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Scales of Time

Yuni Utami Asih has loved poetry, short stories, and novels since elementary school. She stepped into the world of translation after hosting the launch of Footprints/Tapak Tilas (Dalang Publishing, 2023), a bilingual short story compilation in celebration of Dalang’s tenth anniversary. The first novel she translated was Pasola (Dalang Publishing 2024), by Maria Matildis Banda. Her most recent work was translating the 2025 series of six short stories to be published in installments on Dalang’s website.

Apart from teaching at the English Language Education Study Program, Faculty of Teacher Training and Education, Mulawaran University, Asih is involved in educational workshops for teachers in Samarinda, East Kalimantan, Indonesia, and surrounding areas.

Yuni Utami Asih: yuniutamiasih@fkip.unmul.ac.id. 

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Scales of Time

After flying in from Java, where she worked, Gia waited on the sidewalk at a taxi stand. Her father wasn’t feeling well, and her brother was busy at work, so neither of them could pick her up. Gia would have to use public transportation for the five-hour trip from the Syamsudin Noor airport, near Banjarmasin, South Kalimantan, Indonesia, to Tanjung, where she was born and raised.

Tanjung Tabalong was the subdistrict of the Tabalong regency. Like in other South Kalimantan regencies, people spoke mostly Banjar and Indonesian.

Gia was homesick for her quiet town, where customs, culture, and local wisdom were still widely applied in community life. She longed for the town’s cool air, special food, her mother’s cooking, and her old friends.

During the five-hour taxi ride, Gia happily watched the passing scenery of Tanjung Tabalong through the car window. Several changes decorating the district center caught her eye. A magnificent gate now led to the new road built for the development and expansion of the city. The new shophouses on the once-empty land near the gas station appeared ready for occupancy. The road itself felt smoother than it had a year ago, when she last went home to attend her brother’s wedding.

The taxi passed the famous Torch Monument traffic light. The flaming artwork, encircled by colorful lights, looked brighter at night, as fire flared from state-owned gas pipes.
Gia was lulled into a reverie.

The cab turned into the Tanjung Bersinar residential area. Gia’s house was near the entrance of the neighborhood. She took out her phone and messaged her mother that she would be home in five minutes.

“Please stop at the grey house with the black fence,” Gia told the driver. She had not taken her eyes off her home since she had spied it from a distance. The cabbie stopped and Gia saw her parents and Al hurrying toward the open gate.

The driver opened the trunk to unload Gia’s suitcase and several bags of souvenirs. Gia opened her door, grabbed her backpack, and ran to her parents. “Mama! Abah.” Grinning, she clutched her mother’s outstretched hand, kissed it and her father’s hand, then hugged them both. She turned and kissed her brother’s hand. Al was now a father.

“Are you healthy?” Lovingly, Mama put her arm around Gia’s shoulder. “How was the trip?”

“Alhamdulillah, thank God, I’m well, Mom. The trip went smoothly.” Gia hugged her mother again then turned to her father. “Abah, is your leg still swollen from your fall last week?”

“I’m healthy, dear,” her father assured her. “The pain has lessened, alhamdulillah.”

Gia didn’t see her sister-in-law and turned to her brother. “Where’s kakak Laila?” she asked, using the respectful term for her sister-in-law.

“She’s in the bedroom, feeding the baby. I’ll let her know you’re here in a minute.” Al hurried to pay the driver, then gathered Gia’s luggage. The family walked into the house.

Gia and Abah took a seat on the living room sofa. “I’ll make some tea for you and coffee for Abah,” Mama said, walking to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Mom.” Gia placed her backpack on a chair next to the sofa. “Please, don’t make the tea too sweet!”

Al set his sister’s luggage next to the couch, then went to his bedroom. A few moments later, he returned with Laila who held their baby in her arms.

Gia rose and kissed her sister-in-law’s hand, then turned her attention to the baby girl. “Oh, my niece is so cute! She looks just like Abang,” she said, using the respectful term for her brother. “Aunt Gia is so excited to see you!” Gia played with the baby’s soft little fingers.

