The dark expanse of the banyan tree above the temple gate casts a dense shadow on the courtyard and the carvings that flicker like apparitions in the uneven light. A serpentine stream of bodies coils itself, circle within circle, around a large, branching torch. Two hemispheres of men one, a pattern of silhouettes the other, sculptural faces of brown skin caught in a net of torchlight. The half seen multitude waits in silence. A priest enters with offerings, a blessing of holy water. One piercing voice cracks the suspense the circle electrifies.


No other dance is so unnerving as the amazing Kecak one hundred and fifty men who, by a regimented counter play of sounds, simulate the orchestration of the gamelan. Kecak, a name indicating the chak-a-chak sounds, evolved from the male chorus of the ritual Sanghyang trance ceremony. By a choreography ingeniously simple, chorus is transfigured into, ecstasy. The annihilation of the individual, the cries, the erratic pulse of sound and sublimated violence of the Kecak are perfectly contained in the precise use of a few basic motions of head, arm sand torso. Through coordination rehearsed for months prior to a performance, various parts of the dance merge in a startling continuum of grouped motion and voice. Many words and gestures have no meaning other than as derivatives of incantations to drive out evil, as was the original purpose of the sanghyang chorus.
Kecaks include a drama, in which the circle of light a round the torch becomes a stage, and its periphery of men, a living theatre with all effects. Accompanied by the bizarre if human instruments, the storyteller relates the episode enacted within the performance one drawn from the Ramayana. When demon king Rawana leaps to the centre, the chorus simulates his flight with a long hissing sound. When Hanuman enters the mystic circle, the men become an army of chattering monkeys hence, the nickname Monkey Dance.