Indonesian low-resource ASR corpus

High-quality Indonesian audio from real-life scenarios (including short and long clips), with a signal-to-noise ratio ≥10 dB and a word accuracy rate of 97%. The collection covers everyday conversations, interviews, radio broadcasts, and more. Each audio file is paired with its corresponding transcript, directly supporting Indonesian speech recognition, speech synthesis, and multilingual large model training.

Short audio clips are under 1 minute; long audio clips exceed 1 minute.

{
   "transcript": "I was really crying alone in my boarding house when I found out that the train tickets back to Banyuwangi were sold out. I refreshed the page countless times until my fingers were trembling, but still couldn't get a ticket. In the end, I spent my first Eid holiday in Jakarta—alone. Luckily, my favorite stall remembered to send me banana kolak and es campur at sunset. I ate while scrolling through my friends' reunion stories. Oh, it felt so heartbreaking, but what could I do? Apparently, my fortune that day was only enough for some kolak and es campur.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "I'm at the coffee shop next to UGM Library, sipping an orange ice drink that's already starting to melt. I'm rushing to finish our group PPT—it's exhausting because I had a full lecture this morning. Then, when I opened my chat, one of my groupmates said he's interning at BNI Saleman and super busy, handing over all his tasks to me. I haven't even finished collecting data yet—how could he be so careless? Am I not busy too? On top of that, he just replied, 'I'll update you when I have time,' even though the deadline is tomorrow at 8 AM. This really makes me frustrated!",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "male"
 }

{
   "transcript": "It's like a small act of kindness—sometimes, simple gestures like these can truly bring peace to your heart.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "But right during prom night, the beach was flooded—the water reached up to my knees. I tried daringly wading through it, but I couldn't make it at all. Even after walking and waiting for the tide to recede, it still wouldn't go down. In the end, I could only hang out at the stall outside my dorm, staring at my watch. The deadline passed, the documents weren't finished, and I felt extremely frustrated! Of course, I could submit online, but this was something that required an in-person visit—what could I do? I'd done everything possible, but Allah's will cannot be defied. It's exhausting.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "My shoes immediately filled with mud, soaked through, smelling of earth mixed with oil. I was utterly exhausted, especially since I had to walk slowly to avoid slipping. When I arrived at the office, my colleagues laughed seeing me looking like I'd just crossed a river. It was funny, but I felt incredibly lazy. After working all day in soggy, muddy shoes, I felt completely disoriented.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "I'm originally from a small village in the mountains of Malang! Every morning, the air there is refreshingly crisp, fragrant with fresh apples from orchards everywhere. Unlike Jakarta, where stepping into the MRT station immediately hits you with the smell of sweat from crowded people! Back home, waking up at five o'clock already means hearing birdsong—not car horns. The difference is huge. Sometimes I miss it—I wish I could spend just one day wandering around the orchards, taking deep breaths. Here, even updating my status feels refreshing, let alone the air! How can life be so divided between two worlds? But what can I do? Living in Jakarta is my choice, yet my heart remains in my hometown.
I live in a luxurious complex in South Jakarta, but it feels like I'm living alone. Neighbors on either side? Never actually met them. All we have is a WhatsApp group, which mostly sends notifications like 'There's a package at the front door,' 'The electricity is off,' or 'Don't forget to pay dues!' That's it—no casual chats, let alone asking how everyone's doing. Sometimes I see them driving fancy cars, exchanging brief smiles before heading straight inside. I'd love to get to know them, but how? Everyone seems so busy—or maybe they're just not interested. It feels strange: living so close yet so distant. This is modern life—physically close, emotionally far away. Why does this make me feel sad? Maybe I'm just overthinking things.
I've been a night worker for ages, so during the day I always sleep. As a result, I often miss family events—my nephew's birthday, my aunt's gathering, and even Eid sometimes ends up being just a video call. It's sad, like I'm absent from those closest to me. But what can I do? It's my lifestyle choice. Fortunately, Surabaya at night is very peaceful, especially during light rain. That kind of atmosphere helps my writing ideas flow smoothly. No distractions, no noisy WhatsApp group updates. So even if I miss moments with my family, I can still create. It's not ideal, but I believe they'll understand someday. Hopefully!
In Jogja, I haven't been called Dwi Prasetyo for a long time. At campus, everyone simply calls me Tyo—easy to pronounce, like the city itself, which moves so slowly. At first, it felt a bit odd, since back home we always used full names, especially during roll call. But gradually, I grew comfortable with it—it felt more intimate. Like we're not in a rush, no need for formalities. Even professors call me Tyo—with a smile. A full name is heavy, especially during Jogja's scorching heat. So Tyo sounds simpler, warmer, and truly part of the city's rhythm. I really like it!
Every Eid, I always wear my mother's hand-sewn kebaya with jasmine flower patterns—it never changes. It's become almost a ritual. Whenever I put it on, I instantly feel connected to my grandmother's house in Central Java, where I grew up. I vividly remember my mother sewing while softly humming, the needle gliding across the fabric, and the lingering scent of jasmine from the yard. Now, even though I haven't been home in years, I still wear that kebaya during Eid, just to feel like I'm returning—even if only through memories. Despite today's digital age, for me, this garment is more than just clothing—it's part of my soul! How can a single piece of cloth bring such peace to my heart?
I truly feel like I've discovered a little paradise at that stall on Pandanaran Street!",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "male"
 }

