Cremation
The last daughter of the king of Ubud had died recently, and the cremation was scheduled for July 26. This would be the largest cremation ceremony in the last 25 years. Near the Ubud palace, a giant funeral tower was being constructed along with a huge black paper bull that would hold the body while it was being carried to the death temple outside of town. The tower had the maximum, most sacred number of levels possible: 11. The paper effigy of a dragon, a “naga”, would also be carried in the procession to be burned along with the rest at the cremation site. Nagas were only reserved for the noblest individuals of royal birth.
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The area around the palace was alive with activity. Funerary offerings consisting of flowers, decorations made of palm leaves, pineapples, apples, rice, coconuts, even roasted ducks and baked baby pigs were piled into overflowing baskets, lining the booths along the main street to the north of the central square. Gamelan orchestras, with their gongs and xylophones in brightly colored cases, were everywhere. The funeral of such an important person requires many offerings, processions and rituals that require months, sometimes years to complete.
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But the most important (and accessible) public ritual is the cremation. The body would be taken out of the palace temple, wrapped in a white sheet and placed inside the black bull. Then the tower, bull and naga would be carried to the cremation grounds at the death temple, on the outskirts of town, to be burned. On the morning of the cremation the streets around the palace were packed. The trees had been trimmed and the power lines taken down to allow the brightly-colored, 30m-high tower to pass. Spectators poured in from the side streets and back alleys looking for good spots to watch the procession. We jockeyed for a spot along the route.
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After waiting for what seemed like ages, we started to hear the clanging of gongs and the tones of gamelan music as the procession worked its way up the street. First came the bull, supported by about fifty bearers, running forward in surges, then pausing to rest and to let the others catch up. A long banner ran from the tail of the bull to the approaching tower. When it finally hove into view, the site was awesome. The base, composed of an immense bamboo frame, was almost as wide as the street. There must have been over a hundred bearers, roaring in unison as they hoisted the heavy structure into the air and rushed forward. Several people stood on the moving platform, shouting directions into the crowd with megaphones. As the upper part of the tower careened drunkenly, the platform would lunge forward, sometimes knocking trees and street signs crooked, quickly cover a few meters of ground, then tilt unsteadily as the bearers paused to rest.
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Only a short distance could be covered before a new group of willing porters were required. After the tower, still following the long red banner, came the naga. The crowd roared with approval. When the procession passed, most of the onlookers joined the seething throng to tag along. The crowds made it impossible to approach the funeral grounds. It turned out to be difficult enough just to pick our way back to our hotel through the maze of parked motorbikes! The cremation itself, however, we missed because our watch was still on Java time. A week had gone by without even noticing the hour difference!
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