Try to banish all idea of the melody of La Cucaracha, but grip only the pulsing rhythm of the drum beats; see this impressive green and silver costumed dancer in a spotlight against a black front-cloth, and in the background the shades of the mango trees and the noise of the cicadas and crickets. As the music began, Tari danced on from the wings, one hand pressed flat to his stomach, jerking his legs out straight before him in a half running attitude, and when he reached the centre of the stage he faced the audience and from then on he was the Monkey King, the magnificent monkey, so clever and so handsome, who had fought for the Gods of Java against the Personification of Disaster! When the Monkey King had won this great battle, he was given the robes of a real king, and in this dance we saw him in the mountains, near a waterfall, admiring himself. All in time to some mysterious rhythm of his own, seemingly only vaguely connected with the music we heard, he danced.

He rolled and shambled from side to side like a true ape, and as he danced he flicked his selendang proudly behind him to show off his fine clothes. Constantly he regarded himself smugly in the looking-glass of the waterfall, and each time he did so he raised a hand to his brow, palm downwards, his long, beautifully formed and curved fingers fluttering like birds’ wings before his eyes. When he wished to show his importance by stretching up from his legs in a curious and hidden way he seemed to grow inches taller. As he danced, the rhythm played insistently and fiercely on, the gigantic black shadows of the dancer caricaturing his movements on the dark backcloth. Suddenly – perhaps incorrectly – the music ceased! Tari dropped to the ground, and bowed his head to terrific applause . . .

A few days later Noel said to me: ‘John, are you really interested in your Malay and this Javanese dancing or is it . . . well, just something to pass the time?’ I said that I was very interested and eager to learn more. ‘Good,’ said Noel, ‘because if you care to come along tonight you can hear a few kronchongs at the bottom of one of the Dutch huts.’ ‘What’s a kronchong?’ ‘You’ll hear tonight,’ said Noel.