What it is like to experience Nyepi, Bali’s day of silence 

BALI – Bali is on fire. Terrifying demon statues called ogoh-ogoh – some as tall as 8m – are being paraded across the island in an event called Pengerupukan. Firecrackers pop and go off, while crowds cheer over the cacophony of clashing cymbals and booming gongs of gamelan orchestras.

Local youth carry the ogoh-ogoh down the streets, spinning them at intersections, which is believed to disorientate evil spirits. Finally, the ogoh-ogoh are set aflame – a symbol of purification and the triumph of light over darkness.

Then, the silence begins.

Nyepi, the Balinese day of silence, starts as soon as the sun rises the next morning. Typically falling after the new moon closest to the spring equinox (between late March and early April), it marks the first day of a new year on the Saka calendar, an ancient luni-solar system used in Balinese Hindu culture.

For 24 hours, Bali descends into silence and darkness. With the exception of hospitals and emergency services, the entire island shuts down. Even the airport, which operates more than 400 flights a day, is closed.

There are four main prohibitions during this time: fire, light or electricity; working or productive activities; travelling or leaving the home; and entertainment or loud noises.

The purpose is to make the island seem abandoned and not attract any bad spirits, which are believed to have been cast away during the loud and lively Pengerupukan the night before.

Local security guards from each banjar, or village community, are the only ones allowed outside, patrolling to ensure that everyone abides by the rules and assisting with emergencies.

Tourists tend to avoid staying in Bali during Nyepi, opting for neighbouring islands like Lombok and the Gilis instead. As they are not permitted to leave their hotel, many view it as “wasting” a vacation day. But those who stay might have an unexpectedly memorable experience.

Banishing bad spirits

I arrive the day before Nyepi at Four Seasons Resort Bali at Jimbaran Bay (from 13 million rupiah, or S$970, a night for a garden villa room), where I will spend the Day of Silence and take part in its festivities.

Greeting me at the lobby is a towering purple ogoh-ogoh with vicious fangs, bulging eyes and long, sharp nails.

Ogoh-ogoh represent evil spirits and bad energy, with designs inspired by demonic figures from Hindu mythology and Balinese folklore.

Some ogoh-ogoh represent human vices such as greed and arrogance, while modern takes are often tongue-in-cheek representations of social offenders and controversial public figures, such as the 2011 effigy of Mr Gayus Tambunan, a tax official convicted of corruption.

Other controversial behaviours often depicted include disrespect for local customs and prioritising economic gains over the environment, both of which are prominent issues in Bali.

The Four Seasons staff made the ogoh-ogoh out of bamboo, rope and papier-mache. Concierge supervisor I Putu Gede Dipta Pradnyana, 28, explains its story: “Ours is based on Jogor Manik, a guardian who judges the fate of souls at the crossroads of heaven and hell. The figure on his shoulder holding a scroll is Sang Suratma, the divine auditor, while the two humans are awaiting their fate.”

We are interrupted by the clanging and chiming of gamelan music. Staff re-enact the story behind the ogoh-ogoh – of humans striving to be in Jogor Manik’s good books, while Sang Suratma records their every deed on earth. It conveys the golden rule of karma – treat others as you wish to be treated.

Then, Jogor Manik is paraded down the road to Sundara, the resort’s beachfront restaurant. We walk alongside the ogoh-ogoh, dancers and gamelan ensemble – well over a hundred hotel staff are involved in this performance. It is a goosebump-inducing event, the gamelan music blending with the whooping as Jogor Manik is whirled around dizzyingly. All the bad spirits have been banished, we hope.

Day of silence

On the morning of Nyepi, I wake up to the sea breeze drifting through the sliding doors of my premier ocean villa. There is a peaceful stillness in the air.

I look towards Bali’s I Gusti Ngurah Rai International Airport at the opposite end of Jimbaran Bay. The day before, I had grown accustomed to the roar of planes landing and taking off every few minutes. Today, the only sounds are of the waves crashing gently onto a stretch of golden sand.

