When PM Narendra Modi landed in Yogyakarta during his state visit, the headline wasn’t about trade or defence. It was about stone. India and Indonesia jointly launched a restoration project for Prambanan, the 1,000-year-old Hindu temple complex that still dominates the skyline of Central Java. The choice of venue was deliberate. In a country that is today the world’s largest Muslim-majority nation, Prambanan stands as proof that Indonesia’s identity was built on layers — and that one of the deepest layers is Hindu. The project is small in dollars, but huge in symbolism: two democracies agreeing that heritage predates modern religious lines, and that preserving it is a shared responsibility.
Prambanan is not one temple. It is a complex of 240 structures built around the 9th century during the Mataram Kingdom, long before Islam arrived in Java.
The centrepiece is the Trimurti, three towering shrines dedicated to Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and Shiva the Destroyer. The Shiva temple, the tallest at 47 meters, is covered in reliefs from the Ramayana. Other shrines honour Shiva’s consort Durga, his bull Nandi, and the Vahana of Vishnu and Brahma.
For centuries it was a major pilgrimage and cultural centre. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions from nearby Mount Merapi, and later neglect damaged much of it. Dutch archaeologists began restoration in the 20th century, and UNESCO declared it a World Heritage Site in 1991. Today it is one of Indonesia’s most visited monuments, and a source of national pride precisely because it represents a pre-Islamic past that Indonesians do not reject.
Indonesia is about 87% Muslim. Yet the state’s founding philosophy, Pancasila, explicitly commits to “Belief in One God” and unity in diversity, Bhinneka Tunggal Ika.
That pluralism is why Prambanan, Borobudur, and hundreds of other Hindu-Buddhist sites are maintained with public funds, promoted in school textbooks, and used for tourism and cultural events. They are not treated as “foreign” relics. They are treated as Indonesian.
Government officials often describe Prambanan as part of the national narrative: a reminder that Java was a centre of sophisticated kingdoms, art, and literature centuries ago. Annual dance performances of the Ramayana are still staged at Prambanan against the temple backdrop, drawing both domestic and international audiences. For Jakarta, preserving this heritage signals to the world, and to its own citizens, that being Indonesian and being Muslim are not in conflict.
India’s involvement is new but fits a pattern. During PM Modi’s visit, both sides announced a joint restoration and conservation effort for Prambanan, with India offering technical expertise, training for Indonesian conservationists, and funding support.
This is part of India’s broader “Act East” policy, which uses culture as soft power in Southeast Asia. The Archaeological Survey of India and Indian conservation experts have similar experience from work at domestic sites like Kedarnath in Uttarakhand and Mahakaleshwar in Ujjain, where structural stabilisation and disaster-resilient restoration were priorities. Prambanan faces the same threats: earthquakes and volcanic ash.
By stepping in, India is not claiming the temple. It is offering to help a neighbour care for shared heritage. Officials framed it as a civilizational partnership, not a religious one. The message: the Ramayana and Mahabharata belong to both countries’ storybooks.
Modi’s speech in Yogyakarta leaned heavily on epics. He noted that the Ramayana and Mahabharata are taught, performed, and referenced across Indonesia, from wayang puppet theatre in Java to temple carvings in Bali.
That is not accidental. Indian traders, priests, and scholars brought Hinduism and Buddhism to the Indonesian archipelago between the 1st and 7th centuries CE. Kingdoms like Srivijaya and Majapahit adopted Sanskrit, temple architecture, and court rituals. When Islam spread from the 13th century onward, it did not erase what came before. It absorbed and coexisted with it.
This is why an Indonesian president can quote the Ramayana and a Hindu temple can be a national icon in a Muslim-majority state. The civilizational link predates modern borders and modern religious demographics. The restoration project is an acknowledgement of that continuity.
Prambanan has survived 12 centuries, but it needs help. The joint project will target three areas:
Funding details are being finalised through cultural agreements, but both sides have signalled that this will be a multi-year effort, not a one-time donation.
On the surface, this is about preserving a tourist site. Underneath, it’s about diplomacy.
For Indonesia, the Indian partnership reinforces its image as a tolerant, plural democracy that protects all faiths and histories. For India, it is a concrete example of “Act East” that is not about weapons or trade deals, but about culture and mutual respect.
It also sends a message to the wider region. In a time when heritage is often politicised, two large Asian democracies are saying that a 1,000-year-old Shiva temple matters to both of them, regardless of who worships there today. That is rare, and deliberate.
Prambanan was built when Java worshipped Shiva. It was damaged, rebuilt, and now it will be restored, this time with Indian engineers standing next to Indonesian ones. The stone is Javanese. The epics are Indian. The commitment is shared.
In that sense, the restoration is not just about saving a temple. It is about remembering that before modern maps, before modern religions, the sea between India and Indonesia was a bridge, not a border.
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