There was once a small village located within the valley of Mount Arayat.

The people lived in peace with

each other and with the nature around them. Such was the life in the village until one day, calamity
struck their land. Their crops died. Their farm animals started dying. And if this goes on, people would
start dying too. A curse is upon them.

Datu Lakan-Alon, alarmed of what is happening to his village gathered all his elders. It was Dimayuga,
the old wise woman who spoke. “I know what is causing all these,” she said. “Our hunters, during one of
their trips, have cut down the Narra tree sacred to our sun god Aring Sinakwan. He is greatly angered by
what they did. That is why he has brought the curse upon our village.”

“What can we do then?” asked one elder.

“One of our young men would have to go up to the mountains and appeal to Aring Sinakuan. It was
Aring Sinakwan who had cursed us, so it is only he who can reverse what has been done to us.”

And so the Datu called his son Bakunawan. “My son,” he said, placing his hands on Bakunawan’s
shoulders. “Our village has wronged Aring Sinakwan and now his curse is upon us. Now I am sending you
on his dwelling on the mountains. The path to Aring Sinakwan’s abode is the most dangerous. Only a few
men have dared journey, and even fewer succeeded. Quitting will cross your mind. But remember that
the fate of our village is in your hands. For the sake of our people, you must not give up.”

Bakunawan started his journey at dawn. His voyage proved to be as difficult as his father had told him.
Finally, he reached the foot of Aring Sinakwan’s mountain. An eagle flew over and stood before him.
“Who goes there?” It asked.

“I am Bakunawan, son of Datu Lakan-Alon. I wish to speak to Aring Sinakwan.”

“I am Galura the Storm-bringer.” The eagle said. “I am Aring Sinakwan’s right hand man. Tell me why
you wish to speak to him.”

“We have wronged Aring Sinakwan. Now our village is under a terrible curse. I wish to plead our case to
him.”

“You have made my master angry indeed. But come, I will take you to him.”

Galura brought the young man to the mountaintop. Aring Sinakwan stood in all his glory, easily dwarfing
Bakunawan. “You and your people have destroyed something that was sacred to me! And you still dare
to come and face me?”

Bakunawan bowed low. “Our hunters did not know that the tree belongs to you, Aring Sinakwan. They
deeply regret what they had done. They had sent you offerings. My village is greatly suffering because of
the curse that you have afflicted. Now my father has sent me to personally ask for your forgiveness.”

“I have seen their offerings,” Aring Sinakwan said. “But they are not enough. I will, however, give you
one chance to save your village. I have great fondness for the Narra tree because it symbolizes strength
and resolve—it is one of the few trees in the forest that can withstand terrible storms. Now,” the god
looked straight at Bakunawan. “Go to where my beloved tree used to stand. I am sending Galura to bring
forth a great storm. If you can be like a Narra tree and remain standing unmoving from that spot until
the storm ends, I will remove the curse from your village and your people.”

And so Bakunawan went to the where Aring Sinakwan’s sacred tree used to be. Galura flew over the
mountains, over to where Bakunawan stands and caused a terrible storm to brew. The thunders rumbled,
the winds grew stronger and in a flash of lightning, strong rains poured down.
Bakunawan, with only a thin cloak as protection stood vulnerable to such violent torrent. He started to
feel tired after hours upon hours of standing in the midst of strong winds and unending rain. A full day
had passed. Galura continued to stir the clouds into frenzy. Lightning flashed. Bakunawan is exhausted.
His shoulders are sagging, and his knees are starting to give in. But for the sake of his village, he must
remain standing.

Another day had passed. Bakunawan looked up the sky; he can see that the storm showed no signs of
ending. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold up much longer.” His exhaustion is taking its toll. He thought of
the people in his village. “I must not give up.” So he drove his bamboo staff into the ground and tied his
hands and feet in it. In that way he is forced to remain standing.

The storm continued to rage. Bakunawan already lost count of how long he stayed standing until finally,
he felt the rains stop and the winds die down. Aring Sinakwan went down and saw the young man still
standing, tied to the bamboo staff. “I see that you indeed had withstood Galura’s storm. You have
endured such hardship for the sake of your people. Your resiliency amazes me. Go back to your village. I
have removed their curse and made him well. Also I am giving you my sword Balaraw—so that your
people will know that you have persevered in a trial that I, Aring Sinakwan had brought forth.”

And so Bakunawan, with the sun god’s sword Balaraw strapped on his back began his long journey
home. Balaraw has taken its place at the center of the village reminding the people of the story of one
young man who had withstood a god’s trial.