Denpasar – Legendary dangdut singer Rhoma Irama and others intent on beefing up the moral fiber of Indonesian society would probably have been scandalized by Friday's spectacle in downtown Denpasar.

In the age-old tradition of omed-omed or med-medan, hundreds of youths braved the rain to warmly hug and kiss anybody they met on the streets in Banjar Kaja, Sesetan. The tradition is performed on Ngembak Geni Day, the day following Nyepi, or the Hindu Day of Silence, which fell on Thursday.

The public display of youthful affection carried new meaning this year, with the porn bill currently being debated in the House of Representatives. Bali was the first province to formally reject the bill, with strong opposition to what local people see as potential constraints on their cultural traditions, as well as to the tourist industry on the resort island.

Despite the lashing of the city by tropical cyclones, crowds lined the streets to observe the sacred ritual. Young women waited shyly, while the boys, many from local Hindu youth organizations, seemed impatient for it to get underway.

Their wait went on, with a number of obligatory rituals to be performed, including a stunning performance of the Barong mythical lion dance. When the dancer was in a trance, it was taken as a sign of the gods' blessing of the omed-omed ritual.

The boys then set off in pursuit of the girls, with some shy pecks on the cheek or, for the bolder types, a kiss on the lips.

Local elders say the ritual dates back to the Oka Sesetan royal family, and the order of one of its ailing members for the local community to keep quiet on Nyepi. The people relaxed and enjoyed themselves instead, and the nobleman found that their unabashed merriment also lifted his spirits.

The tradition has not always been to the liking of outsiders, said community elder Pekak (grandfather) Item. "The Dutch colonial government banned the tradition, as did the Indonesian government soon after independence," the 90-year-old said.

In the 1970s, local authorities also put a stop to the ritual. Locals say strange occurrences began after the ban, such as widespread outbreaks of illness. Villagers believed the gods were angry and the omed-omedan ritual was revived.

"Here, we are having fun with all the village members," said Ketut Wiryani, a participant in the ritual in her youth. "Now, I have two children and the younger residents must keep up the tradition."