21/11/2008

Pashupatinath

“Nepal’s most important Hindu temple stands on the banks for the holy Bagmati River on the Eastern fringes on Kathmandu. Pashupatinath is also one of the most important Shiva temples on the subcontinent and draws devotees and sadhus from all over India. Shiva is the destroyer and creator of the Hindu pantheon and is best known in his ‘terrible’ forms, particularly in Nepal as the cruel and destructive Bhairab, but he also has peaceful incarnations including those of Mahadev and Pashupati, the lord of beasts. As the shepard of both animals and humans, Pashupati shows Shiva’s most pleasant and creative side.

The Bagmati is a holy river, like Varanasi on the Ganges, Pashupatinath is a popular place to be cremated. The burning ghats (called Arya Ghats) immediately in front of the temple, north of the foot-bridges, are for cremations of royalty, though you’ll often see ritual bathing taking place in the river here. The six square cremation ghats just south of the bridges are for the common people and there is almost always a cremation going on here. The log fires are laid, the shrouded body lifted on top and the fire lit with remarkably little ceremony. It’s a powerful place to contemplate notions of death and mortality.”

Nothing that I could have read in any travel guide could have prepared me to witness a public cremation. Come to think of it, no amount of literature could prepare you for such an emotional ceremony. From the opposite bank of the holy river, I watched the family and friends as the body was prepared and as some men brought large logs onto the ghat, skilfully making it just the right size and shape to cradle the body over the flames. A young boy carried a large armful of grass bundles to the water’s edge and soaked them. The family hurriedly paced around the body which was wrapped in a white sheet on the ground. Kneeling at the head (or foot, I couldn’t really tell), each of the women uttered their last prayer and returned to standing in a broken semi-circle around the body. Struck with grief, many doubled over sobbing and had to leave the scene. Offerings of tattered flowers floated peacefully down the river (among other things like garbage and discarded shoes) and a single cow wandered lazily across the footbridge as the final preparations were made. Carried by four men, the body was placed on the pile of logs. It was covered with the bundles of grass and other offerings of incense and flowers. The face was revealed, and the fire was lit. I couldn’t bring myself to take many pictures, and I couldn’t even bare to stay very long to witness the deterioration of the body, nevermind the smell.

We walked past a handful of sadhus, each who were eager to have their picture taken. Little did I realise that once I had snapped a picture, they would expect rupees in return. It was well worth it! They had each elaborately painted their faces and bodies and keenly showed off their long beards and dreadlocks which likely hadn’t been cut in their lives.

Revisiting Bodhnath, I spotted many things that I hadn’t seen the first time around. We befriended two mini-monks (with the help of a couple of rupees) who were pleased to pose with us and tell us about their little lives. We also walked the inside circuit of the stupa where I had overlooked a collection of charming gardens. Plastic cups housed small flowers or colourful petals and were arranged around the ledges of each garden. What a pain that would be to set up and maintain everyday; there were hundreds of them! We then retreated to a mildly expensive Italian restaurant to enjoy some cheesy pizza and cold coke. What a morning! I’ve found that there’s the most hot water mid-afternoon. Today I enjoyed a selfishly long hot shower, and then relaxed in my new room for a while to prepare for an exciting evening. I soon sought refuge from my ridiculously stiff bed and clambered up to the rooftop to watch the sun set over the mountains. Kathmandu is really the city that never sleeps, which goes for the traffic too. As streetlights are being introduced into the city, nobody bothers to obey what the light suggests to keep the flow moving. In the taxi on our way to lunch, we became stuck in an intersection unable to move. The traffic is no more dense than you would expect in a city, but the vehicles are on every side of the street moving in whichever direction they feel like, which makes driving very inefficient. Cars, rickshaws, motorbikes, bicycles and pedestrians all moved into the large intersection from about six different directions at once. The poor traffic cop stood in the middle, waving his arms and feverishly blowing his whistle. Everyone literally sat around and watched each other, slowly moving into every inch of free space on the road and honking occasionally (because it really helps!). Working as a traffic cop here would be really depressing, because no matter how hard you try, your efforts don’t benefit anyone, and if anything, you would agitate the people with your shrill whistle. They should just get rid of the traffic lights and save power.