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.
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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.
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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 5th
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’.
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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 3rd 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!
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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
