Kathmandu in a day

So I saw my first funeral pyre. And now I have the Doors stuck in my head.

My first and only day of sightseeing in Kathmandu was packed with the key tourist sites in the city. My guide, Prahtik was very good and knew the incredibly rich history well. The first stop was to Hanuman-Dhoka Square. This is where the old palace was located and where lots and lots of temples exist. Having little expectations of my visit, since I didn’t plan ahead at all, I found myself stopped abruptly in my tracks as I looked up and saw half a building ruined by…it dawned on me…the earthquake. This particular part of the city was absolutely devastated by the earthquake in 2015. Every building that managed to keep standing had awkward and aesthetically displeasing support beams scattered around them. I felt stunned by the images and by my ignorance of the recent pain this city had experienced.

Having recovered, I soon marveled at what was still standing. Our first stop was to see the living goddess, Kumari. I thought this was a “wink wink” living goddess and played along when Prahtik suggested she may or may not be available for viewing. We entered her home and it was a lovely courtyard with elaborate iron wood carvings. “She comes to that middle window there,” Prahtik said, pointing to a small window on the third floor. “Let’s ask her priest if we can see her.” He shouted up and a grumpy looking guy appeared and answered that the goddess was praying, but may come shortly. It was then that I realized this was about to get real. Sure enough, a pre-pubescent scowling pixie with hardcore eyeliner popped her head in the window. “There she is,” Prahtik exclaimed and I think he’s genuinely amazed to see her. I didn’t know what to think as I stared and stared. Then just like that she disappeared and we exited.  I looked at incoming tourists and I thought, “ha, you missed her!” And then I thought that’s probably not going to win me spiritual points with the living goddess.

We moved around squares filled with deity statues and temples. As Prahtik described this place of worship or that stature or that god, I wondered, very ignorantly, which were Buddhist and which were Hindu. I also assumed they were separate. I'm grateful that Prahtik volunteered that the religions in Nepal prided themselves in coexistence. He gave several examples of B-H cooperation. Kumari being one: she is born of a Hindu family and becomes the living Buddhist god (or was it the reverse). The revelry of worship was fascinating to watch. I will not describe it in too much detail as to not once again reveal my ignorance. There was a colorful, messy and hectic ceremony of candles, incense and flowers adorning the statues of a particular god. Pilgrims crowded into the statue and blessed themselves. It made me want to join them. It made me think these religions are more fun and more accepting. I don't know why. I'm also aware that their history isn't always filled with acceptance and was reminded of that when we got to the picture of the king and his son who were killed in 2001.

After the square we visited the monkey temple or Swayambhunath. This was a wondrous climb up a steep hill with monkeys ruling the roost and Tibetan prayer flags flapping high in the sky. We could see the whole city from this spot. I could also see why I could not see the mountains as fog and smog clouded their view.

Next stop was the Great Boudha Stoupa, which was a grand temple with a circle of shops and restaurants around it. We first stopped and had lunch. I ate momos on the roof of a hotel restaurant overlooking the Stoupa. It was fun to people watch – pilgrims, teenagers, westerners, monks…the gang was all there. I discovered that momos were dumplings and I was happy to have them in my mouth. We climbed up on to the Stoupa after lunch and did a circumnavigation or whatever the spiritual word is for circling the temple. We went into a monastery and I found it fascinating that a woman and baby were among the monks sitting on the floor. Why were they there? It was interesting that all sexes were allowed to worship together.

My last stop and perhaps most memorable was to Pashupatinath Temple, where Hindus go to worship and cremate their dead. It all sounds very interesting until you actually watch this happen. Like most sites, we meandered around the ornate temples and deity statues. It was interesting to imagine the bodies on the pyre…and then suddenly there was a body. A group had just finished washing the fallace with milk and then another group arrived with a body wrapped in orange muslin.

Oh, it’s on.

Like a car wreck, I could not turn away, even when they pushed away the cloth to reveal the dead man’s face. He looked old enough for it not to be tragic. But the humanity of it all came into stark relief. They dipped his feet in the river and washed his face. They covered him back up and carried him down the river to the awaiting pyre. For the next 30 minutes or so family members (presumably) and caretakers discussed logistics and encircled the body, applying various ablutions and I guess oils for burning. Finally, they picked up the body, circled the pyre three times and then placed it on top of the wood. Smoke billowed from fires lit earlier in the day and I tried not to think about the smell (etcetera) clinging to my hair and clothes.

After what seemed like an eternity, the flame was lit. To my horror, they actually lit his face first. It was awful to see and I could not believe that no one cried out. Perhaps they did but I was too far to hear. For ages and ages only the face burned. Then, with deftness, the caretaker lit the rest of the funeral pyre, which began to burn in earnest. It felt deep and spiritual and emotional. It was an unexpected moment of intimacy among the tourist sites. We decided it was a good time to exit.