Cremation

Cremation

“Here on the Bagmati river in Kathmandu, we cleanse and cremate our dead,” my guide, Prachanda, tells me. I count ten pyres on the other side of the muddy river. On one of the pyres, smoke rises from a freshly lit pile of wood and rice grass. On another, a man stokes the crumbling remains of a fire. And on a third, a man sweeps the ashes into the river. Behind another pyre, stacked with fresh lumber, lies a body on a stretcher wrapped in a bright yellow shroud. “It takes three hours to cremate a body,” Prachanda says. “Is it okay to take pictures?” I ask. Prachanda nods his approval and I snap away. “Beyond the bridge is where they cleanse the bodies.” There, a woman and a boy scoop water out of the river and wash it over a cement slab that runs down the concrete steps into the water. Above, a yellow clad corpse lies on a stretcher surrounded by a small gathering of mostly men who look clueless as to what they are suppose to do. Passers-by show no interest as they go about their routines. After considerable hesitation, three of the men lift the body off the stretcher and lay it on the cement slab so the feet barely touch the water. One of the men cuts away the shroud from the face while another cuts the clothe from her feet. It’s a woman. I’m sure. A group of excited school children pass behind the scene without taking notice. Four or five men now care for the body. With their hands, they scoop water out of the muddy river and rub it over the woman’s face and feet. “This is an important part of the purification process — to drink from the Bagmati before being cremated. Each family develops its own ritual.” Three of the men take the body back to the stretcher. One of them puts a garland around her neck and another sprinkles red dust on her shroud. They then proceed to the cremation pyre.