1 The Born

Mojopahit's sky had never been this beautiful.

Stars shone complementing the lonely radiant moon framed by navy blue universe. The wind blow lightly, carressing the tips of kemangi leaves, bringing the fresh air through entire city mixed with ignited incense.

In the city corner, near the renowned-capital holy Dharmo forest, lied an exuberate hill, topped by a humble yet elegant hut. Clearly well treated and magnanimous, the hut is decorated with bamboo torch and a rattan bench. There, along with crickets, a baby cry heard loudly, shutting animals sound.

Sang Hyang Widhi has blessed the country with such a beautiful arival. A baby girl, born to be a goddess, lighting the Wekasan night