The morning the two princesses departed from Kayangan, the heavens were bright beneath a cloudless sky. Sunlight spilt across the golden roofs of the celestial palace, and the gardens stirred with a gentle breeze that carried the fragrance of jasmine and frangipani. Yet beneath the splendour of the day, the celestial court remained troubled by the discord that had taken root in Borneo.
Puteri Santubong stood at the palace steps, looking down at the clouds that concealed the mortal world. She had heard her father's account of the quarrel between Pasir Kuning and Pasir Putih, but the details still troubled her. How could two neighbouring communities allow a dispute over a piece of land to grow until even the simplest exchange between them had become an act of hostility?
Beside her, Puteri Sejinjang adjusted the sash around her waist. Unlike her sister, she appeared eager to begin the journey. She had never visited the mortal world, and the prospect of leaving Kayangan stirred her curiosity.
"Do you think the villagers will listen to us?" Sejinjang asked, turning towards Santubong.
Santubong considered the question. "They might, if we understand what has made them so stubborn."
"And if they refuse?"
"Then we must find another way to reach them."
Sejinjang gave a small sigh. "You always make things sound so complicated."
"Because they often are." Santubong glanced at her sister, a faint smile touching her lips. "Our father told us not to judge either village before hearing both sides. We cannot expect people to trust us if we arrive believing we already know the answer."
"I know that." Sejinjang folded her arms, though her expression softened. "I only hope we won't spend our entire time listening to two headmen argue over a patch of earth."
Santubong laughed quietly. "That depends on whether you can persuade them to stop arguing."
"Then perhaps you should do the persuading while I make certain they listen."
"That sounds rather like giving yourself the easier task."
"Does it?" Sejinjang replied, feigning innocence. "You are the one who is good with words."
Before Santubong could answer, the celestial ruler approached them. Their conversation ceased, and both princesses bowed.
"Are you ready to depart?" he asked.
"We are, Father," Santubong answered.
The ruler studied his daughters for a moment. He had entrusted them with a task that required more than beauty or skill. The people of Pasir Kuning and Pasir Putih had allowed their resentment to grow unchecked. Persuading them to abandon it would demand patience, judgment, and a willingness to hear things they might not wish to hear.
"Remember what I told you," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Do not take sides merely because one person speaks more convincingly than another. Listen to the grievances of both villages. Find out what happened, and help them understand what their quarrel has cost them."
Santubong inclined her head. "We will remember."
Sejinjang placed a hand against her chest. "We shall not disappoint you, Father."
"I hope you will not." The ruler's gaze moved between them. "But do not mistake success for making everyone happy. Sometimes, the right decision is one that neither side welcomes at first."
The sisters exchanged a glance. It was a sobering reminder, but neither questioned their father's wisdom.
With a final blessing, the celestial ruler raised his hand. A soft radiance gathered around the princesses, enveloping them in light. The clouds parted beneath their feet, revealing the distant green forests and winding rivers of Borneo.
Santubong took a breath, steadying herself against the sudden rush of wind.
"Ready?" she asked her sister.
Sejinjang grinned. "I was ready before you asked."
Together, the two princesses descended from Kayangan towards the mortal world.
Their arrival in Borneo did not go unnoticed.
The people of Pasir Kuning were gathered near their fields when a brilliant light appeared beyond the trees. Several farmers straightened from their work, shielding their eyes against its brightness. One man dropped the bundle of stalks he had been carrying.
"What is that?" he exclaimed.
Others turned towards the clearing. The light gradually faded, revealing two women standing beneath the trees. Their garments were unlike anything the villagers had seen, and there was a quiet majesty about them that made the crowd fall silent.
The village elders approached cautiously. Tok Batin Kuning, summoned from his house, arrived with a few of his men behind him.
"Who are you, and what brings you to our village?" he asked, his voice guarded.
Santubong stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
"We have come from Kayangan," she replied. "Our names are Puteri Santubong and Puteri Sejinjang. We have been sent to help resolve the dispute between your village and Pasir Putih."
At the mention of the neighbouring village, Tok Batin Kuning's expression darkened.
"Then you have come to hear our grievances," he said. "Good. You should know that we have been wronged."
"We have come to hear the grievances of both villages," Santubong corrected gently. "We will not make a judgment until we understand what has happened."
Tok Batin Kuning appeared displeased by the answer, but the presence of the princesses and the extraordinary manner of their arrival left him reluctant to dismiss them.
"You may speak with our elders," he said at last. "They know the history of the disputed land."
"Thank you," Santubong replied. "That is where we would like to begin."
Sejinjang followed her sister into the village. As they passed the houses, she noticed the wary expressions of the people watching them. Some whispered behind their hands, while others regarded the visitors with open curiosity.
