The Swordfish Attack on Singapura
Once upon a time, when the tropical winds still carried the whispers of ancient spirits across the Malay seas, there lived a wise merchant and scholar named Tun Jana Khatib in the distant kingdom of Pasai. This good man, learned in the ways of Allah and blessed with a gentle heart, journeyed to the island kingdom of Singapura to begin a new chapter of his life, bringing with him both his trade and his devotion to helping others.
The people of Singapura came to revere Tun Jana Khatib, for he was soft-spoken and courteous in all his dealings, and he spent his days performing acts of charity and assisting the local inhabitants. His reputation for kindness spread throughout the kampong like the sweet fragrance of frangipani blossoms on the evening breeze.
One fateful day, as Tun Jana Khatib walked past the Sultan’s palace, he paused beneath a tall areca nut palm—the very tree whose nuts were chewed with betel leaf by the royal court. The Sultan’s wife, the Permaisuri, happened to be watching from her window as the scholar stood in contemplation before the sacred tree.
As she observed, Tun Jana Khatib approached the palm and gently touched its trunk. In that instant, as if touched by divine power, the mighty tree split cleanly in two and fell to the earth with a tremendous crash. The Permaisuri gasped in amazement at this miraculous sight, and Tun Jana Khatib quietly departed, unaware that he had been witnessed.
When the Sultan discovered the fallen palm, he demanded an explanation from his wife. Upon learning that a man from Pasai had caused this marvel, the Sultan’s heart filled with rage and suspicion. In his jealousy and fear of such mysterious power, he ordered that Tun Jana Khatib be seized and executed at Hujung Pasar—the place now known as Kampung Gelam.
When the palace guards captured the innocent scholar, Tun Jana Khatib faced his fate with the dignity of a true believer. He declared: “Hear me well, all of you! I accept this death willingly! But know that this unjust Sultan shall not escape consequence. He shall pay dearly for his cruelty, and mark my words—Singapura shall know chaos and terrible calamity!”
Swift as lightning, the executioner’s kris found its mark, and Tun Jana Khatib fell to the earth. But when they came to bear his body to the burial ground, a wondrous and terrible thing occurred. According to the old legends, the scholar’s body vanished like morning mist, leaving only his blood upon the ground, while the people stood bewildered and afraid.
Within moments, thunder and lightning shook the very foundations of Singapura, followed by earth-shaking booms that sent the people fleeing in terror. When they returned to the execution site, they found that Tun Jana Khatib’s blood had turned to stone. Meanwhile, far away on the shores of Langkawi island, the missing body appeared on the beach, and the islanders, recognizing the holy man, buried him with honor in the ancient cemetery called Makam Purba.
The people of old believed that this unjust execution brought a curse upon Singapura, for not long after Tun Jana Khatib’s death, a most extraordinary and terrible thing came to pass. Hundreds upon hundreds of swordfish suddenly leaped from the sea and attacked the shores of Singapura, their razor-sharp bills piercing anyone who stood upon the beach. Many innocent people perished from these deadly strikes, and a state of emergency gripped the entire kingdom.
The swordfish assault horrified the people of Singapura so greatly that the Sultan himself, Paduka Seri Maharaja, mounted his royal elephant to witness the carnage at the beach. His heart grew heavy with sorrow as he beheld his subjects falling beneath the relentless attack of the fish.
To combat this plague, the Sultan commanded his people to form a barrier of human legs along the shoreline, believing this would prevent the swordfish from reaching land. After seeing the situation grow more desperate, he ordered all the inhabitants of Singapura to make this sacrifice with their own limbs.
Alas, this proved to be a most foolish plan, for it caused even more of his people to die. The swordfish simply pierced through the legs of the defenders, and the attacks grew fiercer rather than weaker!
Now, in this kingdom there lived a clever and intelligent boy named Hang Nadim, who was but seven years old. After witnessing these brutal attacks, young Hang Nadim conceived a plan to defeat the vicious swordfish. Without delay, he requested an audience with the Sultan, who had grown desperate and could no longer lead his kingdom wisely.
