it begins with a funeral procession of the body to the Ganges river for a final bath in the sacred water (this sacred water is full of shit, piss, trash and industrial discharge). There is, literally, a line of dead bodies waiting to be burned at the ghats (ghat = riverside stairways). There are dozens of funeral pyres but since it takes a while for a body to completely burn, there is a queue.
There are men who tend the cremation fires, they are called "doms". They lay the fire wood down and then the family sets the deceased wrapped in white linen on top, a family member is given a burning brand to light the pyre.
you can tell how rich the deceased was by how many layers of colorful wrappings his corpse was wrapped in for the funeral procession and how much wood there is on the funeral pyre (the wood is sold by weight). sometimes the family will throw incense powder and other offerings on top of the body.
I watched a dead Indian man's tan face turn black, then shiny and glossy like a melted doll head as the fire slowly crept up, then charred black like charcoal, and then white as the skull was finally exposed.
Is there something beautiful about a burning corpse? the ragged outline of a charring body silhouetted against the orange and red flames...is it elegant? I don't know.
as the body burns down to the torso, the doms will take a long bamboo pole, bring it up to the 12 o'clock position and then whack the corpse. This is done to break up the torso, ribs and skull so it burns quicker.
Feet are a problem. they often stick out of the fire. A couple of times i watched an unsinged foot, with its charred shin bones sticking out, fall out of the fire and have to be shoved back into the pit by the doms.
i didn't see anybody crying, there were some sniffling and red eyes, but that could have been from the smoke and heat. there were no women there.
Watching the endless procession of bodies burn, i was waiting for some kind of epiphany insight, something. but nothing came. well, nothing original at least. I found the usual pessimistic and optimistic clicheisms about life to be completely unsatisfying. Yet i was unable to come up with my own witty and pithy insight. I am not a clever soul.
The kites! The answers are in the kites! I just have to figure out the kites.
Oh, what our lives are worth.
no pictures because cameras are not allowed at the burning ghat. foreigners with camera are met with hostility and lectures.
I love Paulo Coehlo novels, they are written for travel. But watching bodies burn and reading paulo coelho novels in India is a recipe for trouble. Add to that, the visit I made to the site of the buddha's first sermon and I am overwhelmed by volatile emotions and thoughts. poverty, life, death, karma, wealth, desire, health, meaning, happiness, sadness...what is all this?
so it goes.
On the lighter side of things: yesterday, I took my first real hot shower in two weeks and here is a picture of a (admittedly sad looking) puppy:
