, Ngoerek, Ngoenjing. There are various
interpretations given of their action. In one they are
said to be possessed by boeta-kalas (demons) who form
the retinue of Banaspati Raja, or even to represent
the boeta-kalas themselves, who want to show their readiness
to die for their master. In another their desire to
kill Rangda is enhanced by the spell she casts upon
them, and having no outlet for their rage they turn
their weapons against themselves
Djero
Gede swaggered about round the shrines, looking very
martial and magnificent, his stomach well stuck out,
an over power figure, grotesque and splendid. Men were
now dancing a desultory Mendet, mixed Z the women; there
was a good deal of confusion, especially round the bale
of the Barong Keket. Women were moaning, girls whimpering
with fear, as they strained towards the dark mass of
figures lying on the ground or crowding round the Barong
Bangkal, who stood with Rangda beside Djero Gede. There
were prayers, incense, dense kneeling half-circles,
the thin peep-peeping of the sacrificial chicken. A
woman lying back in the arms of her neighbor talked
continually in a high strange voice, and was answered
by the pemangkoe.
A
shrill uncanny laugh broke from somewhere in the temple
as some one else went for a moment into trance. Gradually
all became quiet; every one was blessed and sprinkled.
All the time, during the excitement of possession, and
the lovely calm procession of the dancers, through the
kaleidoscope of moods, Djero Loeh looked on from her
bale, leaning slightly forward, with nodding head, under
her golden tiaraed head-dress. Gradually all became
quiet; the crowd separated into little groups, the wayang
screens was put up. Lights became scarcer; people drifted
away under the stars. Children peered out of the curtains
where they had been sleeping below the altars. Every
one was preparing for an all-night sitting of Wayangs.
An extraordinary feature of every ceremony or preparation
in Bali is the alternation of noisy confusion and order,
chaos and exquisite design.
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