FIRE JOURNEY TO HEAVEN

We attended a big (15 corpses) cremation ceremony recently. The ceremony is a purification rite to release the deceased souls from their earthly remains and send them on their way to heaven. It's a most colorful and dramatic celebration. So much going on, so much to see. Parasols. Streamers. Lots of spectators. Vendors selling cold drinks, toys, colorful cloths, and snacks like boiled bird eggs. Long processions of families of the deceased bearing mysterious offerings. Men carry what looks like small cribs and throw them in the fire. (I later learn that the cribs are the containers in which they carry the dug up bones from the cemetery to the waiting sarcophagi) The sarcophagi are like giant divas making their spectacular entrances. They're carried on a platform of tied-together bamboo poles, shouldered by shouting and sweaty men, and accompanied by a raucous gamelan of young men going all out, banging away on their gongs and drums. It's hot. It's deafening. The sarcophagi are mostly in the form of beautiful black bulls (of different sizes, according to the families' status and financial ability), but I did see one white bull and even a rearing red horse. Each bull has a rider on top who has to hold on for dear life as the men carrying the platform rock it up and down and sideways, turning it this way and that, noisy maneuvers intended to confuse the dead person's spirit so it will lose its earthly way back and not haunt the family. It's all done with much shouting and laughing and horse play.

At one point the fire department came in with a truck. Oh good, I thought, That's good planning. But they left before they even started the burning part of the ceremony. Guess, they're so accustomed to cremations in the city, they figure everybody knows what they're doing and it's all okay. Which it was.

I intended to stay for the whole ceremony but when the first bull sarcophagus was set on fire, the air filled with so much smoke (and that was just a small bull!) that I just wanted to get the hell out of there, leaving our friends Kendall, Jeremy and Fernando to record the rest of the festivities for me. Thanks, guys! They came back with their clothes and hair saturated with smoke and ash.

A couple of days later, I meet Pak Wayan, our electrician. He looks haggard. He has been preparing a cremation for two straight days without sleeping, he says. His 22 year-old niece had fallen ill and died. What takes a family months and months of preparation, he had to accomplish in two days. He did not even have time to notify some family members. But it was well worth it, he says. It will help his brother and sister-in-law with their grief, knowing that their daughter did not have to be buried and wait for the next cremation cycle, but could go straight to heaven instead. I send my best wishes for happy reunions with ancestors and divine teachers to the girl and the 15 souls that left for heaven that day. Om santi santi santi om.