First Visit to Kathmandu in 1970

If Singapore was my introductory culture shock, Kathmandu was the ultimate. I noted in my diary at the time that it was like being transported back to ‘medieval days’. Other travellers I have spoken to who visited Kathmandu in the 60s and 70s felt the same way. In 1970 Nepal was still a mysterious kingdom high in the Himalayas which few people visited, hippies excepted. Of course, there was the connection with New Zealand through the work of Sir Edmund Hillary in the construction of schools in the remote Himalayan foothills. Mahendra was king and Kathmandu was the end of the so-called hippy trail which ran across Asia from Europe. The country had only opened up to visitors in the early 1960s some years after the first road over the mountains from India, the Tribhuvan Rajpath, had been constructed. In February 1970 the Hetauda to Kathmandu Ropeway carried the bulk of goods up to Kathmandu from India and there was still a Government hashish shop from where the pernicious weed could be purchased legally. The aptly named ‘Freak’ Street was buzzing with Nepalese … and with hippies.  Kathmandu was then the ultimate destination.

One Foot in Front of the Other - First Steps

Although I visited Kathmandu many times in later years it was this first visit, this first impression, which was the most memorable. On that first afternoon I walked through Thamel and into Durbar Square. Old wooden and brick buildings lurched crazily over narrow streets. Ancient temples – Buddhist and Hindu – existed side by side with the images of gods and goddesses, some abnormally fierce with glaring eyes staring frighteningly at passers-by. Newaris, Tibetans, Sherpas, Indians all intermingled in a mélange that fascinated me. There was very little motorised traffic, the bulk of the non-pedestrian transport being bicycles and bicycle-rickshaws and even they, at times, could make very little progress through the milling pedestrian crowds. A flute seller tried to tempt me with his bamboo flutes while a labourer pushed past with a great stack of partially cured hides on his back. Kathmandu was the first place I encountered the ubiquitous street beggars with the children being particularly persistent. It was also the first place that I had seen homeless people sleeping in the street. As I walked back to the hotel one night I came across a young boy and girl, presumably brother and sister of no more than 5 or 6, asleep on the pavement under a covering of old sacks with their dog snuggled up beside them. It was a heart-breaking scene when seen for the first time.  

First afternoon in Thamel, Kathmandu

Over the next few days I explored Kathmandu, accompanied by members from the Overland group I was joining.  Life in the back streets was particularly fascinating, once you got use to the fact that many residents urinated and defecated in the drains and performed their daily ablutions quite openly. Women washed clothes, or their hair, under roadside hand pumps, completely oblivious to the children playing, the dogs and chickens fossicking and the passers-by going about their other business. Basic shoulder-yokes were commonly used for carrying baskets, pails and water cans, etc. Freak Street, or Jhhonchen Tole to use the Nepalese name, was the centre of Western hippy culture in Kathmandu. Small shops, cheap hotels, seedy bars and dope dens, had gained it a notorious reputation over the years and the more refined travellers tended to avoid the area, particularly at night.

In a cluster of ramshackle buildings near Durbar Square is the unobtrusive Palace of Kumari Ghar, the Living Goddess. Kumari means ‘virgin’ in both Nepali and Sanskrit and a little girl, the Living Goddess, is believed to be an incarnation of Taleju, another name for the Hindu warrior goddess Durga. Reminiscent of a vestal virgin of ancient Rome, this little girl is selected esoterically by Buddhist priests through a series of stringent tests, which show the close association between the Buddhists and Hindus in Nepal. In her final test, the little girl must spend a night alone in a room with the heads of ritually slaughtered goats and buffaloes without showing fear. Except for the ten days of the annual chariot festival the Kumari, or living goddess, is confined to her palace with a woman guardian seeing to all her needs and performing the maternal role. Her family can visit rarely, if at all. As soon as the Kumari shows signs of pubescence and with the onset of menstruation, a new virgin is selected and the current Kumari returns to her family. On my visit in 1970 the Kumari was a pretty little girl of about 5 years old. Clad in a scarlet robe, her hair tied in a topknot with a scarlet ribbon, her brow overlaid with vermilion paste upon which was painted the agni chakchuu, or fire eye, a symbol of her special powers of perception. Her striking little eyes were outlined in the traditional kohl, or lamp black. She appeared briefly on a balcony looking down benignly on me and my companion with the wide-eyed innocence of the young, before being ushered into another room, out of sight. Her appearance created little disturbance among the other ladies in the grubby courtyard, one washing clothes in a soapy bowl, another searching for nits in her daughter’s hair.

