Kolok Getar flexed his biceps, puffed out his chest and jutted a pugnacious jaw. Although the old man was sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, his wiry Balinese frame took on the characteristics of a belligerent bantam fighting cock.
“He used to be known as a real tough guy,” his nephew Wisnu smiled. “He was famous as a martial arts expert and could break coconuts in half with his hand.”
Kolok Getar pointed at a row of palms that were swaying in the hilltop breeze. His gnarled fingers formed the shape of a large sphere and he delivered a vicious chop to the imaginary coconut. The circle of friends seated on the floor around him broke into applause. Apart from their bursts of laughter (and Wisnu’s translations into Indonesian for my benefit), the entire conversation had taken place without a word being uttered.