The body lay wrapped in a maroon robe as a small cluster of mourners gathered last week to pay their respects. Buddhist monks chanted verses, praying for the deceased, who had been one of them.
One monk, Ashin Javanar Linkhara, then held his late colleague’s robe to his forehead and whispered the phrase used to announce the death of a loved one: “Impermanent, alas, are all formations.” He was clutching a dusty, thin and slightly torn cotton blanket that had belonged to the monk, Ashin Pyinnyar Tharmi (27). It was found near his body in the rubble of a monastery in Mandalay, Myanmar, that was toppled by the powerful earthquake last month.
The monk’s funeral concluded soon after, with more cremations following that day, instead of the days-long ceremonies typically held for monks.
Myanmar (formerly Burma) was already in a humanitarian crisis before the disaster, ravaged by a long civil war. The earthquake on March 28th killed thousands of people and struck a devastating blow to an underpinning of society: the country’s Buddhist clergy. Thousands of religious monuments and buildings were destroyed, and many monks were buried under their monasteries. It is not known how many monks were killed.
Buddhism is the official religion in Myanmar, and about 90 per cent of its people adhere to the faith. It has shaped the country’s identity and moral code but has also been fused with nationalism. In recent years, an extremist movement has led to Buddhist lynch mobs killing hundreds of Muslims.
Some monks have at times stood up to the military, which has ruled Myanmar for most of its postcolonial history. But most stayed silent after generals toppled a civilian government in 2021, some even giving blessings to the new rulers.
But the monks are still held in high regard and seen as a source of solace and humanitarian aid, especially after natural disasters such as the recent earthquake. The junta, critics say, has been blocking and restricting aid.
The clergy has an outsize role in Mandalay, the country’s second-largest city and a centre for Buddhist learning. Roughly 50,000 monks were estimated to be living in the city before the earthquake.
When the earthquake struck, monks from monasteries in Mandalay were taking exams to qualify for higher ranks at a religious hall in the city.
Ashin Nanda Sariya, a monk, said he was in the building when the earthquake hit. As it collapsed, his roommate’s hand was trapped under a chunk of falling concrete. A rescue volunteer said that if the hand was not amputated, he faced a deadly infection. So his friend asked for a knife and cut off his own hand. But he didn’t make it.
“I still feel really heartbroken that he had to die like that just because there were no trained rescue workers or proper equipment in Myanmar,” Nanda said.
Monasteries in Myanmar are more than just places of worship: They serve as shelters for the homeless, schools and a place for the community to congregate. Now hundreds of monasteries lie in rubble. Among them are two influential ones in Mandalay: the Old and New Masoeyein monasteries, which are like Buddhist universities for the local community.
It was also in these centres that the Buddhist nationalist movement, Ma Ba Tha, or the Organisation for the Protection of Race and Religion, was formed. It has aligned with the junta and kept up a steady stream of anti-Muslim rhetoric.
Win Zaw (50), a Mandalay resident who visits the Old Masoeyein monastery regularly, said he and many other people in Myanmar saw the collapse of monasteries and pagodas as “a bad sign, like the country is under a curse”.
“It’s a sign that the old times are ending and a new Myanmar might be coming,” he said.
U Eaindra Sakka Viwuntha is the abbot of the Old Masoeyein monastery and a leader of the Ma Ba Tha movement. He said his mother and sister had died in the earthquake, buried under a collapsed building.
“We do not blame the ground or the sky,” he said. “In Buddhism, we understand that all things arise and pass away, even temples, even lives.”
In the wake of the earthquake, people in Myanmar are still trying to figure out what the future holds. In the past five years they have faced the coronavirus pandemic, a coup and the ensuing civil war, as well as other natural disasters such as floods. But dwelling on the tragedies has not been an option for most.
There is too much to do. People travelled from far-flung parts of the country to distribute goods to those in need. While soldiers stood aside, volunteers combed through rubble with their hands. Shopkeepers gave out ice pops and longyi, wraparound garments that are worn by men and women alike in Myanmar, to thank volunteers.
When the earthquake struck, Javanar, the monk who presided over the funeral, was in the same monastery as his friend Pyinnyar. But he was on the third floor, at the top, and survived.
Pyinnyar, who was on the ground floor, did not.
“Buddhism teaches us not to ask why it happened, but how we meet it,” Javanar said. “With calm, with care, and with compassion for those who suffer.”
It was a sentiment shared by other monks who survived the earthquake. The Venerable U Zawtika, a senior monk, said the trembling of the earth was a reminder that everything is impermanent, not just people’s lives but even the ground beneath their feet.
“The earthquake is not sent to destroy us; it is simply the earth shifting, as it has for aeons,” he said. “When tragedy comes, we grieve. We do not deny our pain. But we also chant, we meditate, we remember the Buddha’s words: ‘All that is subject to arising is subject to ceasing.’ In this way, we don’t cling. We practise compassion for the lost, the suffering, and even for ourselves. That is how we endure.”
On that Saturday afternoon in Mandalay, after the ceremony for Pyinyyar was over, the body of another monk arrived by ambulance. His shaved head and maroon robe were caked with dust. He had been found beneath debris inside the collapsed religious hall where the monks had been taking exams.
A young monk gently poured water over the dead man’s right hand using a small bowl, symbolising his release from worldly attachments.
The body was then zipped up in a black body bag and transported to the city crematory. It was placed on top of wood on a platform in a patch of open land.
A monk sprinkled a fragrant powder. It was made of sandalwood, which Buddhists believe is a reminder of the impermanence of life. Then, a volunteer lit the pyre, and flecks of ash swirled in the air.
– This article originally appeared in the New York Times.
