A Reflection on Death in Life

By Eleanor D. Hamilton, Ph.D

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2006 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Hamilton, Eleanor D. "A Reflection on Death in Life." Quest  94.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2006):53-54.

A current article, by Ravi Ravindra, on his "Twenty-Year conversation with J. Krisnamurti," (Ravindra 2004) called to mind a recent trip to India, particularly to Varanasi. The experiences shared by Ravindra with Krishnaji were touching and profound, especially the time where Krishnaji speaks about the concept of "dying while..living (Ravindra 2004)." To me the article spoke of what Buddhists call letting-go of grasping (attachments to things, ideas and beliefs), that which Krishnaji referred to as " collections—material, psychological, religious." Krishnaji went on to say that "if you can die to all that, then you'll find out what there is after death (Ravindra 2004)."

A recent trip to Varanasi (also known as Kashi—the city of light, the city of Shiva and Banaras) allowed me time to visit the Ghats (stone step entrances) on the Ganges River (or 'Mother Ganga' as she is fondly known by many Hindus). This sacred space affords one time to ponder the questions of life, devotion, death and death in life. It is like no other place one can imagine for such a reflection.

My husband and I were fortunate to be there during the prelude to and celebration of Shiva Ratri, the Hindu sacred holiday that honors the marriage of the Deity Shiva to the goddess Parvati his consort. During our visit we witnessed many pilgrims arriving from all over India to participate in this holiday. We were blessed with a delightful guide to introduce us to the Ganges and its wonders. (Usually we sought the help of guides when arriving into a city to help us become oriented. In this way we were able to make the best use of our time in each place.) Our guide, Devesh Kumar Agarwal, welcomed us to Varanasi, took us on a brief tour in the afternoon and noticed that we were tired from traveling that morning, so he suggested we rest in the afternoon. He also asked if we would like to attend the closing ceremonies at the Ganges that evening, when they 'put the river to sleep' in his words. We both immediately said, "Yes."

Devesh arrived at the appointed time and brought us to the river at Dasaswamedh Ghat (a popular ghat that was filled with people coming and going). We had seen hordes of beggars in Delhi-our first stop on this journey. All along the road to the ghat we saw many more beggars, merchants, Sadhus (holy men) and others. Devesh found one rowboat with an oarsman to ferry us up and down the river. Before embarking we were each given a small dish made of pressed leaves with a small candle surrounded with marigolds. After we were on the water, each candle was lit and we were told that we could float the dish in the water as a prayer, in whatever way we chose. When my candle hit the water, for some reason, unknown to me at the time, I prayed that I would be blessed with a return trip to the Ganges. This act transported me immediately into the sacred space of this amazing river. I looked at my husband, Bill, and his eyes were teary. He was deeply moved by the realization of his dream to visit this holy place. This was a sacred instant that will always be among my most treasured memories.

The oarsman rowed in the direction of the famous Manikarnika Ghat, one of the two burning ghats on the river. At these ghats, Manikarnika and Harischandra, funeral pyres are burning 24 hours a day, seven days a week, non-stop. Our first glimpse of Manikarnika was just before sundown. One could see smoke arising from the ghat from a distance in the boat. We approached as close as possible, but the traffic in the water kept us at a distance.

Then the oarsman turned the boat around and we circled back towards Dasaswamedh Ghat. At this time, the sun hung low on the western horizon like a beautiful, glowing orange disc against a smog-filled blue sky. The priests at the waterfront had begun their ritual with chanting, prayers and burning of ceremonial lamps of different kinds. All of these parts of the ritual are expressions of great devotion to this holiest of Hindu rivers. These ceremonies take place in the morning and evening seven days a week all year round. We sat mesmerized as the Hindu priests paid homage to "Mother Ganga." After the evening observance was over, we came to shore, disembarked and joined thousands walking up the steps and up the road to a place where we found a bicycle rickshaw and driver.

Before dawn the next day we met Devesh and he led us to the river as before. As we walked on the road to the Dasaswamedh Ghat, he told us that there was a rowboat near us the previous evening that was filled with 27 people. (We had four in our boat, and could perhaps have handled five or six more, but these boats do not have all that much room.) The boat, overloaded with people, tipped over and everyone went overboard. By that morning eleven people were found dead and thirteen were missing. The whole city of Varanasi was shocked by so great a tragedy, although we learned that people drown in the river all the time. (There are no life jackets or rules for how many people can fit into one boat.) As we embarked, we saw a place by the shore where police had set-up a base to monitor the recovery operation. Many relatives of those missing gathered by the river awaiting some news about their loved ones.

