The Misfortunes of Pak Kaduk
Once upon a time, in the prosperous kingdom of Cempaka Seri, there ruled a Sultan named Indera Sari. This kingdom possessed all the customs and ceremonies befitting a royal court, yet the Sultan harbored a most terrible vice: he was consumed by pride and devoted himself to gambling with such fervor that it became his daily ritual. Following their ruler’s example, all the people of the realm became intoxicated with games of chance, neglecting their prayers and abandoning the righteous path in favor of sinful pursuits.
Near the river’s edge, at the very boundary of this kingdom, dwelt a simple man of middle years called Pak Kaduk. He lived in a humble kampung with his wife, Mak Siti, and though he possessed little wisdom, his heart was filled with dreams far grander than his circumstances.
One morning, as the tropical sun painted the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Pak Kaduk turned to his wife with eyes bright with foolish ambition. “Mak Siti, my dear wife,” he declared, “I have witnessed the grand spectacle of cockfighting at the Sultan’s arena, where men gather with their prized birds and fortunes change with each match. I long to test my luck with our rooster, Si Kunani, the speckled one.”
Mak Siti looked upon her husband with the weary expression of one who had long endured his simple-minded schemes. “And what of Si Kunani makes you think he can triumph where others have failed?”
“Ah, but you see,” Pak Kaduk replied, his chest swelling with pride, “our rooster possesses extraordinary luck! I am certain of it. We could wager our entire kampung to the Sultan himself. Should Si Kunani prove victorious, we shall win the royal treasury!”
Though her heart filled with dread, Mak Siti knew her husband’s determination once kindled could not be extinguished. “If such is your wish,” she sighed, “then go, but prepare yourself properly.”
“Indeed I shall!” Pak Kaduk exclaimed. “Fashion me a splendid outfit from this fine paper I have purchased. Make it quickly, for I must appear before the Sultan as befits a champion!”
“Paper?” Mak Siti gasped. “Husband, surely you jest! Such clothing will tear at the slightest movement. You will find yourself naked before the entire court!”
But Pak Kaduk waved away her concerns. “Nonsense! Paper is magnificent and modern. Simply paste it together—no need for stitching. Speed is of the essence!”
With trembling hands and a heavy heart, Mak Siti cut and pasted together a suit of paper clothing, decorated with bright patterns of frangipani flowers in red, yellow, black, and white. When completed, Pak Kaduk donned the fragile garment along with a paper tengkolok headdress that resembled an eagle catching the wind. In his mind, he appeared as magnificent as any champion who had ever entered the fighting arena.
Thus attired, Pak Kaduk captured Si Kunani, secured the rooster’s fighting spurs, and strode confidently toward the Sultan’s cockfighting arena. The paper rustled with each step, but his pride rendered him deaf to such warnings.
Upon arriving at the grand arena, where silk banners fluttered in the breeze and the air thrummed with excitement, Pak Kaduk found himself before Sultan Indera Sari, who sat upon his throne beneath a golden payung.
“Ah, Pak Kaduk!” the Sultan called out, recognizing the simple man. “Have you brought a bird to test against mine?”
Pak Kaduk bowed deeply, presenting Si Kunani with ceremonial reverence. The Sultan examined the speckled rooster with the eye of an expert and immediately recognized the bird’s exceptional spirit and strength.
“My dear Pak Kaduk,” the Sultan said with honeyed words, “let us exchange roosters. Take my bird instead—observe his beautiful white eyes like precious stones, and his noble bearing. Your simple speckled rooster could never match such magnificence.”
Flattered by the Sultan’s apparent generosity and blind to the deception, Pak Kaduk readily agreed. “Your Majesty’s wisdom surpasses all understanding. I am honored to accept your gracious offer.”
The exchange was made, and the Sultan’s heart rejoiced at acquiring Si Kunani, while Pak Kaduk remained blissfully unaware of his folly.
The Sultan then commanded his master trainer to prepare Si Kunani for battle, fitting the rooster with the finest curved spurs and performing the ritual preparations with ancient incantations. Meanwhile, Pak Kaduk, lacking such knowledge, fitted his new rooster’s spurs backwards—the sharp points facing inward toward the bird’s own body.
“Now then, Pak Kaduk,” the Sultan announced, “what shall we wager on this match?”
Pak Kaduk bowed low. “Your Majesty, I possess nothing of value save my kampung. If it please you, I would mortgage my village for fifty silver ringgit.”
The Sultan’s eyes gleamed with avarice. “Agreed!” He matched the wager, bringing the total stakes to one hundred silver ringgit.
The moment of truth arrived. Both men released their birds into the arena. Si Kunani, now fighting for the Sultan, displayed magnificent aggression, his feathers bristling with battle fury. The Sultan’s former rooster, now belonging to Pak Kaduk, fought bravely but was doomed by the backwards spurs. In striking at his opponent, he wounded himself mortally, collapsing in the dust with two fatal wounds—one from Si Kunani’s spur and one from his own misplaced blade.
Pak Kaduk, witnessing his borrowed rooster’s victory, forgot entirely that he had exchanged birds with the Sultan. Overcome with joy, he leaped high into the air, clapping his hands and cheering for what he believed was his own triumph.
