Why Bali Cremation Ceremony Is More Than Just a Funeral

Alright, let’s just start with this—if you’ve never seen a Bali Cremation Ceremony (locally called Ngaben), you might be picturing something quiet, somber, and formal. But nope. It’s actually the opposite. Loud, colorful, intense, spiritual, and honestly… kinda mind-blowing.

So what’s the deal?

In Bali, death isn’t seen as a full stop. It’s more like a comma. A pause before the soul moves on to its next life. Cremation is considered a sacred duty by the family—it helps free the soul from the body so it can reincarnate. Skipping this process? Not really an option. People save for years to afford one. Some families even wait months or years until they can do it right, often pooling resources with others for a group cremation.

Now if that’s not commitment to tradition, I don’t know what is.

My First Ngaben Experience—And Why I’ll Never Forget It

I was in Ubud back in 2017 when a local friend, Wayan, told me there’d be a Bali Cremation Ceremony happening in his village the next day. He said, “You should come. It’s not sad like you think. It’s a big event.”

And he wasn’t kidding.

By 9 AM, the entire village was buzzing. There were women weaving coconut leaves, men lifting this huge, towering funeral tower (bade), and little kids running around in temple gear like it was just another Sunday.

Wayan’s uncle was the one being cremated. He’d passed months before, but they’d waited until this mass ceremony to give him the proper send-off. I asked Wayan why they waited, and he said, “We don’t want his soul to be stuck. But we also want to do it right. That takes time.”

And let me tell you—the detail and artistry involved? Unreal. Gold-painted bulls, offerings stacked as high as your head, and gamelan music that vibrated through your whole chest. Nothing like a Western funeral. It felt like a festival.

What Actually Happens During a Bali Cremation Ceremony?

It’s not a one-day deal. Depending on the family’s resources and the size of the event, it can stretch out for a few days. But here’s the basic flow:

Preparation Phase

This part’s huge. The body’s usually buried temporarily until the family’s ready. Sometimes for weeks, sometimes for years. When the day comes, they exhume the body, clean the bones (yep, literally), and prepare it for cremation.

There’s also the building of the bade (funeral tower) and the lembu (a big black bull or sometimes a lion, depending on caste and region). These are carried through the village during the ceremony.

And carrying isn’t even the right word. It’s more like spinning, jolting, and hoisting through narrow roads. The idea is to confuse evil spirits so they don’t follow the soul.

The Procession

You’ll hear it before you see it.

The gamelan orchestra bangs away, people chant, shout, and laugh, and the entire village joins in. The tower is carried on bamboo poles by dozens of men, sometimes even more, because the thing is massive. And heavy. Like, “someone’s definitely going to throw their back out” heavy.

Locals throw rice and flowers. Tourists (if they’re respectful) usually stand to the side and observe. You’ll smell incense. You’ll feel heat. You’ll hear constant movement and sound. It’s chaotic but in a rhythmic way.

The Cremation Itself

Once the tower reaches the cremation site—usually an open field—they place the body into the lembu, perform a series of blessings and rituals, and then light it on fire.

Not with matches. With a literal blowtorch in many cases.

The flames rise, and people gather around, still chanting and playing instruments. It might sound strange, but there’s not a lot of crying. The idea is to let the soul go with joy, not grief. To celebrate the life that was lived.

And once the body is reduced to ashes, the remains are collected and later scattered into the sea or a river, completing the journey.

What to Expect If You’re a Foreigner Attending One

Let’s get real—this isn’t a tourist attraction. It’s a deeply spiritual and communal event. But most Balinese are surprisingly open to respectful outsiders attending, especially if you’re invited by someone in the village.

Here’s what I wish someone had told me before my first ceremony:

• Dress appropriately. You’ll need a sarong and sash. Don’t show up in shorts and flip-flops, no matter how hot it is.
• Don’t take selfies. Seems obvious, but you’d be surprised how many folks can’t help themselves. Be discreet if you want to take photos—ask first.
• Be ready to stand in the heat for hours. Bring water, sunscreen, and maybe a small towel. You’re gonna sweat.
• Respect the rituals. Don’t step over offerings. Don’t interrupt processions. When in doubt, follow the locals’ lead.

