'Naturally Nepal: once is not enough'-I

Raana Haider

'Nepal has three religions: Hinduism, Buddhism and Tourism'
   Popular Nepali saying
   'Naturally Nepal...is the catch-phrase of the country's Tourism Board. There is considerable credence in the one-liner. BBC Holiday reckons Nepal is one of the '50 places to see before you die.'
   It has been said that often people's sole goal is to see the high points; the Himalayan heights but Nepal is so much the sum of its parts - the fertile terrai lowlands, the nestled Kathmandu valley, other forested valleys, the terraced midlands, temperate and sub-tropical vegetation, the rolling hills, the deep-set gorges, the gushing waterfalls, the luminous lakes, the rolling rivers, the grassland plains, the dense jungles, Alpine-like meadows; thatched homesteads that sparkle in the warm November sunlight, cherry blossom trees with its luminous pink-pearl petals and then moments later rolling mists threatening heavy fog that shuts out all visions of an earlier 'piece of paradise on earth' - only to reinvent itself once the blockage has lifted. In the words of William Shakespeare, largely indicative of 'Nature's infinite book of secrecy.'
   "Draped along the greatest heights of the Himalaya, the kingdom of Nepal is a land of eternal fascination, a place where one visit is rarely enough. It's a land of ancient history, colourful cultures and people, superb scenery and some of the best walking on earth" is the first paragraph in 'Introduction' in Nepal, Lonely Planet. My armchair traveling was only heightened by the touchdown in the vale of Kathmandu within sight of the snow-capped jagged and jumbled pinnacles - a forever sight of the Himalayan range. A saying of the Sherpa people of the kingdom in the Himalaya speaks: 'The Mountain is so high, no bird can fly over it.'
   A Nepali folk song best captures the warp and weft of the land's tapestry.
   'White snow would not have stayed above
   Without the rocky foundation below,
   And the fishes would have no place to frolic
   Without the green depths in the river.'
   Nagarkot Trek
   One Colonel Jimmy Roberts who had served as 'sort of kitchen-boy' on the 1953 Everest expedition coined the word 'trekking.' Trekking is walking in the high hills and higher mountains - along mountain ridges. A novel exhilarating experience found us trekking in the 'lowest Himalayan heights' as all other super-men and super-women reach for roadless heights of the Himalaya. Nepal is known as the 'Trekker's Paradise.' For this category of travelers, Bill Bryson's declaration in A Walk in the Woods (1998) is to the point: 'Distance changes utterly when you take the world on foot.' For us amateurs, it was an hour trekking down-hill and an hour plus trekking the same route back. For 'pros' we belong to the category of 'tea-house trekking' - a brief flight of fancy. Ignoring the critics - for the record - we have trekked in Nepal at 2175 m. (7200 feet) above sea level '(ideal for acclimatization before trekking in high altitudes or going to Tibet" is the advice available in 'Club Himalaya's brochure). The other common-sense advice provided is to: 'Avoid loose flying skirts and sarees unless you want a Marilyn Monroe experience!' We did substitute our tea-house halt with a delightful lunch at 'Club Himalaya', the Nagarkot hill resort.
   Setting out together, we soon branched out at one's own pace, came together at times and then parted again. One eye was focused on the well-trod path and the other eye roaming over virtually uninhabited landscape whilst hills and dales, brooks and water-bodies glistened in the morning sun. A pretty pink cherry blossom tree stood in grace on the terraced slope in contrast to an explosive vermilion red poinsettia tree afire. Around the corner, reeds of tall bamboo plants keep swaying in the gentle breeze. In a reminder of contrasts, in the distance, a forest of pine trees stand regal. Himalayan hamlets dot the hills. Grabbing hold of a tree branch - as a makeshift walking stick - I continue happily along the meandering trails- occasionally looking up at an ink blue sky touching an emerald green mound of foliage. The beauty of the exercise is that one is the lone trekker on a lone trail and - in such an environment cautioned 'to leave only footprints and take only photographs.' Did I just get a glimpse of the 'art of trekking?' - where it is so much more 'the journey than the destination.'?
   
