Neither here nor there

Memorials, remembrances, cenotaphs, headstones, death day tributes and rituals, mausoleums, crypts, columbariums, sarcophagus, pyramids, memorial trees and gardens, dedicated benches - all of these physical reminders are intended to keep the one who has passed on, alive in our memories.

On the contrary, in Saudi Arabia where the Wahabi Sunni Islamic tradition is followed, in the case of even monarchs and other exalted figures, when they are no more, their remains are interred in unmarked graves alongside ordinary persons. You cannot recognise which one is whose grave. Death creates a kind of democratic equity that may not have been the case when they were alive.

Why do we need physical reminders of the one who is no longer with us in body? Would we not remember them, otherwise?


Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, whose birth centenary is being celebrated this year as the Year of Mindfulness, said, "I have a disciple in Vietnam who wants to build a stupa for my ashes when I die, with a plaque: 'Here lies my beloved teacher.' Instead of wasting temple land, I suggested - if they still insist on a stupa - the plaque could say, 'I am not here.' But in case people don't get it, they could add, 'I am not out there either.' If still people don't understand, then you can write, 'I may be found in your way of breathing and walking.'" So, it is better to remember the deceased's teachings, good deeds and kindness, and try to emulate those rather than ritualise and glorify bones and ashes.