Figure 1. A 54 from the collection of the National Library of Indonesia, fol. 1v. An earlier common translation of al-Raḥmān and al-Raḥīm into Javanese.

I was familiar with the translation of raḥīm as asih and the interpretive additions of “ing dunyā” (in this world) and “ing akherat” (in the hereafter), which I had learned over years of studying in traditional pesantren. There, we read Arabic textbooks using a traditional interlinear translation method. Every time we began a new book, we encountered the formula bismillāh al-Raḥmān al-Raḥīm at the very beginning, and we consistently translated it using this traditional method. Over time, the translation became so familiar that we memorized it by heart: “kelawan nyebut asmane Allāh Kang Maha Welas ing dunyā, Kang Maha Asih ing akhirat” (“by invoking Allah’s name, Who is Most welas [Compassionate] in this world, and Most asih [Loving] in the hereafter”). Yes, we, students of the late 20^th and early 21^st centuries, used welas—not murah!

Figure 2. Misbah Mustafa, al-Iklīl fī Maʿānī l-Tanzīl. A common modern (late 20^th and early 21^st century) translation of basmala.

I was even more surprised when, a few years later, I discovered that murah was also used to translate raḥmān in old manuscripts preserved at my own pesantren, Pondok Pesantren Qomaruddin in Gresik, East Java! These manuscripts show that this usage continued well into the 19^th century—and possibly even into the early 20^th.

Figure 3. DS 0097 00053, a copy and translation of Safīnat al-Ṣalā by Isḥāq b. Muḥammad Rāwī in 1318/1900-1, fol. 1v. The use of murah for raḥmān in the early 20^th century.

In that moment of surprise, I realized something: the seemingly “formulaic” translation—since several alternative translations are also used in pesantren—of this recurring formula was something I had always taken for granted. I began looking into Modern Javanese dictionaries and came across explanations by Johann Gericke and Taco Roorda. In their dictionary, murah is defined as “overvloedig; veel en gemakkelijk te bekomen; goedkoop; laag van prijs; een lage prijs bieden; ook mild, milddadig, goedertieren (vrg. loma)” (“abundant; in abundance and easy to obtain; cheap; low in price; to offer a low price; also gentle, benevolent, kind (cf. loma)”) (Gericke and Roorda 1901, 2:480). Stuart O. Robson’s Javanese-English Dictionary goes further, noting that the sense of murah as generous, gracious, or merciful is specifically used for God (Robson and Wibisono 2002, 501).

However, when I cross-checked with Old Javanese literature and dictionaries collected on the website www.sealang.net, “generous,” “gracious,” and “merciful” are not listed as meanings of murah; murah only means “cheap” and “copious.” The website’s reverse search feature also allows for the search of Old Javanese words meaning “generous,” “gracious,” and “merciful,” but murah never appears in the results. These all made the case more interesting to me and prompted me to undertake further investigation. In the two sections of this blog post, I will outline what I have uncovered so far. In Part I, I will explore the historical use of murah in Islamic literature, while in Part II, I will present the findings of my preliminary inquiry into the potential origins of this usage.

Murah-asih has been there since the 16^th century!

My search began with three manuscripts that, to this day, are the oldest known Arabic-Javanese interlinear texts: I F 31 and I H 1 in the University of Amsterdam’s collection, and Sloane 2645 in the British Museum’s collection. I consider these three manuscripts to represent the 16th-century interlinear translation practices, as the first two were purchased by a Dutch collector around 1610, and the third manuscript dates its creation to 1545 in the Javanese calendar (1623-24 AD) in its colophon. All three manuscripts are copies and translations of legal texts, and none of them translate the basmala or include al-raḥmān and al-raḥīm within the body of the text.

In other 17th-century manuscripts written in the following decades, I have not found murah used for raḥmān. One reason for this is that the basmala was once again not translated, and raḥmān was never included in the body of the text. On the other hand, raḥīm appears more frequently in these manuscripts and is consistently translated as asih or kasih (which are possibly variants of the pronunciation of asih or its derivation, both meaning “loving”). However, in these manuscripts, I found the word murah—in the form of kamurahan/kemurahan with the prefix ke-/ka- and the suffix -an to turn the adjective murah into a noun) used to translate jūd and karam (both meaning generosity) (for example, in manuscript A 97 from the National Library of Indonesia, written after 1100/1688, fol. 5 for jūd and fol. 17 for karam). The context for these two words is actually similar to the meaning of raḥmān as “generous”.

