Sak Yant: Getting a magic tattoo in a Thai Temple

Jan 30, 2015
5 min read

The morning was hot, I was hungover, and the countryside temple I was in was a long way from the airport where I needed to be only a few hours later.

To make things worse, three Thai men were pinning me down while I was repeatedly stabbed with a giant steel needle. The Buddhist monk wielding the needle was covered in ‘magic’ tattoos – Sak yants – and was now etching one into the nape of my neck, a burst of pain every time the needle punctured my skin, the ink disconcertingly said to be mixed with snake venom in order to sterilise and give power.

This was something I shouldn’t have been doing. This was something I hadn’t even planned.

The night before, while eating in the food court of a Bangkok mega mall, I saw a show on TV about a crazy ceremony in an upcountry-looking temple. Some of the hundreds of heavily-tattooed men participating became consumed by the tiger spirit of the temple and went wild. It was then followed up by them getting more tattoos inked by the shaven headed monks.

I mentioned it to my Thai friend in passing later. Surprisingly, he said the temple was called Wat Bang Phra and situated just outside of Bangkok. His brother visited every year to get a sak yant done, though ones made using vegetable oil instead of ink – an invisible way to receive the magic power. The ceremony I’d seen was of the annual tattoo festival held there.

I’d whimsically considered getting a yant done when I used to live in Thailand years ago, but never had the details or volition to do so. Now, without my asking, my friend not only called his brother to get all the logistical info, but also rang his cousin who owned a taxi company to transport me there. My mind had been made up for me.

First, though, I had to have my final evening out before going home. I tried not to stay out too late, though in predictable Thai fashion the food and booze didn’t stop flowing, and I didn’t crash until deep into the humid night.

I managed to get up on time only a few hours later, but obviously the van driver didn’t. I had to wait 40 minutes for him on the bustling Sukhomwit road, feebly trying to hide from the already high sun while getting pestered by the occasional ladyboy or hooker still on the prowl from the night before.

When he eventually showed up, he had no idea where he was taking me. Yet it only took an hour and a half to get to there despite the horrendous traffic and then haplessly driving around long, empty country lanes visiting several temples before finding the right one.

Wat Bang Phra was a typically ornate and pretty temple. The usual glitter and gold, nestled in an expanse of green, beneath a vast sky of blue.

I got the driver to ask where we could find Luang Pee Ting, the monk recommended by my friend’s brother. We were directed to a contrastingly plain side room where a group of people sat listlessly waiting to have their yants done. They all looked a bit dodgy. Two saffron robed monks sat against the wall casually jabbing the long silver needles into the backs of men who were being held steady by guys either side.

The yants are Hindu and Buddhist yantras, geometric patterns made up of ancient Kymer glyphs. They supposedly posses magical powers that bring good fortune, protection from physical harm, and ward off evil. Traditionally they’re worn by monks, Thai boxers, soldiers, the superstitious, and villains. I think the room I was in was populated mostly by the latter.

Sak Yants have now become famous in the West, mostly due to being adorned on Angelina Jolie’s body. (Though monks aren't allowed to touch women, so Angelina had hers done by a layman.)

After a short while, I got my dim-witted driver to ask which one of the monks was Luang Pee Ting. Neither of them were. Pee Ting was in another building. After a getting redirected several times to his room, we found out he wasn’t there at all that day. Also, he only did the oil tattoos, so were instead pointed in the direction of an external hall.

Outside this hall was a woman selling candles, flowers, and incense. These have to be offered to the monks alongside a nominal sum of money. It took me a moment to notice a monk sitting nearby, tattooing on a small porch. The group gathered around him looked the opposite of the other place – quite respectable. Though not so much the monk. He was junkie skinny with weathered features, rotten teeth and a body full of badly-done yants. He wouldn’t have looked out of place at the notorious Bang Kwang prison.

But he was cool, friendly and talkative. His name was Luang Pee Phaeow. As he finished off the job he was doing, he asked me in Thai questions about myself. He then had a bowl of noodles while we all sat waiting in silence. As he finished eating, a ladyboy turned up with a gimpy-looking Japanese guy in tow. The monk straight away summoned the Japanese guy to sit down before him.

As he did so, a dog that’d inconspicuously been laying underneath the monk’s pedestal suddenly came to life. Teeth snarling and barking wildly, he went for the gimp, making me properly jump. It was hauled back and everybody laughed. Though not the mutt. He was far from happy.

After the monk had finished with the Japanese guy – and sent him on his way with a ‘sayonara’ – he told me to take off my T-shirt and kneel before him. I gave him my offerings then turned around and buried my face into my knees as instructed. The Thai guys who were waiting for their tattoos moved in and held me down. Gulp.

You usually don’t know what design you’ll get done. The monk apparently evaluates you and your aura, then decides which yant is best for you. For me he chose the Gao Yord – a geometric design representing the nine sacred peaks of the legendary Mount Meru – the yant usually given to first-timers.

The first jab didn’t hurt. Or the next few. But the pain soon accumulated, especially as the needle went over bone. Luckily, it was over quickly and I had to sit up and wai (the prayer-like gesture of deference) as the monk blessed the yant. After bowing three times before him, I was told I could leave.

Next stop was the main hall of the temple, where the late chief monk’s (Luang Pee Pon) embalmed body was laid out in an eerie shrine. I bought two tiger amulets and had to wait in line for them to be blessed by a bored-looking senior monk. He also drew a yant on the inside of my wallet with a silver pen, which looked rather nice.

I was told I have to abide by these rules:

1. Do not kill

2. Do not steal

3. Do not indulge in sexual misconduct

4. Do not make false speech

5. Do not take intoxicants

Hmm …Will three out of five be OK?

Anyway, afterwards I rushed back to Bangkok and then on to the airport. I made it just in time, but soon realised it wasn’t wise to get tattooed before flying– my bag pulled on the fresh ink, and then it was impossible not to sleep on it during the long flight home.

Still, it was a small price to pay for being forever lucky and supernaturally safe from harm.