Nestled at the western edge of Petarangan Village in
Temanggung Regency, Central Java, lies a hill shrouded in mystery and history.
Known as Botorono, this hill is cloaked in bamboo trees and agricultural plots,
and its summit is now accessible via a paved road. Once a viral tourist
destination, Botorono’s allure has faded, yet its historical significance
continues to captivate scholars and adventurers alike.
Below Botorono flows the Ngasinan River, where, fifty years
ago, two farmers stumbled upon a pair of copper plates etched with Old Javanese
script. Known as the Rukam Inscription, these ancient artifacts date back to
907 AD, during the reign of Rakai Watukara Dyah Balitung. They narrate a tale
of Rukam, a region granted tax-free status (sima) in exchange for
maintaining a sacred structure in Limwung.
The inscription provides a vivid glimpse into the rituals,
cuisine, and administration of the era. It mentions representatives from six wanua
(village-level regions) and two patapan (hermitages), painting a picture
of a bustling agrarian society intertwined with religious and cultural
practices. Scholars like Niken Wirasanti highlight the interconnectedness of
these settlements with the agricultural lands surrounding ancient temples.
Despite its detailed historical account, the exact location
of Rukam remains elusive. The inscription alludes to a catastrophic volcanic
eruption—describing a wanua “lost to the mountain’s thunder.” This
reference has sparked debates among archaeologists. Could Rukam have been
buried beneath the volcanic debris of Mount Sindoro?
Excavations at the Liyangan Site, located on Mount Sindoro’s
northeastern slopes, suggest so. This ancient settlement, buried under layers
of volcanic material, offers a wealth of artifacts and insights into disaster
preparedness in 10th-century Java. Remarkably, no human remains have been
found, suggesting the inhabitants successfully evacuated—a testament to their
advanced understanding of natural disasters.
The inscription’s mention of Limwung, the sacred area linked
to Rukam, has led researchers to speculate its modern equivalent. Archaeologist
Sugeng Riyanto proposes that Limwung may be Klimbungan, a hamlet in
Karanggedong Village. The phonetic resemblance and the presence of ancient
stones in Wali Limbung Mosque bolster this theory, blending history with local
legend.
Tales surrounding Klimbungan include variations of a saint
named Limhong or a royal concubine who wandered to the area, symbolizing the
rich oral traditions passed down through generations. These stories, though
unverified, deepen the cultural tapestry surrounding Rukam’s legacy.
Nearby hamlets like Tegalrukem, or “Nggorukem” in local
dialect, bear names reminiscent of Rukam. While no concrete link has been
established, these linguistic echoes hint at a broader network of settlements
tied to the ancient wanua. Along the routes leading north,
archaeologists have uncovered remnants of temples, statues, and even ancient
water systems, shedding light on the region’s intricate infrastructure.
Excavations at Liyangan continue to reveal the magnitude of
the volcanic eruption that buried this once-thriving settlement. Geologist M.
Fadhlan confirms that layers of volcanic debris originate from Mount Sindoro’s
explosive activity, offering tangible proof of the calamity described in the
Rukam Inscription.
Today, Botorono Hill and its surroundings serve as a bridge
between the past and present. The discoveries at Liyangan and the Rukam
Inscription remind us of Java’s rich history and the resilience of its people.
While much of Rukam remains a mystery, ongoing research and exploration promise
to piece together the puzzle of this ancient civilization.
As visitors tread the slopes of Botorono or wander the
hamlets of Tegalrukem and Klimbungan, they step into a living museum of Java’s
history—a testament to the enduring spirit of its ancestors and their stories
carved in stone and legend.
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