And one more thing—some of the rituals can feel intense. Fire, chanting, loud music, and the actual burning of the body. If you’re sensitive to that, it can be a lot.

Why Families Sometimes Wait Years for a Cremation

I know it sounds wild, but yeah—waiting years isn’t unusual. In Bali, it’s not just about honoring the dead. It’s about doing it right. And that can cost serious money.

A single Bali Cremation Ceremony can run into the tens of millions of rupiah. Between the offerings, the tower, the musicians, and feeding the entire village (because yeah, food is always involved), it adds up fast.

That’s why mass cremations (Ngaben Massal) are common. A few dozen families will team up and hold a collective ceremony. It saves money and still honors the tradition.

Sometimes the body is temporarily buried, or the bones are placed in a special container and kept safe until the big day.

How the Balinese View Death (And Why It’s Pretty Eye-Opening)

This one really hit me.

In the West, we tend to fear death, avoid it, tiptoe around the topic. In Bali, it’s right there. Part of daily life. Part of the rhythm of the community. I’ve heard locals say things like, “It’s just the next part,” or “The soul’s moving on. Let’s help it.”

There’s a sense of peace and responsibility around it. You’re not just mourning. You’re helping someone complete their journey. That shift in mindset? Kinda changed how I look at death myself.

It’s less about loss and more about letting go. That’s a hard thing to do, but the ritual—the community, the music, the fire—it makes it a shared thing. Not just yours to carry.

Lesser-Known Facts About Bali Cremation Ceremonies

I’ve picked up a few interesting bits over the years that don’t always make it into the travel blogs:

• Caste matters. The type of animal effigy used in the ceremony depends on the deceased’s caste. Brahmins often use white bulls, while Ksatriya (warrior class) may use lions.
• Women often lead the preparation. Making offerings, preparing flowers, weaving coconut leaves—it’s hours of work, often done weeks in advance, mostly by the women of the family.
• Ngaben ceremonies don’t always include the actual body. Sometimes, in symbolic cremations (Ngaben Ngelungah), only photos or representations are burned—especially when the person died far away or long ago.
• The cremation isn’t the end. There are purification ceremonies held days or weeks later to cleanse the area, the family, and even the tools used.
• Some kids LOVE these ceremonies. I know, sounds wild. But for local kids, it’s an exciting day—rituals, snacks, music, the energy of the village coming together.

How to Tell If a Cremation Ceremony is Happening During Your Visit

These aren’t scheduled like concerts—you won’t find them listed on TripAdvisor. But if you’re staying in a village (especially Ubud, Gianyar, Bangli, or Karangasem), chances are you’ll stumble across one or hear whispers.

Ask around. Your homestay host, your driver, the folks selling sarongs in the market—they’ll know. If you’re lucky, someone might invite you.

If you do get the chance, don’t say no. It’s one of the most profound things you can witness in Bali. But again—go with respect, not curiosity. This isn’t just a cool thing to do on vacation. It’s a moment that means everything to the people there.

To avoid the stress of traffic and parking, go with a Bali car rental with driver – it’s the smartest move.

What the Cremation Ceremony Teaches You—Even if You’re Just a Visitor

After watching a few of these, and talking with locals about what it all means, I’ve come to realize something kind of beautiful.

The Bali Cremation Ceremony isn’t just about honoring the dead. It’s a full expression of community. Of love. Of letting go the right way. It teaches patience (waiting until the time is right), generosity (sharing the costs and labor), and presence (being there, even when it’s hard).

I mean, how many of us really think about death this way?

In Bali island, they live with death—not in fear, but with ritual, with color, and with open arms. They hold space for it. And in doing so, they make it a little less scary. Maybe even something you could face without regret.