But the vigorous celebration proved catastrophic. His paper clothing, subjected to such violent movement, began to tear and shred. Piece by piece, the colorful fragments scattered on the wind until Pak Kaduk stood completely naked before the Sultan, his court, and the assembled crowd.
The sight of the simple man’s humiliation sent ripples of laughter through the arena. The Sultan himself could not suppress his mirth, and soon the entire gathering was convulsed with amusement.
Only then did Pak Kaduk realize his predicament. Looking down at his exposed body, shame crashed over him like a great wave. Without a word, he fled the arena, running toward home with all his strength while the Sultan’s voice echoed behind him:
“Behold the misfortune of Pak Kaduk! His rooster won, but his village is lost!”
When Pak Kaduk reached his home, Mak Siti was startled by his naked, frantic appearance. “Husband, what evil has befallen you? You appear as one touched by madness!”
Through tears and gasping breaths, Pak Kaduk recounted his adventures. Upon hearing the tale, Mak Siti wept bitterly, for she understood that they had lost everything through her husband’s foolishness.
Some days later, misfortune struck again. Pak Kaduk received two invitations to feasts—one from neighbors downriver who would slaughter a water buffalo at noon, and another from friends upriver who would prepare two cattle at midday. Eager to attend both celebrations, he accepted both invitations.
The next morning, Mak Siti prepared his usual breakfast of cold rice soaked overnight in water. But Pak Kaduk, anticipating the grand feasts awaiting him, declared, “I need not eat such simple fare today! Pour it out for the chickens—I shall dine on buffalo and beef!”
Mak Siti sadly discarded the rice as instructed, and Pak Kaduk set out in his boat, planning to attend both feasts.
However, the river was at low tide, flowing swiftly downstream. Pak Kaduk reasoned that traveling downstream would be effortless, but worried about the timing. He decided to paddle upstream first, fighting against the current.
The struggle proved exhausting. Each time he stopped to rest, the current swept him backward, erasing his progress. He would paddle frantically upstream, pause from fatigue, drift downstream again, then repeat the cycle. By the time he reached the upstream feast, the tide had turned, and the celebration had ended.
The disappointed host told him, “Pak Kaduk, I pity your wasted effort. The food is gone, the guests departed. How unlucky you are!”
Undeterred, Pak Kaduk immediately set out downstream for the second feast, but now the tide was flowing inland, making downstream travel equally difficult. Fighting the current under the scorching sun, growing weak from hunger and thirst, he finally arrived at the second celebration just as the guests were departing.
Seeing that this feast too had ended, Pak Kaduk didn’t even attempt to land. He turned his boat around and began the arduous journey home, grumbling like a catfish being beaten, his energy spent from paddling back and forth in the blazing heat.
When he finally reached home at sunset, exhausted and famished, Mak Siti inquired about his day. “Husband, you went to feast on buffalo and beef. Why do you return looking so sour? Surely your belly is full of fine meat?”
Pak Kaduk’s frustration, accumulated throughout the day, suddenly erupted. “Full? Full of your father’s head!” he shouted, seizing a piece of firewood and striking his wife’s head in his rage.
By Allah’s decree, though he struck but once, Mak Siti fell and died instantly. When Pak Kaduk saw what he had done, he collapsed beside his wife’s body, weeping and rolling on the ground in anguish.
“Woe is me!” he cried. “I exhausted myself paddling upstream and down, suffered hunger and thirst, and now I have killed my own wife through my foolishness!”
After arranging for his wife’s burial, Pak Kaduk resolved to leave his kampung forever. He believed that remaining in his ancestral home brought nothing but misfortune. Packing his few possessions into his boat, he sailed toward the river mouth, intending to live with a friend there.
But even this simple journey became a trial. Though he raised his sail when the wind was strong, the moment he was ready to depart, the wind died completely, as if spite itself conspired against him. His boat drifted aimlessly until evening, when exhaustion forced him to drop anchor and sleep.
During the night, a powerful wind arose, but by then Pak Kaduk was deep in slumber. “Cursed wind!” he muttered without waking. “You mock me with your timing. I’ll not dance to your whims!”
The next morning, he laboriously paddled the remaining distance to his friend’s house, where he settled permanently, never again returning to his birthplace.
And so ended the tale of Pak Kaduk, whose name became a byword for foolish misfortune. The people of the kingdom composed a verse that mothers still recite to their children as a warning against pride and poor judgment:
“Alas, poor Pak Kaduk’s fate!
His rooster won, his village lost...
Rice was poured upon the ground,
Yet he returned with hunger found...
Upstream he fought the ebbing tide,
Downstream battled waters wide...
His wife he killed in senseless rage,
Near starved himself at middle age...
When sailing time, no wind would blow,
At anchor, gales began to grow...
His home he left to wander long,
Forever marked by fortune’s wrong.”
Thus we learn that wisdom lies not in grand ambitions or foolish pride, but in accepting our place with gratitude and treating others with kindness. For those who reach beyond their station through deception and folly, like Pak Kaduk, will find that fortune’s wheel turns swiftly, and what seems like victory often conceals the seeds of greater defeat.
And if Pak Kaduk has not learned wisdom in his wandering, he may be wandering still, a reminder that contentment comes not from what we gain, but from appreciating what we already possess.