About Death
How do you see death? What does it mean to you?
Death is the only certainty in life, together with change. Yet for many (including some in my surroundings), it remains a taboo—a topic avoided, regarded as heavy and delicate, often linked with strong emotions, loss, tears, and feelings of emptiness.
I went to Bali in the summer of 2023 to learn more about the world of freediving, but due to an injury (everything happens for a reason), I explored an unexpected side of the local culture.
As a curious mind and with time in my hands for not being able to attend training, in my last two weeks on the Island of Nusa Penida, I connected with Nyoman - a Balinese responsible for the tourism institution in Penida. I sent him a text, introducing me and asking if he would have time to introduce me to the Hindu traditions and lifestyle: the meaning of the temples, the ceremonies (as a tourist, you only see traces of it without fully understanding or immersing in it) and the Island in general.
His response came fast, already inviting me to join him and his family in Nusa Lembongan (a nearby Island where he was raised) for a cremation ceremony that was taking place the next day. Without hesitation, I accepted the invitation.
The following day, at 6 a.m., he and his wife welcomed me into their home (a few steps from my homestay). They found me a "sari", and off we went on our motorbikes to the harbour to catch the boat to Nusa Lembongan.
As we arrived at Nyoman's parents' home, breakfast was already being served—rice, fish, and chicken prepared for any relative or guest who came. The air was filled with conversation and laughter. Unlike the sombre tone of funerals I was familiar with, or those often depicted in Hollywood movies, there was a lightness, a sense of togetherness.
His family welcomed me with open arms. Even though we didn’t speak the same language, the exchange of smiles bounded us. Soon, we were gathered on the porch, a steady flow of relatives arriving, greeting each other warmly. Across the street, preparations for the day were in full swing. It was the seventh day of their ritual, and while the activities appeared casual to an outsider, everything had a purpose rooted in tradition.
In Bali, the Ngaben or Pitra Yadnya is the traditional Hindu cremation ceremony, one of the most important rituals in the passage of a soul.
Through the sacred fire, the body is returned to its elemental state, releasing the spirit to continue its journey toward reincarnation or a peaceful afterlife. The ceremony spans several days, with different stages of purification, offerings, and blessings.
Some families can only afford to perform this ritual every few years, joining together with others to honour multiple deceased members in one larger, collective ceremony and thus sharing the costs. Wealthier families, however, may organise individual ceremonies. There are no rules per the ceremony's frequency; each family finds what they can do within their financial capabilities. But regardless of economic status, the depth of reverence remains the same.
Many of the days are spent in the company of the (extended) family, where the families organise a priest of trust to attend the days of the purification rituals, the cremation itself, and the closing ceremonies. On this day, the deceased's closest relatives organised baskets filled with photos, sweets, money and tokens designed to accompany the deceased on their next journey. A priest of their choice, who came from the main Island in Bali and had been related to the family for many years, was doing the rituals to purify the souls. Everyone was wearing white, incense burning and a calm atmosphere of sequenced rituals.
Eventually, I left while they continued with further procedures of the day.
I was lucky enough to join Nyoman again two days later, on the actual cremation day.
The day started early again. But this time, with all family members - sons, cousins, uncles. We all went on the boat to Lembongan and walked to where all the other families were also gathering. I can't recall precisely how many there were - at least seven families. And when I say family, I mean the ENTIRE family, all generations, all relatives, everyone gathers together. Each family has a "branding", a type of uniform where the members are easily recognisable. I won't lie; it did help me to stay with the pack and not lose myself in the multitude of people. It was a completely different scenario than two days prior.
Before the day, each family had constructed a festive type of float waiting on the sideline of the main street, gathering the men of each family - it somewhat reminded me of the carnival in Brazil, where each "school" with their floats and marching band waiting for their turn to perform. However, in this scenario, only men, dressed alike.
Even though on this day, the black colour was somewhat more present, if you didn't know, you wouldn't think the ceremony was related to death—positive energy was around, with loud music, smiles, and people getting ready for the "parade." And now it was our time to move…
The float construction, with a bamboo base, did not look light. It had a dragon on top, and the youngest and/or eldest family members sat above the structure, surveilling or playing music and guiding the group. The strong men of the family went to their positions, 1, 2, 3 and up, with the structure in their shoulders.
The first step of the "parade" is to confuse the spirits so they find their way to their next chapter and don't get lost on our plane. Thus, there is a frantic back-and-forth, moving the float repeatedly up and down the main street with loud music and euphoric screams. All of this is done under a 30C+ 11:00 a.m. sun. You could see the stream of sweat flowing in the faces of the men below the structure.
After the back-and-forth, the float was carried through the village, surrounded by the family, stopping to collect the bodies wrapped in cloth, with surrounding offerings representing the gifts to the gods for the safe passage of the spirit. The path to the cremation open site continued, where each family had a designated area to "park" it.
Once everything was set, they told us we had to wait. So we waited many hours. We had food at a street stand nearby, where they had set up for the event, and we lingered at a nearby bar. It was communicated to us (me and two other Europeans) that it would take many hours until the fire started, but eventually, we saw the smoke in the air and rushed our way back to the court where the ceremony took place. Most of the floats were already burned down, and the fire was already milder by the time we arrived, but everything was still in flames. Unfortunately, we missed the initial burning. But this is the crucial moment when the soul is believed to be released.
Once the fire had ceased and only ashes remained, male family members collected the ashes and, together with the women and other family members, prepared them in compartments for the following passages. A final ritual was held with the priests of each family to purify the remains.
This was the moment we (visitors) had to leave the site; otherwise, we would lose our boat ride back home.
After we left, as Nusa Lembongan had a strong attachment to nature and the ocean, the ashes were set free in the sea in a more intimate ritual among the closest family members with boats and candles. As we couldn't be there, Nyoman shared videos of this moment of release with us.
This unique experience led me to gain another perspective on death.
As in the Hinduist tradition, life doesn't end with the death of a physical body. The Balinese face it with openness, joy, and acceptance, believing in other planes of existence beyond the visible. They embrace the impermanence of life, finding beauty in the cyclical nature of existence. Life is taken more at ease, with genuine happiness and kindness towards one another.
It was an experience that marked my existence and gave me a perspective I hadn't yet seen. It gave me the lightness to talk about the topic more openly in my personal surroundings and accept with more ease that death is the only thing we cannot change in life.
Death is not the end but simply the beginning of another unknown journey.