The earliest Javanese Islamic literature in which murah is used for raḥmān is manuscript Or. 2016 from the Leiden University Library collection, dated 1116/1705. This manuscript includes a page with Allah’s asmāʾ al-ḥusnā, the “beautiful names,” all of which are provided with interlinear translations. Raḥmān and raḥīm, as part of the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā, are translated as “kang murah ing dunya, kang asih ing akhirat.” Since it was written five years after the turn of the century, I assume that it somewhat reflects the translation norms of the 17^th century.

Figure 4. Leiden University Library, Or. 2016, a compendium written in 1116/1705, fol. 1v. The use of murah for God’s attribute raḥmān.

Assuming www.sealang.net is accurate in noting the absence of the meanings “generous,” “gracious,” and “merciful” for murah in Old Javanese, then the 17th-century usa of murah in this sense prompts the question of whether this semantic expansion arose within Modern Javanese more generally, or was shaped by the particular influence of the Javanese Islamic literary tradition. I will explore this further in Part II. Stay tuned!

 

References

Manuscript

Leiden University Library, Or. 2016

The National Library of the Republic of Indonesia, A 54

Dreamsea collection, DS 0097 00053, Safīnat al-Ṣalā, https://www.hmmlcloud.org/dreamsea/detail.php?msid=4495

Website

www.sealang.net

Literature

Gericke, Johann F.C., and Taco Roorda. 1901. Javaansch-Nederlandsch Handwoordenboek. Vol. 2. Leiden: Brill.

Mustafa, Misbah. n.d. Al-Iklīl Fī Ma‘ānī al-Tanzīl. Surabaya: al-Ihsan.

Robson, Stuart O., and Singgih Wibisono. 2002. Javanese-English Dictionary. Singapore: Periplus.

 

 

 

 

 

This hadith collection is unique because it has a Maranao interlinear translation, albeit partial, in addition to a Malay interlinear translation (see Figures 1 and 2). 

Figure 1: Kitāb al-ḥādīth. B7-Ms8, Collection of Sheik Muhammad Said bin Imam sa Bayang, Marawi City. ff. 23v-24r.

2a. f.23r.

2b. f.23v.

Figure 2: Kitāb al-ḥādīth. B7-Ms8, Collection of Sheik Muhammad Said bin Imam sa Bayang, Marawi City.

The Malay interlinear translation is provided throughout the work, whereas the Maranao interlinear translation is only provided for one hadith and is written in different handwriting and ink. The unique handwriting suggests that this Maranao text was written by Sheik Muhammad Said bin Imam sa Bayang (c. 1902–1974), for whom the collection is named, between 1930 and 1974.

The Arabic text and its English translation are as follows:

من تكلم بكلام الدنيا في خمسة مكان بعث الله تعالى يوم القيامة كصورة الخنزير

Whoever speaks worldly words in five places, Allah the Exalted, will raise him on the Day of Resurrection in the form of a pig.

The texts in the three languages and the English translation of the Arabic text are as follows.

 

The Arabic text has been translated word for word into Malay and Maranao, maintaining the original word order. The Malay words are written diagonally from top right to bottom left below the corresponding Arabic words and divided according to the Arabic spacing. The Maranao text is written below the Malay text, also diagonally from top right to bottom left. However, unlike the Malay text, the spacing is not always clear. Instead of clearly separating each word and placing it directly below the corresponding word, the Maranao text tends to be written continuously without spaces, as in the first line of this hadith. Consequently, the word dalem (in) is not written below the corresponding Arabic and Malay words fī and pada, but in the next line. The characters in the Malay text are much smaller than those in the Arabic text; however, the Maranao text is written in larger characters than the Malay text.

In the Malay and Maranao translations, words that frequently occur in the Arabic text are consistently rendered with specific words. For example, the Arabic prepositions bi and fī are often rendered with the Malay words dengan and pada, and the Maranao words sa and dalem, respectively, as seen in this hadith. The Arabic expression “man + verb” meaning “whoever does this and that” is consistently replaced by the Malay and Maranao expressions “barangsiapa (whoever) + verb” and “si/so taw (the person) a + verb,” respectively.

Maranao language has a unique feature not found in Arabic or Malay: it has many particles such as ligatures that link words (e.g., a, na) and determiners that mark the relationship between words (e.g., so, si, o, ko, sa). Therefore, if Arabic or Malay words were translated strictly word for word into Maranao without these particles, the relationships between words would not be indicated, resulting in disjointed sentences that are difficult to understand. The Maranao translator included these particles in the interlinear translation at the expense of not strictly following the Malay interlinear translation convention of writing the translation directly under the corresponding word. Thus, he was able to form coherent sentences within the limited space between the lines.

Was the Maranao text translated from the original Arabic text or the Malay translation? Since the contents of the Arabic and Malay texts are essentially the same, answering this question by comparing them is difficult. In the Lanao region in the mid-20th century, reformist Islamic scholars were increasingly interested in prioritizing the original Arabic text in Islamic learning. Given this contemporary social context, the translator probably based the Maranao translation primarily on the Arabic text to ensure that its meaning was accurately conveyed, while also referring to the Malay translation to verify the meaning.

This argument is supported by the text of another hadith in the same manuscript, which reads: Man fasada qalbahu gharaqa fī āfāti al-dunyā (Whoever has a corrupt heart will drown in the troubles of this world) (Figure 3).

Figure 3: Kitāb al-ḥādīth. B7-Ms8, Collection of Sheik Muhammad Said bin Imam sa Bayang, Marawi City. f. 24r.

The Arabic word āfāt is a plural form of afah (harm, damage, ruin), which is translated into Malay as pekerjaan (work, job). The Maranao translator was not satisfied with this translation and wrote down the Maranao word pakabinasa (it can bring destruction) as the meaning of āfāt. This single word, which could easily be overlooked as a meaningless scribble, proves that the translator did not simply accept the Malay interlinear translation, but critically examined and corrected it based on the Arabic language. Thus, by carefully reading between the lines, we can explore a realm that we would not have found from the main text alone.

 

References:

Fathurahman, Oman, Kawashima Midori, and Labi Sarip Riwarung (eds.). 2019. The Library of an Islamic Scholar of Mindanao: The Collection of Sheik Muhammad Said bin Imam sa Bayang at the Al-Imam As-Sadiq (A.S.) Library, Marawi City, Philippines: An Annotated Catalogue with Essays. (Occasional Papers No.27). Tokyo: Institute of Asian, African, and Middle Eastern Studies, Sophia University.

Ricci, Ronit. 2016. Reading between the Lines: A World of Interlinear Translation. Journal of World Literature, 1: 68-80.

Photographs: Kawashima Midori et al., February 27, 2012.

I would like to thank Dr. Moctar Matuan for his advice on the Maranao language, although I take full responsibility for any errors.

 

The Kitāb contains many small texts with interlinear translations into Malay in the categories of doa (prayer, supplication), dhikir (remembrance of God), talqīn (exhortation to the dead), wirid (a recitation of supplications or Qur’anic verses),  and ṣalawāt (invocations of God’s blessings) to be recited on specific occasions. There are, for example, doa to be recited upon waking from sleep, when washing the left and right feet, on a person’s sickbed, when a very strong wind blows, or when one hears a dog bark. Some are to be recited daily or nightly while others are meant to be recited annually, for example a doa for the last day of the year or for Idul Fitri. Sections in Malay that offer explanation and guidance appear among the Arabic texts. Several prior sources are mentioned including the 17^th century Hadrami scholar ‘Abdallah ibn ‘Alawī al-Ḥaddād’s rātib and wirid.

The issue of gender caught my attention while reading the Kitāb. Generally, in translating Arabic between the lines translators had to almost constantly acknowledge the basic structural differences between Arabic and Malay, with one among them the role of gender in the construction of words and sentences. In Arabic inflected verbs, nouns, adjectives and most pronouns are gendered, but they are not so in Malay. One implication, for example, is that in an Arabic sentence it is clear if a figure being depicted is male or female whereas the Malay translator would often need to clarify this point with additional words, e.g. the Arabic word walad (boy) and bint (girl) might both be translated into Malay as anak (child) but for clarification the translator could add laki-laki (anak laki-laki, boy) or perempuan (anak perempuan, girl). In many cases such an addition seems to have sufficed because once it was clear if the figure was male or female, a relatively simple clarification to add in Malay, adjectives, pronouns and verbs that could not be inflected for gender remained gender-neutral but the reader could surmise who they were referring to.  