Gia really wanted to hold her niece but pulled back her outstretched arms when she remembered she had not cleaned up from her long trip. Al and Laila smiled appreciatively.

“I brought Abang’s favorite snack from Bogor.” Gia reached for the bag of souvenirs next to the couch. “This taro layer cake is especially for Abang.”

Smiling, Al accepted his sister’s present. They joined Abah on the couch and shared other snacks that Gia had brought, including sweet banana chips and bika Bogor, a taro sweet-potato cake.

“How’s your job in Bogor?” Al asked as they enjoyed the snacks. “Don’t you want to try looking for work here?”

“No plans yet, Bang. I want to get some experience first.” Gia reached for the banana chips.

Mama entered the living room with a pot of tea and a cup of hot coffee. Soon, everyone was lost in casual family chatter laced with laughter. Even Laila, despite holding a baby in her arms, joined in.

Al worked at a mining company in Tanjung Tabalong City. He and Laila lived in a rented house near Gia’s parents, but after Laila had the baby, Mama asked them to stay temporarily with her and Abah until tasmiyah, the ceremonial naming day.

“Gia, do you want to eat now or take a shower first?” Mama asked.

“Please, let’s eat first, Mom.” Gia chuckled as her stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry!”

In the dining room, Mama placed a large bowl of patin on the table. Aromas from the catfish and shrimp, stewed in turmeric-spiced coconut milk, filled the room.

Abah and Al liked the catfish the most. Gia and Laila preferred the shrimp. Everyone ate heartily and left clean plates. Mama was happy to see her food being devoured.

After dinner, Gia showered and performed the Isha prayer, the last prayer before dawn, in her room. Finally, the exhausting day was over.

***

As soon as she woke up the next morning, Gia went straight to the dining room for breakfast. The wall clock showed it was almost nine.

“Oh, my, Mama’s little girl has finally woken up,” Mama called from the kitchen, shaking her head when she saw her still-sleepy daughter standing by the empty dining room table.

“I was awake at Subuh, Ma,” Gia said, pulling out a chair, “but I went back to sleep after saying the sunrise prayer.”

Mama finished washing the breakfast plates and glasses. “Here’s some yellow rice, dear. Boil water if you want tea. Al left tea in the teapot, but it is already cold. You’re the only one who hasn’t had breakfast.” Mama stroked Gia’s hair. “Tell Abang to take the lodeh to Grandma’s place.” She pointed to a clear, lidded container on the dining table. “I’ve already prepared and packed the spiced coconut-milk vegetable soup. We’ll leave for Grandma’s house tonight at eight o’clock.”

“Yes, Mom. Where’s Dad?”

“I think he’s on the terrace. He usually reads news on his phone in the morning.” Mama returned to the kitchen.

Gia finished the yellow rice and got up from her chair. Al walked in and she relayed Mama’s instructions.

“Ok, Boss,” Al joked.

Gia helped her mother clean the house, then spent the rest of the day with her niece.

That evening, Al drove the family to Grandma’s house, about fifteen minutes away. When they arrived, Grandma’s front door was open.

“Assalamualaikum!” Abah’s deep voice called out the Muslim greeting.

“Waalaikumussalam!” Amang Dani answered. Abah’s brother-in-law rose from his seat and walked to him. Grandma and Acil Aluh — Dani’s wife — also rose and welcomed Gia and her family.

Grandma pulled Gia close and kissed her forehead and cheek repeatedly. “Oh, my God, Gia!” Grandma exclaimed. “You haven’t been home for so long!”

“Nini! How are you?”

Grandma smiled. “I’m getting old. I can no longer stand for a long time, but overall, thank God, I’m fine.”

“Nini, I brought you a scarf, and a bika cake.” Gia handed her grandmother the souvenirs she brought. Grandma happily accepted the sweet, honeycomb cake and scarf, then invited her family to have dinner.

