A cremation is a superb study of all the most important symbols of Balinese
ceremonial life, what anthropologist James Boon calls "a vast historical
and ethnographic musing on the inevitability of death." The Balinese
believe a person's sojourn on earth is but a short interlude in the long
evolutionary process of the soul. Death occurs when the soul escapes from
the body, but out of habit it continues to hover around the corpse. The
soul cannot be freed as long as there is a body; only when the corporeal
container is destroyed by the elements can the soul be liberated from all
worldly ties.
Because the Balinese perceive death not as
an end but as a new beginning, a cremation is a time of joyous celebration,
the greatest day in a person's life. The ngaben ritual is the last
and most important rite a family can perform for a loved one. Failure to
free the soul by neglecting a cremation, or by incomplete or improper rites,
renders the soul into a ghost who will wreak havoc on its neglectful descendants.
For hundreds of years, cremation was a privilege
of the noble classes, but today it is estimated 10-30% of all Hindu Balinese
cremate their dead. Except for the disappearance of suttee, the
practice of widows immolating themselves on the funeral pyres of their
husbands (the last occured in 1903), Balinese ngaben rites haven't
changed significantly in well over 300 years. However, the quality and
elaborate nature of ceremonies performed today are more determined by the
underwriting of overseas film units than by the fees paid to high priests.
A priest's main job is to consecrate the deceased and his effigy with holy
water, cleanse the body before cremation, and write letters of introduction
(ratnyadana) to open the doors of heaven for the soul. Only high
Brahman priests may officiate at cremations of the high-born, and only
the poor would hire a lesser-ranking pemangku.
Pre-Burial and Preparation
The signal of death in a house is a coconut-oil lamp hung from a long
bamboo pole high over the roof. During the period before cremation, the
soul of the deceased is thought to be agitated, longing for release, and
the lamp enables the wandering spirit to find its way home in the dark.
On the first auspicious day after death,
the body is prepared for purification and pre-burial. If the cremation
is to take place quickly and the body to remain in the house, it may be
mummified. If necessary, the teeth are filed. While prayers and mantras
are recited, the corpse is rubbed with a mixture of sandalwood powder,
salt, turmeric, rice-flour, and vinegar. The hands are bound and folded
over on the breast in the gesture of prayer. Mirror-glass is placed on
the eyelids, slivers of steel on the teeth, a gold ring in the mouth, jasmine
flowers in the nostrils, and iron nails on the limbs, all to ensure a more
perfect rebirth with "eyes as bright as mirrors, teeth like steel,
breath as fragrant as flowers, and bones of iron." An egg is rolled
over the body, and the corpse then wrapped in many meters of white cloth.
If the cremation will be postponed and it's
decided the cadaver will be buried and not mummified, the corpse is carried
to the graveyard accompanied by chanting relatives bearing offerings. The
body is then buried, often simply wrapped in cloth and placed directly
on the earth. Open mourning is forbidden; a weeping child is sent out of
the cemetery. The body will lie buried until it is burned. A small bamboo
altar is erected next to the grave and offerings brought to it daily for
12 days. Forty-two days after death more offerings are placed, at which
time it's believed the soul has fled the body.
The expense of a cremation ceremony can be
staggering. With hundreds of callers to feed, entertain, and keep supplied
with cigarettes for as long as a week, a special gamelan ensemble
required, and priest's and assistant's fees, an elaborate mass cremation
can easily cost eight to 12 million rupiah. It takes RP2 million alone
to take down power lines so that cremation towers can pass underneath.
But for this spectacular send-off-the life goal of every Balinese-a family
is prepared to make sacrifices. One of the kings of southern Bali killed
in the mass suicide in Denpasar in 1906 wasn't officially cremated until
28 years after his death. Only then was the family at last able to accumulate
enough wealth to give him a proper departure befitting his high rank. Among
people of the lower castes, the extravagant cost has produced a tendency
to forget to open the grave of long-dead relatives and perform the overdue
cremation. Apparently, the risk of the deceased soul haunting the living,
requiring constant appeasement with offerings, just doesn't frighten the
survivors the way it used to.
The Procession
Days before the cremation, relatives "reawaken" the deceased
by opening the grave. The remains are cleaned and wrapped in a white sacral
cloth and taken to the cremation grounds to await the arrival of the coffin
containing the effigy, which takes the place of the actual bones. Bones
buried in unclean ground may never enter the family compound. On the morning
of the cremation, relatives and friends visit the house to pay their respects.
When all the guests have partaken of a lavish
banquet, the village kulkul is sounded to begin the final march
to the cremation grounds. Incited by the climactic rhythms of the gamelan,
members of the dead man's banjar rush into the home and lift the
corpse from its stretcher and hoist it, by way of an elaborate decorated
stairway (raren), onto a soaring decorated wood and bamboo tower
(bade) supported on a bamboo substructure. The tall bade
is a fantastic Christmas tree-like creation beautifully decorated with
tinsel, paper ornaments, flowers, glittering mirrors, and expensive fabrics.
Since height is considered holy, the higher the tower, the higher the rank
of the deceased. Towers for wealthy Ksatriya may attain heights of 20 or
more meters, though the pervasive power lines of the island mean the really
tall towers of the past are seldom seen today.
