What is Life?
Life is Love. Enjoy it.
Life is Beauty. Praise it.
Life is Spirit. Realise it.
Life is Song. Sing it.
Life is a Mystery. Unfold it.
Life is a Challenge. Meet it.
Life is a Goal. Achieve it.
Life is an Adventure. Dare it.
Life is a Sorrow. Overcome it.
Life is a Tragedy. Face it.
Life is a Game. Play it.
Life is a Duty. Perform it.
Life is an Opportunity. Take it.
Life is a Struggle. Fight it.
Life is a Journey. Complete it.
Life is a Puzzle. Solve it.
Life is a Promise. Fulfil it.
"
— from Hindu Scriptures
This occasion is a sad occasion for me as it marks the passing of life in a Hindu Balinese way. Perhaps the words entered here will be a little distressing to those that are unaware as to Hindu cultures and practices here on Bali the Paradise Isle.
In an earlier post I referred to the customs and traditions of the indigenous people of Lake Batur, but in this post I can report on the passing of of life for the regular, if you like more enlightened people of downtown Bali.
When I came to Bali on my quest to escape the doom and gloom which surrounds the west and its western economies, I came with the full intention to immerse myself in a way of life far different from my own. To do this I had to embed myself into a local culture, whilst I build my new life, career and business thus securing my future for the coming years. I am convinced of my passion as without it you can achieve nothing, I am convinced of my need to understand all things Indonesian as without it you can not plot your way forward as the hurdles will exist everywhere. Perhaps such a statement is true of life anywhere.
I digress, in short to achieve the goals set out above I have immersed my self in a community here in central Denpasar, far away from the glitz and glamour that has encompassed the resort areas that surround this magical Island. For my home is a rented local house deep within a community accessed only by a rabbit warren of side roads. To access my home I have to pass many warungs small intimate roadside cafe's (café used in the loosest term) all suitably frequented by many local communities and in some cases vast family dynasties.
To live here you begin to realise the joys of life and the contentment that co-exists with the trappings of the western cultures. For to live here you realise just how narrow minded we are in the west when it comes to the material needs for our mere existence.
For here you quickly realise that children are free to roam at will around vast labyrinths of roads, dipping in and out of communities as they explore in their extended groups. climbing in and out of storm drains, playing on motorbikes, building kites from plastic bags and old sticks, for they are free and I am sure more enriched as a result. There is no risk of abduction that we believe is prevalent in the west, their is no need to harness the free spirit of a child infancy for they are free to explore, to broaden their horizons, to experience all that their young lives have to offer, for they are not riddled or burdened by the trappings of wealth, by the possessions of their neighbours, they do not hanker for the latest iphone or the bike with 40 gears, for they make there own enjoyment, which is how it should be.
I am still far from the point of this blog as it is with some sadness that I have embarked on these tombs. During the early weeks of my immersion in this community, I was of course greeted with some surprise as the only Buleh (European/westerner) in the quarter and I would get as I passed their various posts many inquiring looks and surprised expressions. However, I persevered duly waving from the comfort of my ac controlled car as I bumped along the cobbles in front of the warungs. Over time I was greeted with cheery waves form the sitting community. I remember during those days that one gentlemen in particular always gave me a great sense of amusement as he would always greet me with a surprise inquiring look which over time became a cheery wave as I passed by his wall side concrete seat. All to often this gentleman would be stumbling from the warung back to his Balinese quarter, he was clearly elderly and clearly had some difficulty to walk. But he always found a way to greet me in the most courteous way for which I am grateful.
To cut a long story short, On one morning I took an early trip out and on my return there were a number of motor bikes outside his home. My immediate reaction was that he had died, which came to pass as being true as he had indeed died that morning at the local hospital. Shortly afterwards his body was returned to the family home for the Hindu spiritual blessings and ceremonies to begin.
For my understanding he was laid on a bed of Ice, dry or wet whilst a suitable day is found on the Hindu calender making for the appropriate passing to the next world. As it happened the day was marked as the following Monday which meant a four day lay in wait at the home of his family community.
Here the the gatherings begin as the community must gather around the family and stand in guard over the body for the course of the next four days. So over the next four days the entire community would gather together and form a rotor as to who and how many would be at the bed side. As you can imagine this amounted to several hundred people. What I noticed for good or for bad and I think perhaps good, is that as the days passed the event became more happier, by the fourth day it was no longer the solemn event that prevailed over the previous Friday. Great teams of people sat and kept watch throughout the days an nights as they waited for the appropriate day. They played cards throughout the night, they chatted and ultimately they laughed, is there any better way to help a family grieve that this.
By the fourth day the body was placed on a colourful makeshift alter, made from Bamboo and draped in silk the bed was of a thin mattress covered in white cloth over the body was a bamboo roof. the body then sits about 1.5 metres above a larger bamboo raft about 2 mtrs * 2 mtrs. the raft is then elevated by several pall bearers who the march the body to the nearest cemetery, there is no privacy in the death.
On arrival at the steel gate of the cemetery the body is then taken in still on its bamboo alter. It should be said that this cemetery does not resemble a cemetery as we would know it as it has no bodies incarcerated within it, for it is just a green piece of scrub land. the chariot is then placed upon more bamboo.
Here the ceremony begins as it is considered that the body must be returned to the elements of the universe and so the the framework is then set alight and the structure along with the body is cremated.
Hindu funerals in Bali are intense ceremonies, exhibiting great
cultural and religious significance. The chariot is an elaborate vessel and
characterized by a large following, the funeral is centered on cremation
of the body, known as ngaben or pelebon.
It is considered through this practice known as essentig i.e. the 5 elements making up the microcosm of the
human body are to be returned to their original residence, the
universe's macrocosm.
The five elements: Panca Maha Bhuta, are
the earth (pertivvi), water (apah), fire (teja), air (bayu), and ether
(akasa). Since the primordial dimension can only be attained through
water and fire, the ashes are dispersed in the waters of the sea or if
the distance is too great, in a river.
The funeral ceremony is
generally led by a priest and punctuated by a lavish offering of gifts.
For the occasion, a large bullock-shaped wooden structure is built and
then entirely covered with white drapes if the deceased belongs to a
priestly caste; in black, if not.
The ashes are then collected and the ceremony moves towards the sea where the ashes are returned to the Universe, for the afterlife to begin.
A fitting end to a great person.
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