Cambodian Buddhism wears its folk roots on its sleeve. Alongside the Buddha’s dhamma, a whole cast of pre-Buddhist deities still holds center stage:

• Brahmā (Phra Phrom): Often pictured with four faces, this creator god from the ancient Indian pantheon presides over weddings, housewarmings and blessing ceremonies.
• Indra (Preah Ind): Guardian of the heavens and rain-maker, his presence lingers in rituals invoking fertility and good harvests.
• Śiva and Viṣṇu (Preah Chedi, Preah Vean): Though their names come from Sanskrit, these gods slip seamlessly into village shrines, where farmers pray for protection against pests or floods.
• Ganeśa (Preah Ganesh): The elephant-headed remover of obstacles, whose small statues sit beside newly built homes, ensuring smooth beginnings.
• Garuḍa (Preah Moan): Eagle-like mount of Viṣṇu, often carved above temple gates to ward off evil.
• Naga: Serpentine protectors of waterways, still honored with incense and lotus blossoms along the Tonlé Sap’s banks.
• Neak Ta: “Spirits of the Land” who take countless forms—tree, rock, even abandoned houses. Every village has its Neak Ta shrine, where locals leave gold leaf, rice and palm sugar to keep boundary disputes, storms or illness at bay.
• Yeay Mao (“Grandmother Sentinel”): Patroness of travelers, her roadside altar—drizzled with red silk scarves—speaks to her enduring role as highway guardian.
• Preah Thorani (Earth Goddess): When the Buddha was assailed by Mara, she wrung water from her hair to wash away temptation. Cambodians still appeal to her in “water-pulling” ceremonies that bless new monks and monks’ robes.
• Yakṣa and Rākṣasa: Benevolent and fearsome spirits drawn from Angkor-era carvings; small figures of these guardians pop up at pagoda entrances, standing sentry against unseen dangers.

That vibrant mix—Hindu gods wearing Buddhist robes, animist spirits chatting up locals—never really went out of style. Post-Covid festivals like Pchum Ben still kick off with offerings to Neak Ta before any homage to the Buddha. And as eco-tourism picks up around Angkor, villagers quietly slip fresh fruit to their ancestral deities, proof that Cambodia’s spiritual quilt remains as patchwork and powerful as ever.