5 Secrets Behind the Mekare-kare Tradition: Why There’s No Revenge After the War?

​Deep in the verdant hills of Karangasem, far from the neon lights of Canggu and the bustling beach clubs of Seminyak, lies a village where time seems to have folded in on itself. This is Tenganan Pegringsingan, the home of the Bali Aga, the island’s original inhabitants.

​Every year, during the holy month of Sasih Sembah, the air here thickens with the scent of crushed greenery and the rhythmic, hypnotic clanging of the sacred Gamelan Selunding. You aren’t here for a dance performance; you are here for Mekare-kare, the legendary Pandan War.

​To the uninitiated, it looks like a scene of chaotic combat: shirtless men, armed with bundles of thorny pandanus leaves, lashing at each other’s backs until blood beads on their skin. But look closer at their faces. There is no anger. There are no gritted teeth of hatred. Instead, there are smiles, laughter, and a profound sense of brotherhood.

​How can a "war" result in such peace? Here are the 5 secrets behind the Mekare-kare tradition and why, in this ancient village, revenge simply doesn't exist.

​The Divine Commander: It’s a Sacrifice, Not a Sport

​The first secret lies in the "Why." For the people of Tenganan, this is not a test of machismo or an athletic competition. It is a high-stakes religious offering to Dewa Indra, the Hindu God of War and the heavens.

​According to local mythology, the Bali Aga were created by Indra himself to be the guardians of this sacred territory. By spilling a few drops of blood upon the earth, the villagers believe they are nourishing the land and honoring the protector who saved them from the tyrannical King Maya Denawa.

​When you watch the combatants, you realize they aren't fighting each other; they are fighting for their God. In their philosophy, the blood shed is a symbolic "manly" sacrifice. Because the intent is spiritual, the ego is removed from the equation. You cannot hold a grudge against a brother who helped you fulfill your divine duty.

​The Shield of Brotherhood: The "Ata" and the Embrace

​If you stand ringside, you’ll notice a peculiar technique. The fighters don’t just swing wildly. They often lock themselves in a tight embrace, lashing at each other’s backs while their chests are pressed together.

​This proximity is the second secret. The Ata (rattan shield) is used to parry blows, but the physical closeness creates a strange intimacy. It is hard to hate someone whose heartbeat you can feel against your own.

​The "war" is over in seconds, a quick flurry of thorns, a defensive block, and then it’s done. Immediately after the bout, the two opponents often hug or pat each other on the shoulder. The transition from "warrior" to "friend" is instantaneous, a psychological switch that reinforces the village's tight-knit social fabric.

​The Miracle of the Yellow Ointment

​Perhaps the most "magical" aspect for travelers to witness is what happens after the fight. As the warriors step out of the arena, their backs are often mapped with red scratches from the Pandan Wong (thorny pandanus).

​This is where the third secret, the Mekare-kare Medicine, comes into play. Village elders apply a bright yellow paste made from:

• ​Saffron and Turmeric: Natural antiseptics.

• ​Galangal: For its anti-inflammatory properties.

• ​Vinegar: To sting the wound shut and prevent infection.

​The travelers who witness this are often stunned. As the paste is rubbed into the scratches, the "pain" seems to evaporate. By the next morning, the wounds have largely scabbed over, and within days, they vanish without a scar. This shared ritual of healing, the act of tending to the "enemy's" wounds, is the ultimate antidote to revenge.

​The Power of the Gringsing: Sacred Protection

​You cannot understand the peace of Tenganan without understanding the Kain Gringsing. Tenganan is the only place in the world that produces this "double-ikat" cloth, a process that can take years to complete.

​The word Gringsing comes from Gring (sick) and Sing (not). Literally, it means "not sick" or "to ward off evil." During the Pandan War, every participant wears this sacred textile.

​The secret here is the belief in spiritual protection. The villagers believe the cloth creates a "sacred aura" around the wearer. When you are wrapped in a garment that took five years to weave and carries the prayers of your ancestors, you carry yourself with a different level of dignity. The Gringsing reminds the warrior that he is a representative of a holy lineage, and a true Tenganan man does not stoop to petty vengeance.

​The Harmony of Gamelan Selunding

​The final secret is the music. Unlike the bright, crashing gamelan you hear in Ubud, the Gamelan Selunding of Tenganan is made of iron, not bronze. Its sound is haunting, ancient, and deeply grounding.

​The music isn't meant to incite a "bloodlust." Instead, it acts as a rhythmic regulator. It keeps the energy of the crowd and the fighters in a state of "controlled trance." The iron notes vibrate through the soil, keeping the atmosphere solemn and focused.

​When the music stops, the "warrior" state of mind evaporates with the last ringing note. The music provides the boundaries; it starts the war, and it decisively ends it, leaving no room for the conflict to spill over into daily life.

​Traveler’s Insight: How to Experience Tenganan

​To witness Mekare-kare is to step into a living museum. However, Tenganan is a residential village with strict rules (Adat). Here is how to visit with respect:

​When to Go

​The ceremony usually takes place in June or July, following the Balinese lunar calendar. The exact dates change annually, so it is best to consult a local guide or check the Karangasem tourism board's schedule a month in advance.

​What to Wear

​While Tenganan is welcoming, modesty is mandatory.

• ​The Sarong: You must wear a traditional Balinese sarong and sash.

• ​Shoulders: Keep your shoulders covered (unless you are a local participant!).

• ​Pro-Tip: If you can afford to purchase a piece of authentic Gringsing from a local family, it is a life-long investment and a beautiful way to support the village economy.

​Getting There

​Tenganan is about a 1.5 to 2-hour drive from Sanur or Denpasar. We recommend hiring a private driver for the day. This allows you to combine your trip with a visit to the Tirta Gangga Water Palace or the Pura Lempuyang "Gates of Heaven."

​Etiquette for Photographers

​Mekare-kare is a visual feast, but don't let your lens get in the way of the ritual.

• ​Avoid the Center: Do not enter the "fighting circle" unless invited.

• ​Ask First: Before taking a close-up portrait of a warrior or an elder, a simple nod or "Permisi?" (Excuse me) goes a long way.

• ​Don't Use Flash: The natural light in Tenganan is spectacular; flash can be distracting to the participants.

​Reflection: The Heart of the Bali Aga

​As the dust settles in the arena and the golden afternoon sun begins to dip behind the terraced hills of Karangasem, the village of Tenganan undergoes a transformation. The adrenaline of the fight dissolves into a communal feast. Men who were "clashing" minutes ago are now sitting on long wooden benches, sharing plates of Lawar and laughing about the day’s events.

​For the traveler, witnessing Mekare-kare offers a profound realization. In our modern world, we often view conflict as something that leaves a permanent scar, a reason for distance or retaliation. But here, in this hidden pocket of Bali, conflict is seen as a necessary, temporary friction that actually polishes the bond between people.

​You leave Tenganan not thinking about the "war," but about the incredible resilience of the human spirit and the power of community. You realize that Bali is not just a collection of beautiful beaches or luxury villas; it is a deep, pulsing feeling. It is a quiet understanding that true beauty is found in the balance of things: the sharp thorn and the healing balm, the spilled blood and the shared laugh, the ancient past and the present moment.

​As the shadows lengthen across the cobblestone paths, you take one last look at the hills. You realize that here, beauty is not merely seen, it is felt in the soul, a lingering reminder that even after the fiercest battle, there can be a profound and lasting peace.