A young girl peered around the doorway of a house, clutching her mother's skirt.
"Mother, are they really princesses?" she whispered.
Her mother gently drew her back. "Mind your manners, child."
Sejinjang heard the exchange and smiled at the girl. The child quickly hid behind her mother, but not before returning the smile.
The princesses were given a place to rest while the elders assembled. Soon, several men gathered in the village hall, where Tok Batin Kuning recounted the history of the quarrel.
"The land has belonged to our people for generations," he insisted, striking his palm against his knee. "When the river changed course, the people of Pasir Putih used the flood as an excuse to claim it. We cannot allow them to take what is ours."
Santubong listened without interruption. When he finished, she asked, "Do you have records or witnesses that can establish where the old boundary stood?"
"We have elders who remember the land as it was," Tok Batin Kuning answered. "Their fathers worked those fields before them."
"Then we should speak with them."
Sejinjang leaned forward. "And what about the people of Pasir Putih? Have you heard their explanation?"
Tok Batin Kuning frowned. "Their explanation is that they are entitled to land that was never theirs."
"That is their claim," Sejinjang replied. "We have yet to hear why they believe it."
The headman looked at her in surprise. He had expected the princesses to listen to his account and immediately recognise the injustice he believed his people had suffered.
Santubong rose from her seat. "We will visit Pasir Putih tomorrow. Until then, I ask that you refrain from sending anyone to the disputed field. There must be no more fighting while we investigate the matter."
Tok Batin Kuning hesitated before giving a reluctant nod.
"We shall wait," he said. "But we will not surrender our rights."
"Nor have we asked you to," Santubong assured him. "We have asked only for patience."
As evening settled over Pasir Kuning, the villagers gradually returned to their homes. Cooking fires flickered beneath the eaves, sending thin trails of smoke into the darkening sky. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed, followed by the familiar clatter of pots and the low murmur of families gathering for supper.
Santubong thanked their hosts as they showed the sisters inside. The woman had prepared a simple meal of rice, vegetables and freshly caught fish. Though the princesses had eaten in the splendour of Kayangan all their lives, neither complained about the humble fare.
"This is more than enough," Santubong assured the woman when she apologised for the simplicity of the meal.
The elderly woman smiled with relief before leaving them to rest.
Sejinjang settled into a bersimpuh position on the bamboo floor, examining the food laid out on a woven mat before her. Santubong sat beside her, smoothing the folds of her skirt over her legs.
"I never imagined that we would be staying in a longhouse," Sejinjang remarked, glancing around their separate quarters.
"Where else should we stay?" Santubong asked, lifting a bamboo cup to her lips.
"I don't know. Somewhere more comfortable, perhaps." Sejinjang picked up a little rice with her fingers, then looked towards the open doorway. "Although I suppose it would be difficult to understand these people if we stayed apart from them."
Santubong gave her sister an amused look. "You are learning already."
"Don't sound so pleased with yourself." Sejinjang nudged her lightly with an elbow. "We haven't even settled the dispute."
"Nor will we settle it in a single day. Father told us to be patient."
At the mention of their father, Sejinjang's expression grew thoughtful. She set down her food and listened to the sounds drifting in from the neighbouring houses. The villagers' voices were ordinary and unremarkable, yet there was something about them that made the mortal world feel different from Kayangan. Here, people worked until their hands ached, worried about the next harvest, and guarded the little they possessed because losing it might mean hardship for their families.
"Do you think the headman truly believes the land belongs to his village?" Sejinjang asked after a while.
"I think he believes he has been wronged," Santubong replied. "Whether he is right about the boundary is another matter."
"And Tok Batin Putih will probably say the same thing."
"That is why we must hear him."
Sejinjang leaned back against the wall, letting out a slow breath. "Then tomorrow will be another day of listening to headmen argue."
"Perhaps." Santubong's smile was faint. "But we may also learn something useful."
Their conversation gradually faded as the night deepened. Outside, the village settled into quietness, broken only by the chirping of insects and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
The sisters prepared for bed in the simple room their hosts had provided. There were no silken curtains, polished floors, or servants to attend to their needs, but the house was clean and welcoming. After the long journey from Kayangan, both welcomed the chance to rest.
Santubong lay awake for a little while, thinking about the dispute and the stubbornness she had seen in Tok Batin Kuning. She knew that listening would be only the first step. If the two villages had allowed resentment to shape their lives for so long, persuading them to change would require more than a clever argument.
Across from her, Sejinjang had already closed her eyes, her breathing slow and even.
Santubong turned towards the open window. Beyond the dark rooftops, the river flowed quietly beneath the stars, separating the two villages whose people had forgotten how to live as neighbours.
Tomorrow, she and her sister would cross those waters and hear the other side of the story.
For now, there was nothing more to do but rest.