Even without leaving the resort, there are plenty of ways to enjoy Nyepi. They include free activities such as making gebogan (traditional fruit towers used in ceremonies) and Balinese dance lessons, as well as paid ones such as a zero-waste cocktail class at Telu Bar (600,000 rupiah a person).

I join a free workshop to make canang sari – the small, colourful offerings seen on the streets and in businesses and homes in Bali.

At the tranquil resort temple, guest experience manager (culture) Ni Ketut Swartini (also known as Ibu Atik), 58, guides me through the process of weaving young coconut leaves into a tray.

I fold the leaf into a rough square, using a lidi (the midrib of a coconut leaf) to fasten the corners together.

Once my tray is ready, I fill it with rice cakes representing the sun and moon, a slice of dried banana symbolising prosperity, and flowers that represent harmony and gratitude. A stick of incense would usually be added to the canang sari, but we skip this step as no fire is allowed during Nyepi.

“The average Balinese household will make around 25 of these a day. We place them in home temples, the front yard and the kitchen,” Ibu Atik says. “Making them is a very meditative process. I can shut my mind off and focus on the present.”

She encourages me to take my canang sari back to my villa and place it in the small shrine in the garden. As I do, I set my intentions for the year ahead.

Guided by the hushed atmosphere, I take it easy for the rest of the day. I read by the pool, stroll through the lush resort gardens and enjoy a quiet moment in one of the secluded seating areas looking out to sea.

Just before sunset, I return to the temple, where Ibu Atik ties a sarong and a sash around my waist. This is a requirement for both men and women when entering sacred areas in Bali – the sarong covers the legs, while the sash separates the “impure” lower half from the “pure” upper half of the body.

In the temple, several shrines stand in a row. Ibu Atik says that they represent elements of the universe, such as wisdom, balance, business and energy, and I say a prayer at each one.

After sunset, I feel the magic of Nyepi. At resort restaurant Taman Wantilan, lights have been replaced by flickering candles – the resort has permission to light candles for guests’ safety – and the sea views closed off by blinds, to honour the darkness observed by the island. All lights in the villas are switched off too, although in-villa lights are permitted with curtains drawn.

After a meal of yellow rice, sate lilit (fish mixed with coconut and spices) and traditional cakes such as klepon (glutinous rice flour cakes filled with palm sugar) – part of a buffet dinner that costs 950,000 rupiah a person – I return to my villa and gaze up at the sky.

As Nyepi coincides with a new moon, the stars are dazzlingly bright, especially without light pollution from nearby Denpasar.

Slowing down

The next morning, I make my way to the ocean for a blessing ceremony, where I light an incense stick that I plunge into a mini ogoh-ogoh at the water’s edge, a ritual believed to transfer negative energy into the demon.

The resort’s priest I Gusti Nyoman Sudarsana (also known as Pak Ajik), 55, gives me a blessing, saying a prayer as he sprinkles my head with holy water. He ties a tri-coloured Tridatu bracelet around my wrist, representing the Hindu trinity – red for Brahma the creator, white for Shiva the destroyer and black for Vishnu the preserver.

He then places wet, uncooked rice grains called bija on my forehead or “third eye”, signifying the completion of the ritual.

I ask Pak Ajik how tourists can participate in Nyepi respectfully. “It’s simple – stay inside your hotel, draw the curtains and keep lights low at night, avoid loud music and speak in hushed tones,” he says.

Yet those constantly on the go may find it a challenge to slow down.

Ms Ni Kadek Asti, 45, who runs a small warung (family-run eatery) in the town of Amed on Bali’s north coast, says about Nyepi: “Some phone providers turn off their signal, so we can’t go online anyway. Instead, I like to spend quality time with my family and reflect on my goals for the coming year.”

To the island’s visitors, she adds: “Embrace the experience. Take this time to disconnect from the outside world and welcome the stillness, whether it’s through meditation, journaling or reading. Even if you’re not experiencing Nyepi, the idea of taking a period of time to switch off from a constantly connected world is a good practice to honour.”