“Your Majesty,” said Hang Nadim respectfully, “I believe that if we continue to order your subjects to use their legs to stop the swordfish, even more people of Singapura will perish.”
“Little one,” replied the Sultan, “do you have a better plan to offer me?”
“Yes, Your Majesty! I believe it would be better if we use banana tree trunks to fight the swordfish attacks,” answered Hang Nadim.
“Banana trunks? How would that work, young Hang Nadim?” asked the Sultan in wonder.
“We can use banana tree trunks as barriers all along our coastline. When the swordfish attack, their bills will become stuck in the soft trunks. Once the fish are trapped, the people can strike them down until they are all dead,” explained the boy.
When the Sultan heard Hang Nadim’s words, he recognized their wisdom. Without hesitation, he commanded all his subjects to plant banana tree trunks along the entire shoreline to create this clever defense.
Indeed, Hang Nadim’s plan proved successful, and all the swordfish were defeated, saving the kingdom of Singapura. The Sultan ordered the banana trunk barriers to be erected, and the people of Singapura were saved from death by the swordfish attacks. Soon after, the assault ceased entirely. According to the Sejarah Melayu, so many swordfish had been killed that their bodies piled up on the beach in such quantities that the people of Singapura could not consume them all.
The Sultan rejoiced greatly and showered Hang Nadim with magnificent gifts. He was deeply grateful that Singapura had been blessed with such a brilliant and clever child.
After the attacks ended, the Sultan returned to his palace in triumph. But sadly, the court officials and nobles felt consumed by jealousy and envy toward Hang Nadim’s intelligence. They feared that the boy would take their places as the Sultan’s advisors and that he would become more influential and powerful than they.
“This boy is still small, yet he is so wise. When he grows up, he will surely become even wiser. I am certain the Sultan will make him his chief advisor,” said the Tun Bendahara, who led the other court officials.
“Hang Nadim must be killed, my brothers! I will persuade the Sultan to execute the boy with all your support,” added the Tun Bendahara angrily.
In the palace, there were officials who whispered poison in the Sultan’s ear, suggesting he should kill Hang Nadim because they feared his intelligence would cause them to lose their power. The court nobles conspired together to convince the Sultan to execute Hang Nadim. They counseled the Sultan to kill the brilliant boy, claiming that when he reached adulthood, he would become even more cunning. Indeed, they succeeded in convincing the Sultan that if Hang Nadim grew wiser and reached his teenage years, he would surely attempt to seize the royal crown.
Hearing these baseless accusations from his corrupt officials, the Sultan of Singapura immediately sentenced Hang Nadim to death without trial, despite all the boy had done to serve the kingdom. Without thinking deeply, he ordered Hang Nadim’s execution, learning nothing from the tragic fate of Tun Jana Khatib.
With cruel brutality, Hang Nadim was bound with iron chains and thrown into the sea while still alive. All the people of Singapura felt deep sorrow at Hang Nadim’s death, but they were too frightened and powerless to oppose this injustice.
Thus ends the tale of the Swordfish Attack on Singapura, which began with injustice toward Tun Jana Khatib and ended with the same cruelty toward Hang Nadim. Today, the name of Hang Nadim remains in the pages of history as the clever little boy who saved the kingdom of Singapura from the swordfish attack, yet whose great service was repaid with cruelty and injustice, without defense or mercy.
The moral of this tale is clear: A kingdom that does not learn from its past mistakes is doomed to repeat them. When rulers allow fear and jealousy to guide their actions rather than justice and wisdom, they bring ruin upon themselves and suffering upon their people. The wise shall be remembered long after the cruel are forgotten, and the innocent blood spilled by tyrants will cry out against them until the end of time.
And so it was in the days of old, and so it shall be until the end of days, when the sea gives up its dead and justice is served to all.