In the lush jungle of Java, Kancil the mouse-deer was known as the smartest animal in the forest. With honey-colored fur, legs as thin as twigs, and a permanent smile that hinted at a plan, he stood by the riverbank. His little heart raced at the sight on the other side: an absolutely spectacular cucumber patch. Fat, juicy cucumbers glistening under the Java sun. The problem was the river. Wide, fast-flowing, and filled to the brim with crocodiles, led by Pak Buaya, the biggest, oldest, and hungriest of them all.
Kancil sat on the bank and let his little brain work at full speed. Pak Buaya poked his yellow eyes above the water and grinned, showing his hundred teeth. 'Good morning, Kancil! How lucky you came by. We were just thinking of you for breakfast.' Kancil didn't blink. 'Pak Buaya! How fortunate you are! I come on behalf of King Solomon himself. His Majesty wants to count all the crocodiles in the river to give you... royal prizes!' The crocodiles looked at each other. Prizes sounded very appealing.
'Prizes?' grumbled Pak Buaya, scratching his scales with the captain's hat he always wore crooked. 'What kind of prizes?' 'Surprise prizes,' replied Kancil in the most solemn voice he could muster. 'His Majesty says they are too special to describe. But you must be perfectly lined up from shore to shore to be counted.' The crocodiles were thrilled. No one in the history of the Java jungle had ever offered them surprise prizes. Pak Buaya gave the order, and the crocodiles began to line up, forming a perfect, scaly bridge from one bank to the other.
Kancil began to cross, counting out loud: 'One! Two! Three!' He hopped joyfully from back to back while the crocodiles held still, waiting for their prize. 'Four! Five!' He was halfway across the river. The cucumbers were so close he could almost smell them. 'Six! Seven!' Only three crocodiles left. His plan was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing at all. And it was exactly then that the entire jungle shook.
A rumble came from the heart of the jungle. Birds flew in all directions. Monkeys clung to their branches. Pak Buaya's eyes widened so much that his captain's hat nearly fell off. Then, echoing through the trees with impossible energy for 3 AM, came the shout: 'WAKE UP!!! IT'S 3 AM!!! TIME TO GET UP!!!' Tung Tung Sahur burst through the vines like a wooden torpedo, wielding his battered bat with the enthusiasm of someone on a sacred mission. His carved face showed an expression of utmost urgency.
Tung Tung didn't register the crocodiles. Tung Tung didn't register the river. Tung Tung only registered that it was time for Sahur and no one was awake yet. The log shot forward with absolutely accidental precision, and his battered bat connected directly with Pak Buaya's head with a sound that echoed through the jungle: CRACK! The great crocodile's teeth flew out like confetti at a birthday party. His captain's hat spun three times in the air before landing in the water.
What followed can only be described as an involuntary percussion concert. BONK! The second crocodile lost its balance. BONG! The third sank half a meter. BONK-BONK! The fourth and fifth collided with each other, making a sound like giant maracas. The crocodiles holding the line began to sink, emerge, spin, and crash into each other in absolute and wonderful chaos. Tung Tung continued to strike rhythmically, convinced he was fulfilling his duty to wake up the entire jungle.
Kancil, who had been frozen in amazement on the back of the seventh crocodile, saw his chance. While the crocodiles stumbled in all directions and Tung Tung continued his peculiar concert, the little mouse-deer simply... kept running. 'Eight! Nine! Ten!' The crocodiles, too busy not drowning or getting more bonks, paid no attention to the tiny animal crossing over their backs. Kancil touched solid ground on the opposite bank and turned to look at the glorious chaos left behind.
Kancil reached the cucumber patch and sat among the huge green cucumbers, looking toward the river as he ate calmly. In the water, Pak Buaya was picking up his teeth one by one with a dazed expression. The other crocodiles floated belly-up in perfect formation, as if sunbathing, though they were still seeing stars. And Tung Tung Sahur, having completed his mission to wake the jungle, disappeared back into the vines as mysteriously as he had arrived, leaving only the echo of his bonks reverberating among the trees.
That afternoon, under the shade of the bamboo, the jungle animals debated what had happened. 'Was it Kancil's plan?' asked the parrot. 'Or was it Tung Tung?' The mouse-deer smiled his usual smile, the one of someone who always knows more than he says. 'Sometimes,' Kancil replied, 'the best plan is the one that appears just when you need it most. Cleverness doesn't always come from you — sometimes it comes with its own bat.' And he ate the last cucumber. Pak Buaya, from the river, was still searching for his twelfth tooth and his dignity. The captain's hat never reappeared.
