Night began to envelop the sky over Jogja. The sound of crickets echoed back and forth from the garden behind Pak Karto's house. The old chandelier in the living room cast a dim, yellowish light, adding a peaceful atmosphere to the room.
Marlon brewed another cup of secang herbal tea, then slowly started the conversation.
"Pak Karto, so here's the thing... the three of us are conducting a small study on how moral values—both those considered good and bad—play a role in human life."
Pak Karto nodded slowly. "You mean... values like sin and reward, right?"
"More or less," Romo replied. "But we're using a framework from the history of philosophy and religion as well. There's a concept called the Seven Deadly Sins and the Seven Heavenly Virtues. Have you heard of them, Pak?"
Pak Karto frowned. "Wow... all in English, son. I don't quite understand..."
Marlon chuckled softly. "Yes, Pak. Let me try to explain. So, the 'Seven Deadly Sins' are like seven major sins from old teachings. They are—pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony, and lust."
"Oh... like diseases of the heart, huh?" Pak Karto replied with an amused smile.
"Exactly," said Riri. "And the opposite is called the Seven Heavenly Virtues: humility, kindness, patience, diligence, generosity, self-control, and charity."
Pak Karto tasted some geplak sweets, then nodded and said, "I understand now. So, it's two sides of life... like light and dark. But why is this the topic of your research?"
Marlon leaned forward, enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "Because we feel... the real world isn't as black-and-white as theory. Sometimes those seven sins show up in a human way. For example, greed can drive the economy. Or anger can arise when someone is defending the oppressed. So we want to know: is everything supposed to be avoided, or... maybe there's a balance that needs to be learned?"
Pak Karto nodded slowly, then laughed lightly. "Never thought young people these days think that deeply. When I was young, I only thought about finding a job and a wife."
Riri smiled. "We think about those things too, Pak... but also about human life."
"Ah, yes. Good. So... what does this have to do with Jogja?"
Romo answered carefully. "Well, that's what we want to explore too. Since yesterday we've been touring Jogja, it feels... calm, peaceful. The people are neat and unhurried. Very different from other cities we've visited. We're curious—is this because of the culture, or is there a leader behind it all?"
Pak Karto looked at them for a moment, then gently put down his cup. His face turned more serious, yet remained calm.
"I'm just a simple man, son. But since childhood, my life has been around the palace. And one thing we hold here: the Sultan is not just an administrative leader. He is a spiritual role model. There's a phrase: 'Ngayogyakarta Hadiningrat'—which means a place that gives true peace. And it's not just a name. It's an ideal."
"So the people of Jogja are educated from within?" asked Riri.
"Not only educated, but also enlightened," Pak Karto replied. "The Sultan is like a midnight light. He doesn't force, but sets an example. If the leader is gentle, the people follow gently. If the leader is harsh, the people won't hesitate to be harsh too."
Marlon quickly took notes on his phone, then said, "So harmony isn't because of rules, but because of the influence of example, right, Pak?"
Pak Karto smiled broadly. "Yes. Jogja isn't a city built by law, but by feeling."
The room fell silent for a moment. Only the sound of a spoon touching a cup could be heard.
Riri finally spoke softly, "Maybe that's also why values like humility, patience, and charity feel alive here. It's like... virtues aren't taught, but transmitted."
Pak Karto nodded. "You can study big things. But don't forget, sometimes the secret of life is in small things... like how people greet each other, how they bargain in the market, or how they place their sandals in the mosque."
The evening breeze slipped gently through the wooden window of Pak Karto's front room. Outside, the sky began to change to a soft orange. The scent of old wood mixed with ginger tea started to warm their bodies.
Marlon sat cross-legged, fingers swirling a small spoon in his cup. He looked thoughtful.
"Pak, if I may ask..." he said softly, "why is the difference between Jogja and other cities so striking? Is it solely because of the leader like the Sultan, or is there something else playing a big role?"
Pak Karto slowly set down his cup, his eyes gazing for a moment before answering.
"That's a good question, son. Jogja is like a garden. If the garden is neat and beautiful, of course there's a diligent gardener. But also... the soil, the weather, and the seeds planted all matter."