Our boat set sail in the direction of the Harischandra burning ghat. We learned that Harischandra has a new, modern crematorium that we could see from the boat. Funeral pyres were burning there as well. Although there is a crematorium available, people tend to prefer the traditional wood pyre. Wood is brought into the burning ghats from distant forests at great expense. Those who oversee the funeral process at the river are from a class of people formerly known as untouchables called Doms. The Doms make sure the wood is obtained, supervise the building of the pyres, the burning of the fires, collect fees from the families and provide support for other needs the of relatives during the ritual according to tradition.

For Hindus to die in Varanasi is the highest achievement. To die here guarantees the soul moksha, or release from the cycle of birth and death. Many come here just to die. Some come when they know they are going to die and stay at a hospice-like residence beside the river, where they are tended in the dying process. When Hindus die in this city, the bodies are prepared, wrapped in fabric (color according to status and gender, i.e. white for males, gold cloth for Brahman males, red for women, white for men) and carried through the streets on bamboo stretchers to the burning ghats for cremation. Those with communicable diseases, pregnant women and infants are interred directly into the river without cremation, as are dead animals. While in the boat one could view those wrapped corpses and bloated cow carcasses as they floated by.

We were told that sewage and industrial waste are also dumped into the Ganges, a situation that has many in the region concerned. In the midst of all this death, as we sailed back toward Dasaswamedh Ghat, we could see signs of life everywhere. About two million people call this city of Shiva home and hundreds of people were already out taking their ritual bath in the river. Some were swimming, washing their clothes, washing livestock and even drinking this water that may be some of the most septic in the world. Yet, it does not seem to harm those who do bathe, swim and drink. In fact, people claim that these waters have healing properties.

In addition to the bathers and swimmers, other daily activities were underway: vendors selling food, drink, flowers or clothing. Sadhus were performing yoga, barbers were shaving men with straight razors, masseuses were giving body massages out in the open, right on the steps. As we reached Dasaswamedh, we witnessed the morning ritual chanting and pujas (fire offerings) that were also impressive.

Having had a small taste of life on Mother Ganga, we decided that we would spend an extended period of time quietly becoming participant observers of life on the river. Sometimes together and also alone we allowed events to unfold. At first we watched with a group of Muslims gathered to wait for news of recovered relatives' bodies. Apparently all of those in the boat of 27 that overturned were Muslims. A young Hindu man named Krishna approached us and spoke in a compassionate way about the losses of those gathered. It was gratifying to see that sharing sadness over tragedy can transcend religious differences in a country where Hindus and Muslims have had much conflict and strife over the years.

I wandered down the river toward the Marnikarnika burning ghat. On the way I sat down in the shade to enjoy the balmy river breeze and see what would happen. In the distance a boat filled with Hindu pilgrims arrived (to attend Shiva Ratri) and they disembarked not far from my resting place. Sitting close by were a man and his son. The man was serving his son lunch from a pot on the steps. A family from the boat of pilgrims arrived and insisted that the man feed them. He did so in a very gracious manner. The family behaved in a very rude, demanding manner, but the man who fed them did not seem to be affected by their behavior and was always a gracious host.

My next stop was right at Manikarnika. Not far away it was possible to see a number of burning funeral pyres. One of the Doms approached me and encouraged me to come to a nearby building where one could get a closer look at the pyres. He also pointed-out a building that served as a kind of hospice for those waiting to die. These hospice-like buildings are for those who come to die. In order to stay in the hospice buildings, a person must be near death and believe in the possibility of liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth (Eck 1999). Usually the length of stay is about 15 days, but it can be longer with special permission (Eck 1999). The reason that liberation is guaranteed to all who come to this city (and all living things like animals, insects etc.) is that Yama, the god of death, is not permitted in this city according to Hindu belief.

After giving the Dom a donation, my journey continued in the opposite direction toward Harischandra Ghat, the other burning ghat and the oldest in the city. On the way a large herd of water buffalo crossed my path after a bath in the river. It was rather an amazing sight to see the way the buffalo and the herders negotiated the steps of the ghats out of the river.

Following my arrival at the Harischandra Ghat, I stood silently watching one family bring their loved one to the funeral pyre. Those present were all male because women are not permitted to attend cremations for fear that they will engage in sati (to jump on the burning fire to join their loved one in death). The body was lowered into the Ganges and then placed on the wood pyre. The chief mourner, usually the oldest son (Eck 1999), emerged from the group and then had his head shaved. He was taken to change into a white dhoti (a pantaloon-like garment worn by Hindu men for which Mahatma Gandhi became famous) and white upper garment. He was then given a torch of holy Kusha grass, and led to the place where an eternal flame was burning to light the torch. Upon his return to the pyre, he circled the pyre five times counterclockwise, symbolizing that "everything is backward at the time of death," (Eck 1999) and then lit the fire. The dead thus become an offering to Agni, the god of fire (Eck 1999). The Dom in attendance poured ghi (a liquid form of purified butter) on the fire and it burned very hot and raged. This Dom then threw ground sandalwood on the fire. It is said that the burning bodies do not smell, because the sandalwood dust covers the odor of cremation.

