Once upon a time, music filled the air, echoing through the auditorium. Applause erupted from every corner, faces glowing with joy, fingers dancing across the strings and keys. The musician bowed deeply, heart full of gratitude.
Yet, the crowd was small, only those nearby, enjoying the music without any sense of unity. High above, on the top riser, sat the Maestro of Arts. His gaze pierced through the air as he spoke to the musician in a voice both firm and gentle.
"Your music is beautiful," said the Maestro. "But in the end something is missing."
The musician's smile faded, replaced by a serious frown. "What do you mean, honored Maestro? What is missing? did my song, my music didnt touch their hearts?"
"Your song touches the heart," replied the Maestro, "but it is not the heart of the nation. Not all people can feel it. You are expressing only one group, one voice, one tradition."
The musician sighed. "But this country… it is not one people. Not one culture, not one language, not one color, not one faith."
The Maestro smiled softly. "Then travel. Walk through every land, feel the sands of the shores, listen to the voices of the people. You will find true art, art that speaks to all hearts."
Determined, the musician began his journey. To discover what the maestro trying to show.
First, he discovered the Gamelan. Its melodies danced in the air, embracing every soul that listened. In its gentle whispers, it told the history of the islands. Approaching the player, he asked, "What is art?"
"Art is the breath of nature, the reflection of humanity, a voice louder than words," the player replied.
Impressed, The Musician turned to the players "would you like to join me?" The musician asked softly.
Next came the Talempong, played upon the wooden floor of a traditional hall. Its sound rolled like gentle waves caressing the shore. The musician invited the Talempong player to join the quest for true art—and he agreed.
In the forests of Kalimantan, the Sape sang under the stars. Its melody courted the night wind, coaxing leaves to whisper in harmony. The musician and his companions asked the Sape player to join—and he did.
Then they found the Kolintang in Sulawesi. Its silver notes fell like rain in the valley, reviving every spirit it touched. The Kolintang player joined them.
Finally, the Tifa of Papua sounded its powerful rhythm, striking the air like a storm, yet uniting everyone who listened. He too joined the ensemble.
Days passed as they met, they practiced together. They shared songs, laughter, and stories. In their Joy, the musician Saw another kind of art, the beauty of difference.
At last, the musician understood. True art, art of the heart and nation, was not just one melody, one island, or one tradition—but the unity of all.
Returning to the auditorium, the ensemble took their places:
Gamelan on the podium,
Talempong beside it,
Sape to the left,
Kolintang at the back,
Tifa on the right.
Aligned and equal, they played together. The music soared, filling every ear, every heart, every soul. People came from across the islands, no longer separated by color, language, or belief.
The sound was magnificent, captivating all heart not just a bit, unforgettable until their last heartbeat. The Maestro's eyes filled with tears.
"In the beginning until the last, how did you achieve this?" he asked.
The musician smiled, standing tall.
"We are not one color, one language, one nation, one culture, or one faith. But we are human. One soul, one body, one life. We have a home, a purpose, a heart united. We are one nation."
The Maestro, moved beyond words, whispered, "What shall we call this masterpiece?"
The musician beamed. "Nusantara."
FIN!