A similar example to what was described above is found on page 52 of the Kitāb (see Figure 1) where the believer asks of God that the rewards of praising Him benefit several categories of the dead: Muslim men and women, almuslimīn wa almuslimāt, is translated beneath the line as sekalian Islam laki-laki perempuan (all Muslims, men [and] women/male [and] female) while male and female believers, almu’minīn wa almu’mināt, is translated as sekalian mu’min laki-laki perempuan (all believers, men [and] women/male [and] female).

Figure 1. Kitāb Maslaku al-akhyāri fī al-ad‘iyati wa al-athkār al-wāridatu ‘an al-nabī al- 

mukhtār, 52.

The Kitāb presents some alternatives to this typical model of addressing gender.

For example, on p. 21, there is a Malay note preceding a doa:

Ini doa dibaca kepada kanaq2 kecil laki2 atau perempuan (“this doa is to be recited on behalf of little boys or girls”), followed by the Arabic prayer and its translation (see Figure 2). Interestingly, the verb in the doa itself is in the masculine: u‘īdhuka, I protect you/seek refuge for you, with the suffix ka indicating the masculine, translated as aku lindungkan engkau (engkau being a gender-neutral form of “you” in Malay). We find here a variation: rather than a clarification appearing between the lines a Malay paratext frames the Arabic doa, explaining that it is valid for both boys and girls.

Figure 2. Kitāb Maslaku al-akhyāri fī al-ad‘iyati wa al-athkār al-wāridatu ‘an al-nabī al- 

mukhtār, 21.

In several instances in the Kitāb we find Arabic rather than Malay additions that are gender-related, on which the translator remained silent. In a translation of al-Ḥaddād’s wirid  there is a section asking for the goodness of this day (khayr hadhā al-yawm: yawm, day, is masculine and therefore the demonstrative pronoun hathā is also in the masculine, and translated into a gender-neutral Malay kebajikan ini hari) and protection from the evil of this day and all evil that is in it (sharri hadhā al-yawm). Twice on the margins is added hadhihi al-laylati, that is the plea for wellbeing and protection from evil is extended through this small addition also to nighttime (layla) which is feminine in Arabic and requires the demonstrative hadhihi (see Figure 3). There is no Malay addition on the margin or between the lines that addresses this expansion of the prayer. Another example that does include a directive is found on page 30 -31 where to the masculine yā ‘abd Allāh (“O God’s slave”) is added a marginal note in Malay: jika perempuan yā amat Allāh (“if female [say]: O God’s female slave”). Despite the instruction of how to change the Arabic phrase here too the change is not reflected in the interlinear translation.

Figure 3. Kitāb Maslaku al-akhyāri fī al-ad‘iyati wa al-athkār al-wāridatu ‘an

        al-nabī al-mukhtār, 66.

Interlinear translations had different aims and functions. Several previous blogposts in this series have highlighted the relationship between interlinear translations and the study of Arabic. The little Kitāb discussed here seems less geared towards the teaching of the Arabic language and more focused on understanding the meaning of some doa and dhikir recited daily, annually or periodically. Within this general aim, the instances of noting or emphasizing gender difference and how to adjust the prayers for girls and women may point to the everyday, routine use of these prayers and to the need to recite them correctly for male and female believers in order to maximize their efficacy. It may also be that the gender-related notes hint at the particular period during which the Kitāb was published. Clearly, the translation of gender as expressed in Arabic into Malay was not monolithic and further research and comparison are needed in order to better understand and categorize its intricacies, and its potential effects on devotional practices.

 

References:

Anonymous. Kitāb maslaku al-akhyāri fī al-ad‘iyati wa al-athkār al-wāridatu ‘an al-nabī al-

mukhtār. Surabaya: Sulaymān Mar‘ī and Co., no date.

Proudfoot, Ian. Early Malay Printed Books. A provisional account of materials published in the

Singapore-Malaysia area up to 1920, noting holdings in major public collections.

Kuala Lumpur: Academy of Malay Studies and The Library, University of Malays, 1993.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The text is a translation of Hidāyat al-adhkiyā’ ilá ṭarīq al-awliyā’ (“Guidance for the clever  towards the path of saints”), a rhymed poetic treatise by an Indian great poet and Sufi, Zayn al-Dīn al-Malībārī (d. 1521 AD). Sirāj al-adhkiyā’ contains 188 verses on spiritual guidance to help one get closer to Allah, and advice to be patient, sincere, and liable to Him (Sanusi n.d.).

