I first read the word “Java” in a kid picture book. Back then, it didn’t point to a clear place on the map. It was more like a metaphor — the edge of the world, or a mysterious frontier. It was about wildness. About raw, unfiltered power. It was beautiful in a way untouched by modern language.

Surabaya is the biggest city in eastern Java, a land stitched together by volcanoes.

The Javanese once believed that volcanoes were the homes of gods. Especially Shiva — the Hindu deity of destruction and rebirth.

An old manuscript Tantu Pagelaran tells of how the gods anchored Java in place by carrying Mount Meru from India. The mountain broke into pieces along the way—each one becoming a volcano. The largest fell in the east — it became Semeru, the home of Shiva.

So when Bromo erupts, it’s not destruction. It’s just Shiva dancing again.