Riri added, "So it's not just about the leader, but also culture and maybe... the education system?"
"Yes," Pak Karto replied with a smile. "The Sultan is indeed a role model, but since we were kids, we've been taught to 'eling lan waspada'—to remember and be cautious. We're invited to feel before acting. Not just obey the law, but be sensitive to feeling."
Romo nodded. "It makes me think... the current system is democracy, right? But could a sultanate like here actually balance feeling and logic better?"
Pak Karto laughed softly. "That question has been around since the Dutch era, son. But here's my answer: democracy gives everyone a voice, a sultanate gives a consistent example from one direction. The problem isn't which is better, but whether the leader can keep their trust."
Marlon leaned back against the wall. "So actually, the system works or not depending on who runs it, right, Pak?"
"Exactly," Pak Karto said. "Democracy can break if those chosen are only good talkers but bad doers. A sultanate can be dangerous if the king's heart is filled with desire."
Riri nodded slowly, then said, "But here, it seems the people trust the Sultan, right, Pak?"
"Not just trust. We consider the Sultan like a parent. Not because of power, but because of love that has been passed down for generations. The Sultan doesn't need to appear on big billboards. When he speaks once, the people listen—not out of fear... but respect."
Silence gently filled the room. The three students looked at each other. It felt like a fog was slowly lifting—they began to see something invisible all this time.
Marlon looked at the floor, then whispered, "Maybe we've been too busy debating forms of government... until we forgot the most important thing is who runs it and how they treat their people."
Pak Karto smiled widely, then stood up carrying a tray with pieces of ketan kinca.
"Well, before this talk gets heavier, better fill your stomachs first. Philosophy can be high, but the stomach must stay humble."
They laughed, and the night continued with light conversation, but their hearts remained full of reflection.
They laughed quietly together, but deep inside, a feeling grew that tonight would become one of the most precious nights in their journey.
The sky shifted to night colors. Dim lights lit up outside Pak Karto's house. The scent of cinnamon and ginger from the tea still in their cups made the atmosphere feel warm and homely.
Romo looked at Pak Karto with a serious but gentle gaze.
"Pak... if I may ask," he said softly, "how is religious life in Jogja? I notice the atmosphere feels calm, different from other cities. Is it really as peaceful as it seems from the outside? I mean... are there often conflicts between majorities and minorities here? Like what's often reported from other cities?"
Pak Karto smiled faintly. He adjusted his sitting position, then looked at Romo with calm eyes.
"Your question is like the night breeze, Mo... it comes gently but can give you goosebumps," he said, followed by a soft chuckle from Marlon and Riri.
"Yogyakarta," he continued slowly, "has long been a place of transit and meetings. Many brothers and sisters from outside come here to study, trade, or settle down. From there, we learned to see people not by the clothes they wear in worship, but by their behavior."
Riri interrupted, "So that means there are Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Catholics, and of course Muslims… all living side by side?"
Pak Karto nodded. "Exactly. And don't forget, there are also those who embrace ancestral beliefs — what you call 'penghayat.' All are accommodated. It doesn't mean there are never any clashes, but how we respond makes the difference. We believe in the principle of 'hamemayu hayuning bawana.' Maintaining the harmony of the world. Not just passive tolerance, but living to nurture one another."
Marlon frowned. "Passive tolerance means like… 'as long as you don't bother me,' right?"
"Precisely," Pak Karto replied. "Here, for example, during Nyepi Day, even non-Hindus help keep the peace. If a church is holding a big event, neighbors pitch in to help prepare. During Ramadan, Christians often bring food for breaking the fast. That's normal here."
Romo looked thoughtful. "So it's not just about living side by side, but also protecting each other's spiritual space, right, Pak?"
Pak Karto nodded again, more deeply. "Because we believe if others can pray peacefully, their prayers can also be a blessing for us. Even though our directions of prayer differ, we are all speaking to the same God in different languages."
Riri glanced at Romo and added softly, "Mo, do you remember when we talked about how 'virtue' becomes real in daily interactions? This is one example."