The author, Ahmad Sanusi (1888-1950) was one of the most prolific Sundanese Muslim authors in the early 20^th century. His works, written mostly in Arabic and Sundanese but also in Indonesian (Malay), cover various Islamic fields, including Quranic exegesis (tafsīr), ḥadīth, Islamic Jurisprudence (fiqh), theology (tawḥīd), and sufism (taṣawwuf). He actively criticized some religious practices that he regarded as “unjustified” according to Islamic teachings. Among his works are those written in Arabic with Sundanese interlinear translation (composed in  Pégon-Sunda, Sundanese written in Arabic script) including the work I am dealing with.

The Sirāj al-adhkiyā’ is found as a printed lithograph kitab which reflects the development of print culture since the late 19^th century. It is part of about 60 kitabs that belonged to Husen Hasan Basri, who collected them from his family and colleagues in Sukabumi, West Java, and then donated to me to be preserved and studied.

Figure 1. Cover of Sirāj al-adhkiyā’ fī tarjamat al-azkiyā’

The author put a brief description of this work in Sundanese, which is found on the cover (see Figure 1): “Sirāj al-adhkiyā’ fī tarjamat al-azkiyā’…damarna kabagjaan buat jalma-jalma anu caralakan dina narjamahkeun kitab Azkiyā’, dikumpulkeun disusun ku kaula anu da’if Haji Ahmad Sanusi bin Haji Abdurrahim, Gunung Puyuh pukhel weh 100, Sukabumi (“Light of happiness for those who are bright in translating the book of Azkiyā’, compiled and arranged by me, the humble Haji Ahmad Sanusi…”). An ownership note is found at the top: “Hak Husein Hasan Basri”, indicating that this copy previously belonged to him. An elaborate explanation in Pégon Sundanese is also found on the left and right margins of each page (see Figure 2).

Figure 2. Muqaddimah (Introduction) of Sirāj al-adhkiyā’ fī tarjamat al-azkiyā’

While the interlinear translation tradition is very popular in the context of the Malay-Indonesian world, particularly in Malay and Javanese texts since the 17^th century, it is not until the late 19^th century that such works could be found within the Sundanese tradition. Ahmad Sanusi is one of only a few Sundanese authors who dedicated their scholarship to writing religious works with such Sundanese Pégon interlinear translation.

The text is complete, discussing four stages of Islamic mystical doctrines, namely: sharī‘ah, ṭarīqah, ḥaqīqah, and ma‘rifah, through which the soul of the seeker in the Sufi tradition has to pass for eternal union with God (see Figure 2). These four stages are very popular in the discourse of Sufism in the Muslim world, both in Indonesia and beyond. We can find such a discussion, for instance, in the 17^th century Arabic Sufi texts by Indonesian Muslim scholars, such as Tanbīh al-Māshī by ‘Abd al-Ra’ūf al-Sinkīlī (Fathurahman 1999). The main message of such a treatise is to apply a rapprochement between the esoteric (taṣawwuf) and exoteric (sharī‘at) aspects of Islam. Ahmad Sanusi based his explanation on some great Sufi and ḥadīth treaties such as Iḥya’ ‘Ulūm al-Dīn by al-Imām al-Ghazālī (d. 1111), ‘Awārif al-Ma‘ārif by al-Suhrawardī (d. 1234), and Riyāḍ al-Ṣāliḥīn by al-Imām al-Nawāwī (d. 1277).

In this blogpost I will not elaborate on these doctrines. Rather, I would like to highlight some characteristics relating to the Pégon interlinear translation of this work instead. I am assuming that such characteristics may be found as well in other works by Ahmad Sanusi.

It seems that Ahmad Sanusi did not aspire to put only a word-for-word literary Pégon interlinear translation between the lines. Rather, he sometimes inserted also a kind of interpretation (tafsīr) for certain words. The word تهليل – “tahlīl” (p. 29) for instance, a form of dzikir, is translated as “dzikir lā ilāha illallāh” (utterance of “there is no God but Allah”), or the word فعليه – “fa ‘alayh” (p. 4) which literally means “maka wajib kepadanya” (“then it is obligatory for him”), is interpretated as “maka wajib ka anu hayang wusul ka Allah” (“then it is obligatory for those who want to  connect to Allah”) (see Figure 3).

Figure 3. Part of pages 4, 22, 29 of Sirāj al-adhkiyā’ fī tarjamat al-azkiyā’

Another characteristic is that Ahmad Sanusi consistently applied the traditional model of translation practiced in pesantren (traditional Islamic education institution) called ngalogat (Sundanese) or ngapsahi (Javanese), in which he translated an Arabic word into Pégon-Sundanese and added certain words that represent Arabic grammatical markers.

