"Not all those who wander are lost"
- J.R.R. Tolkien
The Sensational Six piled into a van hired by our fixer and hit the town. Our guide is a life-long local with a Master's Degree in Nepalese culture. His sincere and sometimes humorous commentary was insightful and added real context to what could otherwise be viewed as just another temple, statue, or building.
Kathmandu is a 2,000 year old city and the birthplace of Buddah. Everywhere you look, there are visual references to the life of Buddha, as well as the various Hindu Gods. Deities
in Hinduism are as diverse as its traditions, and a Hindu can choose to
be polytheistic, pantheistic, monotheistic, and monistic. They can even be agnostic,
atheistic, or humanist. The enormous populations of Hindi and Buddhists appear to coexist peacefully in Kathmandu. It occurred to me that the rest of the world could learn from the Nepalis.
One of the sites we visited was the Pashupatinath Temple, a revered Hindu pilgrimage site where life and death are uniquely intertwined. The temple straddles the "sacred" Bagmati River over which there are several narrow walking bridges traversing the riverbanks. As we approached the river, I noticed an increasing number of visitors and monks wearing masks. Masks are very common here and were long before COVID. The air quality index alarm on my phone is a constant reminder of why. The number of masks worn by people along the riverbanks was strikingly higher than the rest of the temple, and the rest of Kathmandu for that matter. Vendors were even selling masks, but I was sporting my RBF, so they didn't give me a second look.
As our group crested the arch-shaped bridge before us, I had a clear view of both banks. The bank to the left of me was adorned with angled concrete slabs that extended into the river and resembled narrow residential driveways we have in the States. To the right were similarly shaped concrete slabs, but these were parallel with the river; not angled like a driveway. We crossed to the other side of the river and walked to the left to get a clearer view of the activities. Laid out on the driveways were deceased bodies that were covered in what appeared to be white gauze-like sheets. Surrounding each body were family members who took turns uncovering and washing the deceased's feet, hands, and head before tightly wrapping them with a bright orange ceremonial satin-like cover. I opted to not take photos or videos out of respect for the families.
The deceased was then placed on a stretcher made from two bamboo sticks and cloth and carried by family members along the riverbank under the bridge in a solemn procession before being placed atop a wood pile that was precisely-stacked on one of the flat concrete slabs. Prayers were spoken after which the deceased was set ablaze and cremated - in the open air for all to see. After the deceased was reduced to calcium deposits by the fire, the human and wood ashes were unceremoniously swept into the river by an old woman with an even older broom. I witnessed at least three cremations being carried out simultaneously while I stood there, and I was told that these ceremonies are conducted all day long and deep into the night.
Once the ashes hit the "sacred" river, it was as if all ceremonial respect for the temple was forgotten as the mourners who touched the body casually threw their clothes and cleaning body rags into the water. I scanned the river and was creeped out by the stagnant mush of ashes, clothing, and general garbage that may have been tossed in upstream from the temple. There was very little flow, so the masses of filth and ashes just gathered itself into numerous piles extending upward out of the water. Litter is tossed everywhere Kathmandu with seemingly no regard for ecological impact. There are no trashcans along sidewalks or streets and people casually toss their garbage at will. But I digress.
After the spectacle of what had just transpired before me was over, my mind shifted to the smell and the presence of ashes floating in the air. Suddenly, all the mask wearers made sense and it occurred to me that I could have been unknowingly inhaling dead people for the last hour. Nobody spoke as we departed the temple, heading someplace for lunch. Yeah, lunch. Breaking the silence, I asked our guide about the airborne ashes and he said there had been several studies conducted about the potential health impacts of the open cremation practice. He added that it was determined that the calcified human ashes are far too heavy to get airborne and that the ashes we saw floating (and that we ingested) were only from the burned wood. I decided to allow myself to believe that in hopes that my appetite might return and I could sleep at night. It took two days and three showers to finally shake that smell.
After the human BBQ, we decided it was time for lunch. We had walked several miles and some Momo and a beer sounded pretty good, phantosmia.notwithstanding. Lunch was followed by more sites before returning to the hotel. I found myself fighting the urge to nap after we returned. At this point, I still haven't fully adjusted to the time zone and have been consistently waking up at 3:00am. Combining lack of sleep, walking for miles, and the altitude here has me worn out pretty early. I'm getting better though. I slept till 6:00am this morning.