Another Dom then approached me and asked my name. After introductions, he told me that he was in charge of this ghat. We watched as the pyre burned hotter, consuming the wood and the body. The Dom called my attention to the son who had a large bamboo pole as he approached the pyre we had been observing. The son shoved the pole into the fire and cracked open the charred skull of the body, exposing the brain to view. This rite is "called kapalakriya', the rite of the skull" (Eck 1999). At this moment, the soul of the deceased was released into moksha, (liberation from the cycle of rebirth and death). It is believed that the skull must be cracked open in order to liberate the soul from the body. The son then took a large clay pot of water from the Ganges and threw it backward over his left shoulder on the fire as it died down. The son walked away and did not look back. Weeping was not done publicly because it is said that weeping causes suffering for the deceased. The Dom said that the family will conduct rites for their lost loved one for eleven days, making offerings to support the transport of the soul to the other shore and the heavens where ancestors dwell. By the twelfth day the soul of the deceased is believed to unite with the ancestors.

To my amazement, there was nothing gory about this way of death—in fact it all seemed to make great sense. At this time, death was palpable to the family and all of us who were gathered with respect. Yet it was such a natural part of the life cycle. Hindus believe that "death is not the opposite of life," but rather is the "opposite of birth (Eck 1999)."

For some reason I found myself feeling right at home at the burning ghats while being reminded of my own mortality. Someday the shore of transition will become my destination. According to my own Buddhist path it felt congruent with my belief in reincarnation from past lives. There was no doubt that this place was familiar to me. It was possible to imagine myself on such a funeral pyre in the past or in some now unknown future. My soul also resonates with the longing for liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth. The practice of the Dharma path is my attempt to prepare myself for this soul passage by teaching me to let go of my own "collections—material, psychological, religious," so named by Krishnaji (Ravindra 2004).

The opportunity to participate in this approach to a natural letting-go in death, caused me to ponder the way we deal with death in the West. The dying are frequently removed from view in hospitals or nursing homes, isolated, tied to machines and tubes, where they are emotionally or physically abandoned by families, friends and caretakers who have no way to help them deal with dying. Although the Hospice movement has made some inroads in helping people die in meaningful ways, generally fear and avoidance permeate the way of death in the United States. How different is the passage of the deceased through these powerful ceremonies at the Ganges compared to being a corpse in a funeral home where the life-blood is drained from the body. Morticians inject embalming fluid into the body and make every attempt to have the corpse look "life-like." A corpse made to look "life-like" constitutes another form of denial. In Kashi loving families tend the dying and dead throughout each phase of the process. "Kashi promises much more than a good life. This city promises a good death (Eck 1999)."

What a great a privilege it was to join in the soul transit of others at Mother Ganga. While only a distant witness, the events had a way of becoming a major part of my own soul's preparation. Dying and death in India are lovingly approached and tenderly attended by devoted supporters in tangible, meaningful rituals at the banks of the Ganges (and in other parts of India as well). With regard to Kashi, (Varanasi/Banaras) Diana Eck observes:

"The procession of life includes the procession of death. Here death is not denied. Perhaps that is why they can say that death is not feared, but welcomed as a long-awaited guest." She continues: "For over 2,500 years, the people of India have come to this place, which they have described as both the Great Cremation Ground and the Forest of Bliss. Here they have build temples and ashrams, palaces and homes, schools and businesses, transforming the ancient groves and pools of the yakshas (ancient female and male gods) and nagas (serpent gods said to dwell in water) into one of the most awesome cities of the world. It is a city of wealth, exuberance and life. It is also a city of poverty, confusion, suffering and death. But the City of light, they say, extends one's vision across the river of life and death to the far shore of immortality. It is called Kashi, for here the light shines." (Eck 1999)

Varanasi (Kashi/Banaras) and the Ganges constitute the most poignant coniunctio (joining) of opposites—birth/death, suffering /liberation. Here these opposites are all around and are contained not only in powerful sacred rites and rituals, but also in the unfolding of daily life. To be a part of this incredible sphere of transcendence left this writer with a very deep sense of homecoming, and a grateful heart.

Endnotes

1. Ravindra, Ravi. "The Mill and the Millpond: A Twenty-Year Conversation With Krishamurti. The Quest. 92:3. May-June 2004. pp. 93-95.

2. . Eck, Diana. Banaras: City Of Light. New York, NY: Columbia University Press,1999

3. _______ Op. Cit. p.331

4. _______ Op. Cit. p. 331

5. _______ Op. Cit. p. 341

6. _______ Op. Cit. p. 341

7. _______ Op. Cit. p. 341

8. _______ Op. Cit. p. 343

    

9. Ravindra, R. Op. Cit pp. 93-95

10. Eck, D. Op. Cit. p. 343

11. ______ Op. Cit. p. 344