{
   "transcript": "I still vividly remember finding him in the alley behind Tanah Abang Market—so skinny, his fur matted, yet his eyes sharp as if challenging the world. At first, I only gave him food, never expecting him to stick around so long. Now? He's become part of my life. During hot days like these, he gets restless, so I try making a concoction of sambiloto leaves and kencur, following my grandmother's recipe. Unexpectedly, he calms down! I'm amazed he's gotten so good at handling cats with herbal remedies. But what can I do? He's practically family now. Sometimes I wonder if he's saving me instead of the other way around. Funny how life surprises us with little things like this.
I never imagined I'd end up like this. One day, while strolling around Senopati, I came across a local black-and-white cat who looked really weak. Poor thing! I brought him home, and he's been staying with me for a week now. These days, I cook him rice mixed with boiled fish—a recipe from a cat-lovers' group on WhatsApp—to keep him healthier than dry food. I also give him deworming medicine every two weeks, since it's crucial for stray cats. At first, he was still wild, but now he's started sticking around, sleeping at my feet at night. It feels like I've gained a new friend who understands me. Who would've thought such a small gesture could bring such calmness? Anyway, I've fallen in love with him!",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "When my father fell seriously ill and could no longer work, I had to make a quick decision. The train ticket to Jogja I'd dreamed of for so long? Forget it—I canceled it! No hesitation, because money was more important for buying uniforms and exercise books for my younger sibling. Seriously, seeing my sibling smile in their new uniform made me feel so relieved! Yes, I missed my vacation, but I don't regret it at all. My father even said, 'You're amazing, my child.' That made me even more motivated! Life sometimes requires sacrifices for the sake of family. But why does it make me feel stronger instead? Like all those sacrifices have meaning.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "I'm really passionate about bringing sketchbooks to Ragunan, especially when I see the Javan rhinoceros! Seriously, I sit in front of its enclosure, sketching while reading information on the educational board. It's become my weekly ritual! Every time I see its calm eyes, I think: oh, I hope our future generations can still meet this rare animal in person, not just through photos. Sometimes I feel guilty—back then, I didn't care much, but now? I don't want to miss any conservation updates! Friends sometimes ask, 'Why are you so diligent?' Well, of course! This is our national heritage—shouldn't we protect it from extinction? I want to bring back hope every time I return from there, not just sketches!",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "Whenever I finish singing traditional songs by Grissee, I feel like I've shed a burden—seriously! I immediately flash a big smile at my phone camera, record briefly, and upload it to Instagram so everyone knows I'm deeply in love with Javanese music. Friends sometimes ask, 'Why are you so dedicated?' Well, of course! This isn't just a hobby—it's my way of preserving cultural heritage. And the response always boosts my spirits: some say my voice is soothing, others request lyrics, and some even join in singing along via stories! I'm sometimes surprised how such small things can brighten someone's day. As long as there are listeners, I'll keep singing!",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "I was skeptical about shamans or traditional healers—thought it was just myth. But when I suffered chronic stomach pain for several months, I went to the doctor, did blood tests and ultrasounds—all normal—but the pain persisted. Out of curiosity, I tried visiting a village shaman recommended by my aunt. At first, I was embarrassed, afraid of being labeled old-fashioned. But he turned out to be very friendly, explaining everything logically and even advising me to continue regular check-ups with doctors. That's when I realized it wasn't about choosing between traditional and modern methods—it was about building trust step by step. Health comes first, of course! Now I combine both approaches, and my body feels much better. Sometimes, seemingly different things can coexist peacefully.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "Last time I was at Bali Safari, I saw Komodo dragons in real life—not photos or videos, but the real thing! Watching that creature move slowly, with sharp eyes and a massive body, it was both scary and cool. Suddenly, I understood why our ancestors once revered it as a deity or sacred guardian. Its aura is truly unique—not just because of its size, but something else that sent chills down my spine, as if it had been guarding this island for ages. I was so stunned I forgot to take a photo! Seriously, that moment made me realize nature is full of mysteries—and we should protect it, not fear it. Komodo dragons are incredible—why have I only seen them online until now? I regret not coming earlier!",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "I was riding around the Yogyakarta Palace on my motorcycle, leisurely and unhurried. Suddenly, an elderly man walked by wearing a complete batik outfit, impeccably neat. I immediately turned off my engine, got off my bike, and bowed politely, saying 'nuwun sewu.' It's become a habit whenever I'm in Yogyakarta, especially near the palace. It feels wrong to just speed past—it's disrespectful. The gentleman smiled slightly, nodded in return, and continued walking slowly. I waited until he safely crossed the street. It wasn't about fearing sin or anything—it was more about respecting local culture. Simple, but it brings peace to the heart. It feels great to be part of such a serene atmosphere.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }

{
   "transcript": "While walking around Bogor, it suddenly started pouring rain—as if the sky had sprung a leak! Streets instantly turned into streams. Luckily, I quickly ducked into Botani Square before getting soaked. Inside, I ordered an icy Indonesian iced tea that chilled me to the bone, then sat by the window watching the rain pour outside. People rushed to find shelter, while I stayed safe, cool, and enjoyed a sweet cup of tea. It felt like the world outside was chaotic, but here everything was calm. I thought, Ah, how nice it is to pause like this—no need to rush, no worries about work, just sitting, drinking, and watching the rain. That's all it takes—such peace.",
     "language": "Indonesian",
     "gender": "female"
 }