Romo nodded, his eyes shining. "Yes... this is a form of kindness and patience, but also humility. People here don't seem to think they are absolutely right, yet they calmly maintain their beliefs."
Pak Karto smiled. "We believe in what we hold true, but we also know God will not unleash His anger just because someone differs from us. But maybe He will be angry... if we oppress His creation in His name."
Everyone fell silent for a moment. No sound but the ticking of the old clock in the corner.
Then Marlon quietly blurted, "Pak... I'm starting to be afraid. Afraid I'll get too comfortable in Yogyakarta."
Pak Karto laughed heartily. "Relax, son. Feeling comfortable is human. But don't forget to go home. Because our homeland is not only Yogyakarta, but every place we can make peaceful."
They all smiled, and dusk truly gave way to night.
The night sounds began to gently embrace the city. Outside Pak Karto's house, crickets chirped back and forth, as if reciting poetry from the land of Java. The oil lamp in the corner cast shadows that danced slowly on the walls.
Riri looked at her nearly empty cup, then spoke softly to open a new topic.
"Pak Karto... may I ask something a little... beyond logic?"
Pak Karto smiled gently. "Please, Mbak Riri. Here in Yogyakarta, the unseen is not taboo."
Marlon quickly added, "We had some experiences at the market. We stayed a week at Bu Siti's house, and during that time... it felt like there were not only humans there. Some nights, we heard sounds that didn't seem human, or the atmosphere suddenly felt very heavy. Like... something invisible was present."
Riri added, "At first, we thought it was just feelings. But the longer it went on, the clearer it became. Even one of us seemed possessed, or... disturbed. We started wondering, is this really the reality in some places in Indonesia? Or are we just too tired?"
Pak Karto nodded slowly, then took a deep breath. "You are touching another side of life. In this land, especially Java, we believe the world is inhabited not only by humans. There are other beings living alongside us."
Romo looked a bit tense but asked calmly, "What about in the palace environment, Pak? Are supernatural things also felt there?"
Pak Karto glanced out the window for a moment before answering. "In the palace... that's actually the strongest place to feel such things. But don't misunderstand. The supernatural here does not mean frightening. They are not 'ghosts' as often imagined in movies. They are part of the balance. In our culture, they are sometimes called 'halus,' subtle siblings."
Marlon frowned. "Siblings?"
"Yes," Pak Karto said. "They exist to protect, not just to scare. But like humans, if not respected, they can get angry. If honored, they become good guardians. In the palace, there are areas that can only be entered with permission because they are considered spiritual spaces also inhabited by unseen beings."
Riri asked softly, "So how do the people of Yogyakarta respond to that?"
Pak Karto smiled wisely. "With awareness. We are taught to live eling lan waspada—mindful and alert. Not everything can be explained rationally, but that doesn't mean it should be feared. In many homes, there are still small offerings in corners—not to worship, but as a symbol of respect for spaces and energies we cannot see. Like sweeping the floor, even though not all dirt is visible."
Romo remained silent, absorbing, weighing his beliefs against the reality he saw.
Pak Karto glanced at Romo and said softly, "Religion teaches us to believe in the unseen. But culture teaches us to live alongside it. They are not contradictory, as long as we do not replace God with the supernatural. That is the difference."
Marlon murmured, "So what matters is not what we see or don't see, but how we treat everything in this world, right, Pak?"
"Exactly, Le. This world is vast... wider than any map we have. And sometimes, the wisest isn't the one who knows the most... but the one who shows the most respect."
The three nodded slowly. Night deepened, but their minds opened wider than before.
The night breeze still blew softly through the cracks of Pak Karto's wooden house. The scent of wedang uwuh left in the cup kept the atmosphere warm, even as their conversation began to touch deeper topics.
Pak Karto glanced briefly at the backyard, then said slowly, "You asked earlier about the abdi dalem, right? Maybe now's the time for me to tell you…"
Marlon, Riri, and Romo leaned back comfortably, listening with keen curiosity.
"Abdi dalem," Pak Karto began, "literally means 'inner servant.' But it's not like a household servant. We are people who dedicate ourselves to serving the palace — serving the culture, and serving the values. We uphold traditions, protocols, even small things like the way we walk or speak within the palace environment."