For the more elaborate funeral, such as one
for a prince, as many as three shifts of 100 men may be required to carry
the heavily decorated funeral tower in a tumultuous, seething parade for
two or three kilometers to the burning site. A venerable high priest may
ride in a sedan chair at the top of the tower, accompanying the mummy;
there may even be space provided in front for a small angklung orchestra.
The villagers line up, each with something
to carry: holy water, ritual accessories, pyramids of food offerings piled
high on their heads. A single, smoothly flowing line of colorfully dressed
women leads the parade, carrying a long white cloth attached to the coffin;
this "towrope" symbolizes their assistance in transporting the
coffin. Men follow, carrying roasted quail and rabbits on sticks The procession
moves boisterously amid clouds of dust and fireworks, in an uproar of music,
yelling, and hooting, handfuls of old Chinese coins scattered at the participants'
feet. It's important the parade be bustling, crowded, and noisy-this shows
the funeral has achieved large-scale public recognition. Chaos reigns especially
around the tower, as relatives struggle to carry the body, each striving
to prove loyalty to the deceased. The tower is spun on top of the bearers'
shoulders to confuse the soul and prevent it from finding its way back
to its house, where it might make mischief for the living. Since evil spirits
may be following, seeking to pilfer the soul, the procession might cross
a stream, because spirits hate to get their feet wet, or zigzag down the
main street, to confuse the corner-impaired creatures. Finally, the near-stampede
streams onto the cremation grounds.
The Burning
The cremation grounds are usually located near the temple of the dead
in the cemetery just outside the village. In the center of the grounds
stands an animal-shaped sarcophagus, the appropriate figure determined
by the caste of the deceased: a bull for a Brahman male, a cow for a Brahman
woman, a winged lion for the Ksatriya class, a mythological half-elephant,
half-fish (gadjamina) for a lower-class Sudra. Once hewn of tree
trunks, these coffins are now constructed of bamboo and plaster. Access
is gained through a lid in the back. The entire coffin is draped with velvet
or other expensive cloth and decorated with goldleaf, silk scarves, and
cotton wool. Sometimes the Balinese rig the bull-shaped sarcophagus so
its sexual organs become distended and red with blood when someone pulls
a hidden string.
When the cremation tower reaches the burning
site, a lengthy white shroud (kajang) is attached to the body. Held
over everyone's heads, the corpse is led by the kajang down from
the tower and placed inside the coffin. The fragile, pagodalike tower,
no longer of any use, is tipped over and stripped of all valuables. A sea
of fingers then passes ritual items up to be placed on the coffin. Family
members huddle together to take one last look at their loved one, then
a high priest climbs up on the platform to recite prayers over the body.
Pots of holy water are poured over the corpse, then shattered on the ground.
Hundreds of old Chinese coins are showered over the body as ransom to Yama,
the Lord of the Underworld. After all the precious materials are piled
on top, the high priest ignites the fuel under the pyre. In the span of
a few seconds, the splendid tower-coffin, offerings, decorations-is engulfed
in flames, hundreds of thousands of rupiah going up in smoke in one last
wild extravagant gesture. The Balinese believe that the soul is lifted
to heaven on the column of smoke.
Westerners find it curious how the Balinese
treat the body of a dead relative. While the soul is regarded as all-important,
the body is considered a foul, contaminated object to be dispensed with
at the first opportunity. At cremations men clobber burning bodies with
bamboo poles in order to break them up so they burn better. Corpses are
unceremoniously prodded by relatives who make raucous jokes, mocking the
body for not burning fast enough so they can all go home. As the fire subsides,
the pedanda climbs the elevated platform and utters a few mantra,
ringing a bell to hasten the soul's journey to heaven. The eldest son rakes
the ashes to make sure all the flesh is burned.
Water is poured over the embers, and children
are allowed to poke through the hot muddy ashes for coins and trinkets.
The white bone ash is carefully separated from the wood ash. Sometimes
the remaining, blackened bones are piled into a small mound, then placed
in a clay vessel or coconut shell. Carried on a richly decorated sedan
chair, the ashes will eventually be borne in another disorderly, laughing
procession to the sea or to a nearby seagoing river, where they are set
adrift, finally freeing the soul. A small prahu is sometimes used
to carry ashes out past the reefs so they won't wash ashore.
This act represents the final purification
and disposal of the material body, the ultimate purification of the triple
cleansing cycle of earth, fire, and water. Later, there are private, often
quite elaborate ceremonies for the care of the soul. In these rites the
soul takes its rightful, honored place as one of the family ancestral deities
installed in a special shrine in the family temple. Twelve to 42 days after
the burning, offerings and powerful incantations are made on the soul's
behalf. Wealthier families even construct a second tower at this time,
nearly as elaborate as the cremation tower.
Attending a Cremation
Westerners are welcome to attend the cremation festivities, which may
last several days. The Balinese don't sell tickets to their cremations,
but they sell transport to the ceremonies. In tourist resorts you'll see
signs announcing the event, as well as the address and telephone number
of the transport agency. The local tourist office also knows when and where
cremations take place. Some don't need advertising: the 1993 funeral for
the last raja of Gianyar drew 50,000 people, almost two percent of the
total Balinese population. Wear a sash around the waist while attending
a cremation.