Bali’s high priests have stepped it up a few notches of late — in jewelery, showmanship and stamina.
As more and more Balinese opt for the higher utama form of ceremony, which require high priests, pedanda are these days busier criss-crossing the island at all hours. 14 of them went off to East Java last month, to re-consecrate a 14th Century Hindu-Javanese temple, the mighty Candi Penataran Brahman cremations are looking like ‘be-ins’ for holy fathers (and mothers) with often up to 20 high priests baying for position on the Veda platforms. The celebrity high priest Pedanda Gunung has a school of disciples, including fashion impresario Milo, whom he regularly leads on yatra to such far flung destinations as Mt. Kailash in Nepal. Pedanda Bang — a nabé class spiritual warrior (photo opposite page) last month ordained two new non-brahmana high priests from a Denpasar palace. These Bhagawan high-priests hit the white carpet running ― sending out BBM messages from golden smart-phones with blinking Ongkara (AUM) as their profile pics. As a group of spiritual seniors, the sulinggih of Bali runs rings around Rome’s College of Cardinals. Unlike their fierce Indian confreres, the Balinese pandita (pedanda) are kind and caring and given to gushing.
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I was fortunate enough to grow up in a
humble Brahman house, as an Aussie groupie in the 1970s. In my six
years there I was often in the company of pedanda to this day I
often seek out their company at events, partly because there’ always a
step to sit on in their special prayer pavilion, and partly because
they have the best gossips. Many are my old buddies from my Sanur hotel
guide days (during the 1970s, many of the first sons of Denpasar’s
first families worked in Housekeeping or Accounting at five star
hotels).
These days the first sons tend to work for the government or they run Harley Davidson dealerships or spiritual retreats. Schmoozing up to the high priests is also a way of escaping the boorishness that goes down in the princes’ pavilions at ceremonies — the incessant chick talk and gruesome tales of intra family-feuding — and the high priests get superior cake trays with Vuitton-look cozzies and faux-Wedgewood teapots. Pedanda are only allowed to do five prayer sessions a day — something to do with the spiritual batteries I guess — which range from 2 – 3 hours, so there is little down time. Vacations are spent on caring for Java or shopping in Singapore for smart white clothes. Because they are all ‘born-again’ (see story on following pages) there is a aura that accompanies them wherever they go. Appearing at airports in Java they are a blast from the past as, for most Javanese, pedandas only appear in classical Ramayana ballet productions, or on temple carings and in all the old myths.
October 19th, 2013, Pura Dalem Tuban:
The Fourth full moon is the second
mightiest in Bali (after the Tenth Full Moon). The Tuban Pura Dalem
temple — which sits, defiantly, at the end of the airport runway —
pulled out all stops tonight: ten year old priests, 12 year-old
gamelan musicians (there were 5 different sets of musicians!), 16
year-old sandar (Barong nymphs) dancers, 19 year-old fire
dancers and a host of seniors dressed to the temple nines hosting an
immaculate series of ceremonies.
There is even a porkfest smorgasbord and
dining tables in the garden in the temple's outer court (watch this
video of the unique furry freak brothers SANDARAN dance and kampung cowboy SIAT API fire fighters.
(see video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfNhIdCX64g)
I find my good friend, veteran airport porter (since
1973) Nyoman Murda inside the temple. He now has an Australian
daughter-in-law and two half-Aussie grandkids. He tells me that over
half of the village works at the airport and that the Balinese Airport
authorities do come and pray at the temple festival regularly. Sadly
none of the arriving passengers made it here tonight: it would have
blown their socks off!October 20th, 2013: A special ceremony Calm before the storm, Puri Tanjung Sari, Pemecutan, Denpasar 6 a.m. In the private family courtyard of high priest to be (after 8 a m his name will change to Ida Begawan Pemecutan Manuaba (the first Pemecutan family high priest and priestess since Ida Begawan Puri Grenceng in the 17th Century (era of CPIII)) I am watching the palace warm up, quietly but efficiently, for the big event. Ida Pedanda Bang is in the merajan family house shrine dispensing wisdoms and offering me real estate. Anapaoe, my buddy, the high priests’ brother, is asleep somewhere. Le tout Denpasar is about to arrive.
November 1st, 2013: Not the Ubud Cremation. The cremation of Ida Bagus Gede Kesuma of Geria Gede Tegal, one of Denpasar's grandest Brahman houses is a rip-roaring affair there are 20 odd pedanda at the cremation today: the deceased's mother , Ida Pedanda Istri Raka, was a star of the original Stranger in Paradise columns on many occasions during the period 1979-81, and was much admired in the Brahman community).
Family elder 'Gus de' was the Beau
Brummel of his generation. Along with Pemecutan family heads, Gus De
championed full classical Majapahit-style dress on all occasions.
November 4th, 2013: Pamapagan, Pura Dalem KepalaI was chuffed today, arriving at the Brahman palace, to see that he had chosen a photo I had taken of him, in action at a cremation at Puri Kesiman some years ago, to adorn his BADE processional bier (see photo above).
In my 40 years of following this event
there has never been a night quite like tonight. Certainly the temple
forecourt is unusually crowded and the Mengwi Barong
uncharacteristically late ― to greet the return of the Kepaon gods, and
their pedati coach,on their return from Pura Sakenan ― but
there was nothing on the cards or in the air, really, to explain why
the Mogan God’s teenaged girl pepatih should fly into wild flailing and screaming blue murder trances / at first sight of the approaching Medwi monster.
They jump the gun. The head has not been
ripped off even the first black chicklet and the night is still young.
Anyway, they are whisked off to the inner sanctum where I get a few
snaps of the demure young beauties (see Fashion Spread). There are
normally seven but one is in Dubai doing her masters in mani-pedi.
(I did capture the girls magic spooky moment in this video: http://youtu.be/VkovoqtKETA)
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There was another minor sensation at the
pura pasimpangan earlier as well. Just as the priests were closing down
the pray-in , in preparation for the mass migration north at 8 p m, a
trio of whippet-thin young Grenceng palace princes in matching yellow
Harley-Davidson shirts wafted past the gamelan pavilion where I was
sitting with Kepaon palace he-men. They were very light in their
loafers. I followedtheir progress with fascination , until they finally
stopped wiggling and knelt for prayer. In that moment I realised that
the normally unflappable inner circle of King's men where following the
development with barely concealed mirth. "they’re cute the
yellow-shirts" i offered limply as barely concealed mirth turned to
good-natured snickers. In forty years of demanding that they all rip
open their shirts and expose the whip tatoos on their chests none have
ever cast nasturtiums, and now this. Ha!
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