He, for instance, always put the word ari before a Sundanese word representing the subject of a sentence in Arabic (mubtada’), and éta before a word representing the predicate of a sentence in Arabic (khabar mubtada’). Both ari and éta are just markers in terms of Arabic grammar, and not separately and semantically translated. The interlinear translation for the word فشريعة – fa sharī‘ah, for instance, is ari syari’at (“sharī‘ah is”), and the word كسفينة – ka safīnah is éta saperti parahu (“like a ship”) (Figure 2: p. 2, line 3). Such a translation strategy may relate to the fact that K.H. Ahmad Sanusi was a leader of Pesantren Cantayan, Sukabumi, where he addressed such works especially to his own audience.

It is interesting to find a rather “modern” Pégon interlinear translation word taken from Malay when Ahmad Sanusi translated واجهد لتحضر في صلاتك قلبك – wa ijhad li tahḍura fī ṣalātika qalbaka - as: kudu enya-enyaan manéh buat ngahadirkeun dina salat manéh kana haté manéh…(“please be serious in order to be present in your heart during your prayer”) (Figure 3). He chose the Malay word buat (“in order to”) to translate the Arabic “lam” (لام للتعليل) rather than choose a Sundanese word of translation. The use of this word may indicate the influence of Malay on Ahmad Sanusi’s Sundanese translation.

This blogpost represents a first step in understanding Ahmad Sanusi’s translation strategies. Further research is needed to elaborate on the characteristics of Sundanese Pégon interlinear translation and its significance in terms of the Indonesian Islamic intellectual tradition, particularly in the early 20^th century.

 

References:

Fathurahman, Oman. 1999. Menyoal Wahdatul Wujud: Kasus Abdurrauf Singkel Di Aceh Abad Ke-17. Bandung-Jakarta: Mizan-EFEO.

Sanusi, Ahmad. Sirāj Al-Adhkiyā’ Fī Tarjamat al-Azkiyā’. Sukabumi, West Java.

 

 

 

 

Readers of modern Indonesian Qur’an translations will encounter the basmala formula rendered as “Dengan nama Allah Yang Maha Pengasih lagi Maha Penyayang” (lit. “With the name of Allah, the Most Loving, the Most Caring”). This translation has become so widely accepted that most Indonesian readers likely take it for granted.

However, more meticulous and curious readers might wonder: the words raḥmān and raḥīm look similar, so why are they translated into two distinct terms in Indonesian?

This is a perfectly valid question, as both words stem from the same root, r-ḥ-m, which signifies “tenderness of heart.” How are these two words different, and do pengasih and penyayang truly capture the essence of raḥmān and raḥīm?

Turning to history might shed some light on this question. In the 16^th century Malay interlinear translation of ʿAqāʾid al-Nasafī, raḥmān is translated as “yang maha murah” (“the most generous”) and raḥīm as “yang mengasihani hamba-Nya dalam akhirat” (“who cares for His servants in the hereafter”). A similar translation appears in Tarjuman al-mustafīd, written by ʿAbd al-Raʾūf al-Sinkīlī in the 17th century. With these two examples, it’s reasonable to assume that this translation was quite common during that period.

Figure 1 The translation of basmala at the opening line of ʿAqāʾid al-Nasafī. Source: al-Attas (1988).

But how does the older translation of raḥmān and raḥīm differ from its modern counterpart? One thing is clear: in their morphological forms, raḥmān and raḥīm carry a superlative nuance of r-ḥ-m and the two translations convey this sense with the word maha (lit. “great”). For now, let’s set that aspect aside.

The contemporary translation closely reflects the general characteristics of the genre of Qur’an translations, which according to Johanna Pink (2020), typically prioritises the source text over the translator’s ideas or extra textual explanatory materials.

Whether pengasih accurately corresponds to raḥmān and penyayang to raḥīm remains an open question. However, the translator in this instance has rendered each word in the source text with a single word in the translation, demonstrating an effort to remain faithful to the original text.

On the other hand, in the older variant of the translation, raḥmān is rendered as “maha murah” (“the most generous”). This version is also trying to be faithful to the source text, albeit using a different diction from the contemporary translation. As a side note, this translation endured for quite some time; even Ahmad Hasan in the 1920s used the same rendering, though with the prefix pe-, resulting in pemurah (the generous).