Riri leaned forward, "So, kind of like… guardians of heritage?"
"Exactly, Miss Riri," Pak Karto replied. "We don't just protect the buildings and ceremonies, but the spirit behind them. Every step we take has meaning. Even when we sweep the palace courtyard, we do it with a certain rhythm. It's not just about cleanliness, but about respect."
Romo looked intrigued. "Is that considered part of worship, Pak?"
Pak Karto smiled. "Yes. We don't just work, we also worship. Because our intention is not to earn money, but to serve—ngabdi. To the outside world, it may look simple, but to us, it is an honor. Not everyone can become abdi dalem. It requires a spiritual process, not just administrative."
Marlon, who had been silent until then, finally asked, "Pak... I'm curious. Outside, the world has changed so much. Digital economy, technology, everything is fast and efficient. Why does Jogja still hold on to values like these? Doesn't it feel irrelevant?"
Pak Karto chuckled softly—not sarcastically, but warmly. "I hear that question a lot from young people like you. The world may change, but the roots don't need to shift. When everything becomes fast, people lose their center. Here, we learn to stay slow so we don't lose our direction."
He looked at Marlon and continued, "Indeed, being abdi dalem doesn't make us rich materially. But we feel rich because we have a place to stand, values to hold on to. If everyone only runs after efficiency and money, who will protect the soul of this nation?"
Riri looked thoughtful. "So, abdi dalem isn't just a profession, but a calling of the soul, right, Pak?"
"That's right, Miss. We're not paid a salary; we are given forgiveness—pengapura, meaning a form of grace and meaning. Every uniform we wear, every step to the palace, is part of a prayer."
Romo smiled gently, then said, "Maybe in a world that's becoming more mechanistic… people need a place like this to become fully human again."
Pak Karto nodded. "That's why Jogja doesn't rush to change too quickly. Because not all change is progress. Sometimes, those who endure… are actually the bravest."
The three of them fell silent. The night in Jogja felt deeper, but their hearts felt lighter.
The night grew late. The sound of crickets gradually replaced the conversation that had echoed since the afternoon in Pak Karto's front room. The wedang uwuh tea was cold in the cup, but the warmth from Pak Karto's story still lingered in their hearts.
A gentle breeze blew through the open wooden window. The oil lamp in the corner flickered softly, as if listening to the meaningful conversation about culture, politics, religion, economy, and even the unseen world.
Marlon glanced at his watch, then looked at Riri and Romo briefly. He took a deep breath and smiled at Pak Karto.
Marlon: "Pak Karto, thank you so much for your time today. Our talk was really impressive… it felt like a life lesson not found in campus lectures."
Pak Karto smiled, his eyes calm as usual.
Pak Karto: "Ah, I'm just telling stories, son. You're the ones who brought this conversation to life. It's rare I get to talk like this with young people."
Riri: "We've learned a lot too, Pak. About Jogja, about values, about how people live alongside things unseen but felt."
Romo: "And about how harmony can be built… not just through power, but through intention, calmness, and feeling."
Marlon: "We'll take our leave now, Pak. We're heading back to the hotel. Tomorrow morning we continue our journey to Bali. We want to see another side of life there too."
Pak Karto nodded slowly and stood up, straightening his sarong.
Pak Karto: "Alright, son. May your journey be smooth. Bali is different, but has the same spirit. Both are rich in meaning if you're willing to listen."
Riri: "If we come back to Jogja, can we visit here again?"
Pak Karto: "Of course. This house is open. And hopefully, not just for visits, but for sharing stories as well."
Pak Karto walked them to the front porch. The night air felt soft, like a gentle blanket wrapping their farewell.
Romo (bowing respectfully): "Thank you, Pak Karto."
Pak Karto: "You're welcome, Romo. Take care on the road. Don't forget, on the journey, listen also to what people don't say. Sometimes, wisdom is found there."
The three of them walked slowly away from Pak Karto's house, down the small street behind the palace. The dim streetlights lit their steps. Each of them carried home more than just memories—they carried a piece of wisdom.