The greater metropolitan area of Ubud (I never imagined I’d write those words five years ago), along with villages around the island, sees this annual tradition get under way, through the peak season of July and August, as a slew of banjars hold their communal cremation ceremonies.
After weeks of preparations, cleansing, prayer, meditation, and consultations with the priest (and his wife); when my landlord becomes unreachable, when the neighborhood laundromat remains indefinitely closed, and when the local men step out in sunshades and matching outfits – including festive sarong duos and dark t-shirts with the word “Cremation” emblazoned on the front – it’s clear that the festivities are about to begin.
Cremations are a visual and auditory feast; with lavishly decorated offerings piled high, processions of sarongs and kebayas in every color under the sun – all to the accompaniment of a chosen few locals reading out holy words over a public speaker system, the priest’s blessings, the puppet master’s knocks and antics, the Topeng dance performance, and the gong-heavy and tinkling sounds produced by the banjar’s gamelan groups. When everything strikes up simultaneously – so that it’s virtually impossible to follow any single activity – the onslaught on the senses is both exhilarating and dizzying.
But so is it a smelly affair, if you find yourself downwind from the intense heat and stench of burning flesh and bones. The corpses, unearthed early in the morning, are shrouded in white sacred cloth and queued up for a burning by… powerful jets spewing out of kerosene burners. At both ends.
Later in the day, when the effigies, offerings, clothing, paper replicas of objects held dear by (or representing) the deceased and other chosen personal items have all been blessed by the priest’s assistants and placed inside the buffalo-sarcophagi, the whole lot of them are engulfed, almost at once, in flames, shooting plumes of smoke and ash skyward, and into the crowds gathered.
This ceremony, an affair that as usual may stretch into weeks if not months, has not yet wrapped up. Two weeks later, the villagers are scheduled to accompany the last of the ashes and offerings to the beach, for a final release of the deceased’s soul to a higher realm and possible reincarnation.
In the busy-ness of daily life in Ubud, it takes a village, a cremation and the unwavering locus of its spiritual life, to coax me into a slower pace, set aside my work, Zumba classes, morning swim, social life and adventures, and be grateful for life – and for the reminder of where in the world I really am.
More of my cremation photos right… here!