   Kumari Bahal
   Negotiating our way through crowds and fruit peel littered roadways in the Durbar Square, Kathmandu on the day of Diwaali, we viewed an assortment of Hindu temples closely-built together. A happy blend of pagoda-styled multi-tiered rooftops of Nepali architectural origin and Hindu religious ornamental features struck a cohesive feature. Sacred, royal and domestic architecture are cradled together in the lap of the Himalaya. Fragile-looking red brick and timber-built temples glisten golden in the warm winter sun. More wooden beams and brackets underlie overhanging roofs. Intricately wood-carved lattice windows follow the arabesque pattern - allowing light in yet providing shade and allowing those inside to look out yet preventing onlookers looking in. Importantly in Kathmandu, "Each city and building is modest, demurely proportioned, and unpretentious against the grand mountainous backdrop; an attitude rare amongst arrogant plains people who easily forget the scale of mother earth" is a revealing comment by Shobita Punja in Great Monuments of the Indian Subcontinent.
   Hearing through the grapevine in the Durbar Square that the 'Kumari Devi' (Virgin Goddess) appears in 'public' at 4pm, we headed for the Kumari Bahal temple dedicated to the 'Living Goddess.' Stone lions guard the entrance door. Vendors selling postcards of 'Kumari Devi' also flank the entrance door. The low gateway ensured we lowered our heads in respect and found ourselves within a central courtyard flanked by open verandahs. Built in the middle of the eighteenth century, it follows Buddhist vihara design principles. With our gaze fixed at an upper-latticed woodworked window opening, we waited...observed the adulation and discussed the fate of this divine child - a 'Living Goddess. All along, two men in jeans cautioned us: 'No photographs, no photographs allowed...any photograph taken, the film will be confiscated.'
   Suddenly, the cries grew louder. Looking up at the window, for a fleeting moment, I saw a fairly round face with exaggerated kohl-rimmed eyes drawn towards her temples, a 'third eye' drawn in the middle of her forehead - for far-reaching vision. She appeared older than what I had imagined - probably, the effect of the harsh makeup. Dropping my eye-glass case, I looked down to pick it up and upon standing up - the Kumari Devi was gone. Immediately, the two men were asking for donations - 'Money is for Kumari.' Like in many a religious site the world over, an element of tawdriness had set in.
   "Two American friends and I were in the courtyard of the Kumari's residence. It was early evening and we were deciding if there was enough light to take photographs. I looked up - and there was a child's impish face looking down at us from the top floor's carved window. The Kumari herself? At the same moment, my friends noticed her too. I was so flustered I did not know what to do. I had not expected to see her. Quickly, I bowed towards her with my folded palms as I would in a temple murmured namaste; my friends followed suit. When I looked up, she gave the briefest flash of a smile, like a child happy to be acknowledged, and then disappeared. Just as quickly, a man who I had only vaguely noticed loitering about the courtyard, put out his hand and demanded, "you give money. It's for the Kumari" That magical moment was instantly lost as I resentfully fumbled for some rupees. The sacred instantly became profane." So writes Rajendra S. Khadka of his experience in Travelers' Tales Guides: Nepal, True Stories of life on the road (1997).
   The Kumari Devi is selected from a particular caste of the Newari gold and silversmiths at the age of four or five. She remains the 'Living Goddess' until the onset of puberty whereupon she reverts to the life of a normal mortal. Only the completion of a series of demanding tests ensures the successful appointment of the living deity who in her role is called to bless all - public and royalty by placing a red tikka (mark) on the forehead of her devotees. During her reign, numerous ceremonial forays demand her public presence. The most spectacular is during the Indra Jatra festival when she travels in a festooned chariot through the streets of Kathmandu.
   An intriguing article titled 'Mortal Again: What is life like for a former living goddess" by Cynthia Kanetsuka in Travelers' Tales Guides: Nepal, True Stories of life on the road caught my imagination. Kanetsuka first visited Nepal in 1966 - on an overland trip from London to Kathmandu and has visited Nepal many times ever since. Unable to interview the current living goddess, she successfully tracks down a former living goddess. She meets up with a twenty-one year old college student, who has a poster of Shahrukh Khan hanging on her wall, likes makeup and receives a small allowance for her living expenses. The first few years were extremely hard, as she tried to get back into mainstream mortal life. At college, few know of her past status as an immortal deity. She hopes one day to marry and have a family. Meanwhile, Kanetsuka found a well-adjusted college-going girl with dreams and worries as any girl of twenty-one anywhere. Elsewhere, one reads of former Kumari Devis' who became social outcasts due to their goddess pedestal status. As once 'virgin deities', such 'untouchables' are unable to revert to a normal Nepali life pattern.
   (To be continued)

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