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- VOL. 4.1
Bun And Bahp
By Terrance Dillon Morin
“Never weep when a loved one dies. If you do, the spirit will have to swim through your tears.” This old Thai adage characterizes the festive atmosphere of ngarn sop, which translates as a “dead-bady celebration”. Although based on Brahmin rites, this pre-cremation ceremony is a Buddhist one. It is believed that there is no reason to be sad, since the departed is advancing along the great cycle of death and rebirth towards the ultimate plane of existence, the state of perfect peace.
Belief in reincarnation is essential to the
Thai perception of life and religion, which maintains that an individual’s
material existence is determined by a spiritual balance of all of his or her
good and bad actions – one’s karma. The course of existence, in this life
and the next, can be changed by making merit. Due to the importance of these
rites of passage from one life to another, the celebration is as elaborate
as the deceased’s relatives and friends can afford.
Khun Luk Apinchan was so respected and loved by the locals that he was once
given the privilege of greeting the King during the monarch’s visit to
Phuket. At 102 years of age, Khun Luk began to make plans for his final
departure. He asked his family to buy him a white shirt and sarong, as well
as a new pair of shoes. His favourite monks, including his son, were then
asked to perform specific functions during the eleven days between his death
and his cremation.
The end of this gentle centenarian’s life finally came painlessly in the
night. His corpse was bathed and powdered, dressed in his new clothes and
laid out on a mat with his head pointing towards the west, since the setting
sun symbolizes death. A cloth covered the body, leaving only his head and
right hand exposed. Relatives and friends, dressed in simple black, lined up
to bless the departed soul by pouring water over his hand and asking
forgiveness for past wrongs.
A one-baht coin is normally placed in the mouth, at these ceremonies. Khun
Luk had his put in his pocket. Some say this is a reminder that you can’t
take material possessions with you; others claim it is insurance for
prosperity in the next life. There are two things that do accompany a soul,
however – bun and bahp: merit and sins.
An undertaker administered embalming fluid and the corpse was placed in a
coffin adorned with flowers and the deceased’s photograph. The body is never
left unattended during the ngarn sop; and monks came in the mornings for
food, returning each evening to chant. Awnings, tables and folding chairs
were furnished for the nightly vigil of friends and relatives. Visitors
helped family members to prepare the funeral feasts and made merit by giving
money to the family. By custom, the occasion was festive in tone – dinner
was provided for all; mini-bars were set up; and games of chance entertained
the crowds until late in the night.
On the eleventh day, after a generous lunch, friends and relatives took
turns posing stiffly for photographs in front of the deceased. The coffin
was carried out feet first. This was performed by a clamorous group of men
whose faces were smeared with charcoal and streaked with powder. Their
function, aided by liberal doses of Mekong whiskey, was to discourage Koon
Luk’s phi, or spirit, from returning home. Beating small branches against
the coffin, they splashed water and yelled out raucous warning or feigned
wails of mourning.
A pair of monks held a sacred cord attached to the coffin, one of them being
the highest-ranking Buddhist priest on Phuket. He left behind a trail of
dried flowers to lead the procession to the wat.
Monks rarely appear in even numbers because they believe it is bad luck. The
“feet-first” exit and even numbers were symbolic negations of the worlds of
the living to encourage the phi to continue its journey and not linger.
Family members led the procession, carrying a picture of the deceased and a
container for his remains. Behind came monks walking in pairs, then the men
of the village followed by the women and children. Rice was scattered to
placate the phis, which are generally attracted to funeral activities.
On arriving at the wat, the coffin was turned around three times to
symbolize the endless circle of life, death, and rebirth. The sacred cord
was passed inside the wat, which contained 102 monks who had arrived from
all over the island. After donning new saffron robes, which had been
received as gifts from the family, the monks knelt and prayed for the
departed. Then they chanted the Suadnitcha, a mournful dirge which tells of
the inevitability of suffering and death.
When the chant was completed, the monks boarded buses and returned to their
respective wats. The coffin, followed by a queue of immediate relatives and
friends, was carried to the wat crematorium and blessed with coconut water,
considered the purest of liquids. The gala atmosphere of the previous 11
days suddenly took on a somber tone as one of the family broke into tears.
The coffin was slid into the oven and the pyre was lit with folded-paper
prayer offerings. With his body consumed by the flames, Khun Luk’s spirit
journey had begun.
Such acceptance of human mortality often seems all but lost in our
contemporary life. During the 11 days of ngarn sop, over 1000 people
attended. Each person knew that he or she would end the same way and found
comfort in being able to grow accustomed in life to the fact of one’s own
death. Death rituals are a useful reminder of our own mortality. They also
allow people to connect with the spirit and are a reminder that everyone
must go from this earth even as they came.
This attests to the universality of the experience: just as the Thais do,
the Mohave Indians of Arizona say that tears weight the spirit down and make
the voyage into the after life difficult.