However, with raḥīm, the translator introduces extra-textual material, rendering it “yang mengasihani hambanya di akhirat” (“who cares for His servants in the hereafter”).

If the translators of the older version sought to remain faithful to the source text, their option would have been to find another term in Malay that is morphologically related to murah. It’s possible they couldn’t find one.

However, another likely scenario is that the translators were fully aware that both words are bound to specific meanings in the scholastic tradition of Islamic thought. As names of God, these words carry a particular significance that goes beyond the literal meaning suggested by their etymology.

Indeed, within the scholastic tradition the commonly accepted meaning is that raḥmān refers to Allah’s mercy towards believers and non-believers in this world, while raḥīm refers specifically to His mercy towards believers in the hereafter.

It is likely that the translators of ʿAqāʾid al-Nasafī and Tarjuman al-mustafīd were drawing on this understanding. Since raḥīm carries a more specific meaning than raḥmān, they chose to provide a more explicit translation for the former, one rooted in the tradition of Islamic thought. Searching for the corresponding Malay words for each Arabic term in the source text is certainly their objective. However, in some other cases, they could not overlook the scholastic meaning.

Three centuries have passed, and contemporary translators seem quite comfortable with pengasih and penyayang. For one thing, kasih-sayang, the root of pengasih and penyayang, is an idiom widely used in Indonesian. Contemporary translators may have perceived raḥmān and raḥīm as two words of an idiomatic expression in Arabic, much like kasih-sayang in Indonesian.

But, have they disregarded the scholastic meaning?

I suspect the answer is yes in this case. They have 'conceded' to the demands of the genre of Qur’an translation and set aside the scholastic interpretation.

Qur’an translators in Indonesia today remain closely connected to the Islamic scholastic tradition and are aware of the nuanced semantic connotation of raḥmān and raḥīm.

However, because these subtle meanings cannot be fully captured by the available vocabulary in Indonesian, and given the need for translations that are concise, efficient, and highly readable (as seen in the official Qur’an translation of the Republic of Indonesia), they have settled on pengasih and penyayang.

I refer to them as having ‘conceded’ because I do not believe they currently view pengasih and penyayang as the ‘new home’ for raḥmān and raḥīm. In other words, kasih and sayang have not been infused with the semantic nuances of raḥmān and raḥīm.

Likewise, I also believe that most Indonesians would see kasih and sayang as interchangeable. Therefore, the change in contemporary translations may also suggest that raḥmān and raḥīm can be used interchangeably. While in older versions ‘mengasihani’ (a word derived from kasih) was the translation for raḥīm, in the contemporary version ‘pengasih’ is used as the translation for raḥmān. This, however, is not something that the scholastic tradition would allow. However, it is not an issue in the contemporary translation, because they have ‘conceded.’

I suspect the concession in this case relates to the idea of ‘distance.’ In ʿAqāʾid al-Nasafī, the translation maintains a very close relationship with the source text, following an interlinear format. In contemporary translations, however, the translation is positioned at a greater distance, which has a noticeable impact on the expectation for translators to remain faithful to the scholastic tradition.

Proximity to the source text reflects a strong connection to the scholastic tradition, the original ecosystem of the source text. In contrast, the distance from the source text in contemporary Qur'an translations is intended to reduce the gap between the text and its audience. This highlights a difference in priorities between preserving the ecosystem of the source text and engaging with the readers.

 

References:

Al-Attas, Syed Muhammad Naquib. The Oldest Known Malay Manuscript: A 16th Century Malay Translation of The ʿAqāʾid of al-Nasafī (Kuala Lumpur: Department of Publications University of Malaya, 1988).

Lukman, Fadhli. The Official Indonesian Qurʾān Translation: The History and Politics of Al-Qur’an Dan Terjemahnya. 1st ed. Vol. 1 The Global Qur’an (Cambridge, UK: Open Book Publishers, 2022).

Pink, Johanna. “The ‘Kyai’s’ Voice and the Arabic Qur’an; Translation, Orality, and Print in Modern Java.” Wacana 21, no. 3 (December 2020): 329–359.

