This afternoon, at Dewa’s invitation, we went to a funeral ceremony at the house of Dewa’s relative. It was crowded, a little cramped, bustling with activity — people going around preparing offerings or food or other things, sitting, chatting and smoking — and was generally festive-feeling (if you didn’t know what was going on — or maybe even if you did). It felt like a big family gathering.
Earlier, Dewa explained to us that funerals in Bali are unlike those in the West (or in Hong Kong). There is no crying or outward grieving. The funeral is (partly) a religious ritual to prepare the spirit for its journey to the next world, to make offerings to the gods to look well on the spirit. So it’s also partly celebratory, since the spirit of the loved one will soon be journeying to their “true home” (hence no grieving: Dewa said if you grieve too piteously, the spirit of your loved one may not be able to tear themselves away). He told us to be casual, pleasant, to just act normal and even joke around a bit.
Cudamani musicians were there playing a set of sacred music to accompany a mask dancer/singer, who donned a range of masks representing different characters, dancing hypnotically and speaking and singing to the gods (and also to the rest of us). His voice was sonorous and otherworldly. But again, the “performance” wasn’t somber (serious, but not somber): the dancer even joked around with some of the Cudamani players while in character.
The ceremony continued the next day with the cremation.
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