Grandma lived in a simple wooden house without a dining room or dining table. Dinner was served in the living room, and everyone sat on the floor to eat. Dinner that night was iwak babanam, Banjar-style grilled fish basted with heavily spiced sweet soy-sauce. A container on the stove kept the soto Banjar warm. The delicious chicken glass noodle soup was flavored with herbs and spices authentic to Banjar. For dessert was a banana bingka cake. Grandma served the typical Banjar mud cake with a glass of iced red syrup.

“Would you like soto Banjar, Nini?” Gia offered to serve Grandma. “Let me pour the broth for you.”

“Yes, please, and give me a little chili sauce also, Gia.”

Gia went to the kitchen to prepare her grandmother’s dinner. “Here’s the soto,” she said, handing Grandma a bowl of steaming soto Banjar. “It’s hot, Ni. I’ll get you some water.” Gia then filled her own plate with rice and the iwak babanam and joined the others in enjoying Grandma’s food.

After dinner, Gia helped Acil Aluh carry the plates to the kitchen. While listening to the animated conversation in the living room, they washed the dishes.

Afterwards, they rejoined the family circle and Gia sat cross-legged next to Laila, while Acil Aluh sat next to Mama. The chit-chat became more fun when everyone asked Gia about her life in Bogor, a university city in West Java.

“Alhamdulillah, everyone can be here today,” Grandma said happily. “I’m so excited, especially since Gia just came home. It’s been such a long time since we were all together. In addition, Al and Laila just had a beautiful baby girl. When will you hold the tasmiyah?” Grandma turned to Abah to hear details about the naming ceremony.

“Insya Allah, God willing, within two weeks, Ma,” Abah replied.

“Oh, that’s nice! Because Al’s baby was born in the Safar month, I want to hold a Batimbang Safar so we can pray for my great-granddaughter to be protected from bad fortune.”

The room suddenly went quiet with shock. What was Grandma thinking?

There are many Banjar rituals to seek blessings ⸺ cultural events filled with prayer. Batimbang Safar is one of them. Batimbang, in the Banjar language, means “to weigh,” while Safar is the name of the second month of the Islamic calendar. Some Banjarese who live in South Kalimantan believe that Safar is a bad month, full of misfortune and disasters. At a Batimbang Safar ceremony, babies born in the Safar month are weighed on a balance scale, shaped like the Scales of Justice, with opposite seats made of sarongs. Wood from the bangkal tree is used for the balancing beam, and the scale is set up in the living room. The baby is placed in one sarong, while the other side’s sarong is filled with various items, according to tradition, until both sides are in balance.

The weighing is done three times. The first time, the baby is balanced with the Quran on the counter scale. The second time, sticky rice is placed on the opposite scale. For the final weighing, young coconut and red sugar cane are used as counterweights. Each time, the baby is removed from the sarong only after the scale is in balance.

The ceremony is accompanied by the recitation of verses from the holy Quran and can be carried out at the same time as the tasmiyah ceremony.

Neither Gia nor Al was born in the month of Safar, so the subject of holding a Batimbang Safar never came up. But even if Gia and Al had been Safar babies, Mama and Abah would have most likely refused to hold a Batimbang Safar. Abah did not believe in this custom like Grandma did. He and Mama believed that a child’s birth, regardless of the month, was always good.

“Ma,” Abah said, “nowadays it is very rare to hold a Batimbang Safar. All months are equally good for a birth. It is enough to be grateful. God has already arranged our fortune and death.”

Abah’s words seemed to annoy Grandma. Sighing, she said, “I just want the best for Al’s baby, my great-granddaughter. This is our tradition.” Grandma then went on to express her concern that the Batimbang Safar tradition would disappear if the Banjar people stopped observing it.

Mama spoke up. “Mother, I deeply apologize. Your intention is good, but we don’t need to hold a Batimbang Safar. Just like you, we all want the best for your great-grandchild. We think a tasmiyah is enough.”

Beyond everyone’s expectations, Grandma looked offended. “I don’t care!” she said loudly. “Unless you want disaster to strike Al’s baby, a Batimbang Safar must be held!”

“Astaghfirullahaladzim, I ask forgiveness from God Almighty,” said everyone in the room, almost in unison. When Grandma was angry, no one wanted to argue with her.

“That’s not it, Ma,” Abah pressed again. “There are many people who were born in the Safar month, but they didn’t do Batimbang Safar. As far as I know, there have been no problems. I believe that a child’s good or bad luck does not depend on the birth month.”

Grandma now exploded. “You are all wrong! My intentions are to do what’s best for our family.” She stared straight ahead.

Amang Dani and Acil Aluh did not dare speak. Al, Laila, and Gia could only listen to the heated argument. Afraid of making things worse, no one expressed any more opinions. Mama looked shocked at Grandma’s anger. Abah, who knew Grandma’s nature very well, chose to discontinue the discussion for now.

It was almost ten o’clock, and the night had turned quiet. Suddenly, Abah’s deep voice broke the silence. “We have to leave now, Mother. Let me think about it.” He rose, kissed Grandma’s hand, and said goodbye. The rest of the family kissed Grandma’s hand as they left. Amang Dani and Acil Aluh walked their guests to the sidewalk.

***

A week after the unpleasant evening at Grandma’s house, Abah and the family gathered in the living room to watch television and enjoy fried breadfruit. Abah had called Amang Dani to talk to Grandma, but Grandma refused to take the call. Now, watching the TV program, Mama asked, “Bah, what will we do? Are we going to hold a Batimbang Safar?”

“I’ll go to Grandma’s house and try to talk with her again,” Abah replied. “Hopefully, she will soften.”

Gia nodded. “Yes, Bah, hopefully Grandma will not be angry anymore.”

“I’ll leave it to you, Abah,” Al said. “I’ll just follow along.”

Two days later, Abah told the family that he had visited Grandma and had tried to persuade her not to hold a Batimbang Safar. Abah also told the family about Grandma’s concerns. In the end, in order to respect Grandma’s feelings, Abah had agreed to hold the Batimbang Safar ceremony, together with the naming celebration.

Finally, they came to the morning of the tasmiyah and Batimbang Safar ceremonies for Al and Laila’s baby.

Half an hour before the event, Grandma arrived at Abah and Mama’s house with Amang Dani and his family. Abah welcomed Grandma and led her to the living room. None of the guests had shown up yet, and Grandma gestured for Abah to sit beside her. “Son,” she said quietly, “there’s no need to hold a Batimbang Safar.”

Abah looked at her, shocked. “No need?” he repeated.

Grandma smiled and nodded. “After I thought about it some more, I realized you were right. All months are equally good for babies to be born.” Grandma told Abah that she had heard an ustadz speak those very same words. She had so much respect for this Islamic priest that when she heard that his opinion about Batimbang Safar was the same as Abah’s, she had changed her mind.

Abah immediately called Amang Dani to help him move the scale and its accoutrements from the living room to the back of the house.

Meanwhile, the guests, including the ustadz who would lead the tasmiyah ceremony, started arriving. Before beginning the celebration, Abah, slightly nervous and tense, spoke into the microphone. “Assalamualaikum, ladies and gentlemen! I would like to thank you for attending our granddaughter’s tasmiyah and Batimbang Safar celebrations. However, by agreement of the family, we will hold only the tasmiyah. I now turn over the entire celebration to the ustadz.”

The guests murmured among themselves before quieting again.

Gia was grateful that Grandma had not forced her will on the family. Gia, too, believed that a person’s good luck and bad luck did not depend on their birth month. But she could not forget Grandma’s words about the extinction of the Batimbang Safar ceremony, a part of the cultural heritage of the Banjar people. Gia decided that when she married and was blessed with children, her family would continue to observe the traditional ceremonies. The sole intention would be to show gratitude for God’s gift in the form of her child — regardless of the birth month.

 

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