On the steps in front of Drigung Monastery, a dozen monks recite. Before them on the patio flagstones mendacity a body, wrapped in fair cloth, which was passed in on a stretcher an hour ago. The monks are praying for a strength that once organize here, but now is emancipated from its previous home. It is the third such visitor nowadays, for Drigung Gonpa has a profitable but shocking specialty: disposal of the numb.
My team and I arrived here last night, after a long day's hammer from Lhasa to Meldor Gungkar County in Central Tibet. Drigung monastery is on a steep mound, overlooking our camp. Above the holy dense is a locate for "sky funeral," a designate gist disposal of a corpse by allowing it to be devoured by birds. The birds, which are summoned by infuriate and valued by Tibetans, cast their dung on the high peaks. Sky-burial is expert all over the level, but Drigung is one of the three most notorious and auspicious sites.
After the chanting is over, we stroll up a well-firmed direction to a high crinkle, care a respectful aloofness behind the funeral bash, which has come all the way from Lhasa to discharge this ultimate function to their departed alone. The charnel ground, or durtro, consists of a large fenced pasture with a couple of temples and a large gemstone enclose of stones at one end where the ceremony takes place. Prayer flags plummet from numerous chortens, and bouquet of smoldering juniper purifies the air. Vultures group overhead, and many more are clustered on the lawn, a few meters from the funeral bier.
Tibetans rehearsal several forms of disposal of the inert, but sky burial is the most common practice and actually a very applied one in a land where fuel is scarce and the earth is regularly too hard to dig. For me, this is an extraordinary opportunity, for the existence not one visitor in five hundred is privileged to witness the ceremony I'm about to see. Nevertheless I am apprehensive, too, wondering how I will stomach the glimpse of ruin.
Men in long pallid aprons come out, and unpack the corpse, which is naked, stiff, and swollen. The men presume mammoth cleavers, which are in a few strokes whetted to razor serration on adjacent rocks. The positive sun and cloudless sapphire sky strew rather my ominous sensation. The coroners themselves, are not profound or ceremonial, but completely businesslike as they chat amongst themselves, and practice to father.
Tibetans consider that, more important than the body, is the heart of the deceased. Following collapse, the body should not be touched for three being, excepting probably at the crown of the rule, through which the consciousness, or namshe, exits. Lamas pilot the strength in a string of prayers that last for seven weeks, as the role makes their way through the bardo--intermediate states that precede renewal.
As the first cut is made, the vultures crowd closer; but three men with long firewood wave them away. Within a the summary the over man's organs are removed and set sideways for later, isolated disposal. The vultures try to move in and are banned by waving sticks and shouts. Then, the cutters give a gesture and the men all simultaneously fall back. The gather rushes in, covering the body completely, their heads disappearing as they bend down to tear away bits of flesh. They are colossal birds, with wings spanning more than 2 meters, top-feathers of muddy fair, and giant drab-auburn backs. Their heads are nearly featherless, so as not to encumber the bird when feat into a body to nourish.
For thirteen report the vultures are in a feeding whirl. The only sound is tearing flesh and chittering as they compete for the best bits. The birds are regularly sated, and some take to the air, their giant wings sounding like steam locomotives as they panic overhead. Now the men damage out what skeleton of the corpse--only a bloody skeleton--and shoo away the remaining birds. They take out vast mallets, and set to work thumping the bones. The men parley while they work, even laughing sometimes, for according to Tibetan belief the mortal remainder are simply a pointless vessel. The flat man's will is left, its fatality to be definite by karma accumulated through all forgotten lives.
The bones are shortly condensed to splinter, mixed with barley flour and then unnerved to crow and hawks, who have been waiting their outing. Remaining vultures grab slabs of softened gristle and stingily devour them. Half an hour later, the body has completely disappeared. The men depart also, their day's work glossed. Soon, the brow is restored to calmness. I think of the man whose flesh is now tall over the mountains, and settle that, if I ensue to die on the high upland, I wouldn't heed following him.
Note: at the demand of the people participating in the funeral, no photos were full
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