 

As one of the most appreciated works in kakawin literature, alongside Rāmāyaṇa and Bhāratayuddha, Arjunawiwāha seems to have been a popular candidate for translation from Old Javanese into Modern Javanese. For example, there is a manuscript of this text entitled Serat Wiwaha Jarwa in macapat verse (MN 474), dated 1842 and attributed to the Dutch scholar C.F. Winter with the help of R. Ng. Ronggawarsita; a manuscript entitled Serat Wiwaha Jarwa Sekar Macapat in macapat verse (KS 423.1), composed in 1778 by Sri Susuhunan Pakubuwana III; and a manuscript entitled Serat Arjuna Wiwaha Kawi-Jarwa (HN25) in which each Old Javanese stanza is translated into Modern Javanese prose by an anonymous translator in the mid-19th century. 

This blog focuses on a manuscript coded KBG 342, preserved in the Perpustakaan Nasional Republik Indonesia. It contains Arjunawiwāha as an Old Javanese source text and its Modern Javanese word-for-word translation. The translation adopts the interlinear model which is placed below the source text. This manuscript has three distinctive features. 

Figure 1: Arjunawiwāha in Old Javanese and an interlinear translation in Modern Javanese, Perpustakaan National Republic Indonesia, KBG 342. 

The first point is that each poetry line in the source text is written without any breaks. Although the Modern Javanese translation follows the word order of the Old Javanee source text, each word of the source text and its equivalent are not immediately identifiable because the Old Javanese text is not broken down into words by commas or spaces. This is distinctive from other word-for-word translations from Old Javanese into Modern Javanese. For example, there are manuscripts with a column structure. In these manuscripts, the page is divided vertically into several columns (usually two or three), with the leftmost column containing words or phrases from the source text, while the columns to the right contain the Modern Javanese translations. In this structure, the Old Javanese words or phrases in the left column are written one by one in each line. Also, there are manuscripts with alternating translations, in which each word of the source text and its equivalent are arranged alternately, separated by commas. In this structure the words in the source text are written separately by inserting the translation words between them. Therefore, both structures have the source text broken down into words.  

In KBG 342, however, the source text Arjunawiwāha doesn’t appear word by word, but from one poetry line to another, separated by specific marks. The readers therefore need at least the following: first, they are required to possess the ability to break down an Old Javanese poetry line written continuously into words; then, they are also required to match the Old Javanese words in the divided-up source text with Modern Javanese words in the right order. 

The second feature is the older script used to write the source text. Looking at bitexts in Old and Modern Javanese in the manuscripts written in the 18th and 19th centuries, many Old Javanese texts are corrupted because of sounds that cannot be represented in modern Javanese script, such as the long vowels ā, ī, ū and the consonants ś, ṣ, ṭ, ḍ, ṇ, which are changed to short vowels or dental sounds, respectively. However, in this manuscript, the source text is transcribed relatively faithfully to the Old Javanese phonetics by using an older script. At the same time, this means that the readers of the manuscript are required to be able to read the script that is not used to represent Modern Javanese. 

Both the first and second features indicate that the manuscript is intended for readers who have a certain knowledge of Old Javanese vocabulary and the older script. The third feature, in contrast, gives the reader some background information on Arjunawiwāha. That third feature is the existence of a summary outlining the story and a word list. The summary precedes the source text and translation. It contains sections numbered from 1 to 51, which means the story is divided into 51 parts. The word list is attached at the end of the manuscript, and entitled punika dasanama (“a list of synonymous words”). It has 44 entries accompanied by one synonym for each word, probably for the clarification of words that appear in the translation. 

The manuscript illustrates an interesting example of a kakawin translation specifically intended for advanced readers who have learned the Old Javanese language and phonetics. The additional information may have been attached for preparation and review before and after the study of Old Javanese through reading Arjunawiwāha. If this is the case, the manuscript’s function can be assumed to have been a textbook that provides learning tools for Old Javanese scholars. 

 

References and image credits: 

PNRI KBG 342, Perpustakaan National Republic Indonesia. 

Florida, Nancy K. 1993. Javanese Literature in Surakarta Manuscripts: Introduction and manuscripts of the Karaton Surakarta. Ithaka, New York: Cornell University Press. 

———. 2000. Javanese Literature in Surakarta Manuscripts: Manuscripts of the Mangkunagaran Palace. Ithaka, New York: Cornell Southeast Asia Program Publications. 

———. 2012. Javanese Literature in Surakarta Manuscripts: Manuscripts of the Radya Pustaka Museum and the Hardjonagaran Library. Ithaka, New York: Cornell Southeast Asia Program Publications. 

Robson, Stuart. 2008. Arjunawiwāha. The marriage of Arjuna of Mpu Kanwa. Bibliotheca Indonesica, 34. Leiden: KITLV Press.