Princess Bidasari and a Gold Fish
Once upon a time, in the ancient Malay kingdom of Kembayat Negara, where fragrant blossoms filled the air and the rivers sang old songs, there ruled a King and Queen who possessed great wisdom but carried a heavy sorrow in their hearts—they had no child to inherit their throne.
Day after day, they offered prayers and made offerings of yellow rice and sweet incense at the royal pavilion. At last, Heaven heard their pleas. The Queen conceived, and the entire kingdom rejoiced with martial arts performances and the beating of drums that echoed through all seven villages.
But as is often the way with joy, sorrow followed close behind. A terrible garuda—a beast of wing and flame—descended from the mountain heights, destroying fields, livestock, and homes. With heavy hearts, the King and his pregnant Queen fled into the deep jungle, accompanied only by their most faithful servant.
By a bend in the river, under a crescent moon, the Queen gave birth beneath a canopy of palm fronds. The midwife gasped in wonder, for the newborn daughter glowed with light as soft as candlelight. At that very moment, a golden fish leaped from the river, as if summoned by the heavens themselves. The wise midwife whispered, “This princess—her life is bound to that fish.”
Fearing the garuda would find them, the royal couple placed their daughter and the sacred fish into a small boat carved with prayers. With tears streaming down their faces, they released the boat to the current. The King recited prayers for safe journey as the little vessel drifted away, disappearing into the dawn mists.
The river carried the child to the neighboring kingdom of Indrapura. There, a wealthy merchant and his wife—who had long yearned for a child but remained childless—discovered the boat near their village. Amazed by the glowing baby and the golden fish, they brought both home. They named the child Bidasari and kept the fish in a marble pool lined with jasmine flowers.
Years passed, and under the merchant couple’s loving care, Bidasari grew into a maiden whose beauty outshone the evening star. Her batik cloth flowed like the river of her birth, and her voice was sweet as bamboo flutes. But her parents guarded a secret: whenever the fish was removed from water, Bidasari would collapse, breathless, her soul held in suspension.
Now in the palace of Indrapura lived Queen Lila Sari, as cold as her magical ring and proud as the peak of the mountain. She possessed a magic mirror framed with blackwood and bound with incantations that could tell no lies.
Each morning she would ask, “My sacred mirror, who is the most beautiful in this land?”
For years, the mirror would reply, “You, my Queen.”
Until one day, it whispered, “Princess Bidasari, daughter of common folk.”
Enraged, Queen Lila Sari summoned the merchant and proposed to take Bidasari into the palace, claiming she would adopt her as a royal attendant. Out of respect and perhaps ambition, the merchant agreed. Bidasari, ever dutiful, obeyed her parents’ wishes and entered the palace.
But there was no honor in those royal halls. Her beautiful silk dress was stripped away and replaced with coarse rags. She was made to scrub the marble floors and serve at royal feasts with blistered hands. Even so, her face glowed like lamplight.
Frustrated beyond measure, Lila Sari cornered her one evening and demanded to know her secret. Through tears, Bidasari confessed that her life was tied to a golden fish in her family’s home.
That very night, the Queen sent her sorcerer and guards to steal the fish. As the fish gasped in the dry air, Bidasari fell into a deathlike slumber, her skin turning cold as young fern shoots after rain.
Satisfied, Lila Sari kept the fish close, hung in a small pot around her neck, and cast Bidasari’s body into a secluded tomb, ordering that no rites be performed. The mirror, now pleased, declared her once more the fairest.
But truth flows like the river, and cannot be stopped forever.
The King’s son, Prince Indera, born of his first wife, began to dream of a sleeping maiden shrouded in morning mist. Compelled by a longing he could not name, he rode with his warriors into the forest.
After days of searching, they discovered the hidden tomb, covered in creeping vines and moss. Inside, beneath a yellow cloth, lay Bidasari, untouched by decay or time. That night, as the moon rose full, her fingers stirred.
At the palace, while Lila Sari bathed in a pool of scented flowers, she set aside the pendant holding the fish. The moment it touched water again, far away, Bidasari’s eyes opened.
Prince Indera, witnessing this miracle, rushed back to the palace. He demanded the pendant from Lila Sari. She refused, mocked him, and called him mad.
The next day, before the ministers and commanders in open court, the Prince snatched the small pot from her neck and dropped the fish into a crystal vessel. A great wind rose, the palace trembled, and news arrived: Bidasari had awakened.
Cornered at last, Lila Sari reached for her dagger, but in her rage stumbled against her magic mirror. It cracked, then shattered completely. A shard pierced her heart, and her final breath was a curse swallowed by silence.
In the days that followed, the old merchant came forth, and so too did the King and Queen of Kembayat Negara, now aged but drawn by tales of a golden fish and a girl of royal bearing.
Bidasari’s true origins were revealed through her birthmark and a royal dagger wrapped in her baby cloth. She was embraced by both her adoptive and birth families, and all rejoiced.
Her wedding to Prince Indera was celebrated with drumming, betel leaves, and a procession that lasted seven days and seven nights. She became Queen of Indrapura, ruling with justice and kindness.
And in the palace garden, they built a tiered pool where a golden fish still swims beneath the lotus flowers.
Thus ends the tale of Bidasari, the princess whose soul once lived in a fish, whose patience conquered envy, and whose love bridged two kingdoms. And they lived in love and honor, happily ever after.