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mountains and found ourselves on a small valley plane where farms houses were abundant and work amongst the fields feverish . An energetic crowd were busily constructing something within the flow of a small stream . Crossing a small stream , it became apparent that this was a funeral pyre .
Family members , led by the Karta , the eldest male member , were taking care of the deceased . Mantras filled the air , as did a level of tenderness rarely seen in western culture where a funeral is often a place to weep and display great sorrow . It seemed here was a display of profound respect and love , where individuals knew
that their loved one would soon be passing onto another world .
A fascination fell over me , although not one of morbidity , as I watched with great interest . It wasn ’ t the first time I ’ d been invited to witness a mukhagni , a Hindu funeral ceremony and cremation , but there was something authentic about
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