On a hill overlooking Kathmandu city is Swayambhunath Stupa, also known as the Monkey Temple. A long flight of stairs leads to this magnificent structure, a large golden stupa dating from the 5^th century AD. Painted upon each of the four sides of the main stupa are the eyes of the Buddha. These glaring eyes are symbolic of Buddha's all-pervading presence. In place of a nose there is a representation of the number one in the Nepali alphabet, signifying that the single way to enlightenment is via the Vajrayana path of Buddhism prevalent in Nepal. The third eye, signifying the wisdom of looking within, is depicted on the forehead between the two eyes and no ears are shown as it is said the Buddha is not interested in hearing prayers in praise of himself. Surrounding the Golden Temple are numerous shrines, chaityas or small stupas, Tantric statues, prayer wheels, Shiva lingams, and a large Vajra or sacred thunderbolt, symbol of the Vajrana form of Buddhism. There is a Hindu temple to Harati, Goddess of smallpox which signifies the intermingling of Hinduism and Buddhism; Buddhists have no incarnation in their own pantheon to protect against the dreaded smallpox, so they have adopted the Hindu deity for protection. Langur monkeys have free reign here, hence Swayambhunath is often referred to by Westerners as the ‘Monkey Temple’.   

The Golden Stupa of Swayambhunath, Kathmandu

 The legend of the origin of Swayambhunath is rather beautiful. Once upon a time the Kathmandu Valley was a vast lake from which grew a lotus. The valley became known as ‘Swayambhu’, the self-created.  After seeing a vision of a lotus, the Bodhisattva Manjushri travelled to Swayambhu to worship the lotus. He saw that the valley would make a good place for settlement, so he cut a gorge through the mountains through which the water drained. The lotus became the hill, the flower became the golden Swayambhunath Stupa and the drained lake became the fertile Kathmandu Valley now made suitable for human habitation. With a companion I struggled to the top of the stairs, avoiding the squabbling monkeys clamouring for food. Swayambhunath is a serene retreat, certainly a place of peace after the hustle and bustle of downtown Kathmandu. Many Tibetans, refugees from their homeland not so very far away across the mountains, come here to pray and to spin the numerous prayer wheels.

During my stay in Kathmandu I hired a bicycle, so was able to range further from the city centre and it was on one of these excursions that I met my first sadhu, or holyman, at a delightful little Hindu temple at Buddhanilkanth. He sat, serenely in meditation, in front of a small wood fire in a small cell and allowed me to take his photo.  Outside women devotees placed marigolds in the pool of the Reclining Vishnu. Vishnu is one of the major gods of the Hindu Trimurti, or Trinity. I knew very little about the complexities of the Hindu religion in those days, but soon learnt that the Hindu trinity was made up of the major gods Brahma, the creator, Vishnu the preserver and Shiva, the destroyer. To complicate things, each of these deities have many manifestations all known by different names, as do their consorts, Sarasvati, Lakshmi and Parvati. All the above ‘gods’ are an aspect of Brahman, the Absolute, - ‘neither good nor evil, the source of all things’.  It was to take quite a few trips to India for me to even begin to understand the rudiments of this fascinating religion.   

Further away from the city, in the heart of the rural Kathmandu Valley, is the largest and most important Buddhist shrine in the Valley. This is Bodhnath Stupa, the most sacred shrine of Buddhists in Nepal and, like Swayambhunath, has a large Tibetan community living in its vicinity. The bowl of the Stupa is larger than Swayambhunath and the golden tower is stepped in pyramid fashion with hundreds of prayer flags fluttering in the breeze.  Like Swayambhunath, the all-seeing eyes of the Buddha glare out from all four sides of the stupa. At Bodhnath I had an audience with the 3^rd Chini Lama, the head Lama of all Nepal. The Chini Lama was once powerful in the temporal affairs of Nepal, but as a result of modernisation, his influence was now purely religious. While I remember that he was worldly wise I can remember very little of our conversation. I did hear later than he was regarded as a bit of a rogue, a known liar and cheat who had spent time in prison for illegal money dealings. While I was with him he passed on a globule of opium to a couple of hippies then told me how evil the stuff was!

Bodhnath Stupa in the Kathmandu Valley

Bodhnath is surrounded by richly cultivated fields, which I had cycled through on my journey from the city, passing through some impressive areas of rice terracing. I noticed many of the rural dwellings had walls covered with cow dung and straw patties drying in the sun for future use as fuel, and saw a number of women making these patties, ‘up to their elbows in the filthy, stinking mixture of cow shit and straw.’    

I returned to Kathmandu via Pashupatinath, the Bagmati River site where the local Hindu residents are cremated after death. This is the most important Hindu temple to the god Shiva in Nepal and is a huge complex of small shrines and temples. Only Hindus born in Nepal or India can enter the main complex. I was able to view the temple from the opposite bank of the Bagmati. Near the entrance I came across a group of sadhus, wild looking characters sitting on a bench. The wildest of them approached me and to my surprise, in a very cultured English voice asked me from where I came. He surprised me by knowing quite a lot about New Zealand.

© Neil Rawlins  text & photography

This extract is from my book, One Foot in Front of the Other - First Steps now available from Amazon.