Burning Ghats and Buddhist Monks

There's a national strike today throughout Nepal, meaning no taxis and no buses running. I'm not sure of the Maoists' political reasons for doing this, but it is a monumental time in history to be in Nepal. The communists elected to power in the first democracy the monarchial nation has known in history, the king moving out of the royal palace and the insurgents moving into the parliment, etc. (I must say I'm pretty ignorant about the whole political situation really.)

Today I really wanted to get out to Bodnath, the Tibetan Buddhist community area outside of Kathmandu City, butwith no buses or taxis I was at a loss of how to get there.

Then inspiration, well actually just dumb common sense struck. Why not rent bicycles? With all the roads empty and the sun shining it made perfect sense! Take advantage of the inconvience rather than fight against it. (Reminded me of something both my Dad and Joey would have thought of (much faster than me) and done.)

So Zak, Emily and I rented some funky mountain bikes and sped out of the city! So exhilirating to be back on a bicycle after months and months. (i think last time i was on a bike was with my Dad in south India in January!!!! YIkes!)
Swerving through the minimal traffic, we headed to Pashupati, probably the holiest Hindu temple sites in all of Nepal. Monkeys lept from one moss covered, stone temple to the next. Walking down to the river we watched a full-on cremation ceremony at the burning ghats. I have not been to Varanasi or other burning ghats in India, so this was my first experience of seeing a body being placed on the pyre. Ghee (butter) is poured onto the body and into the mouth, where it is lit on fire. When a father dies, the oldest son performs the rites; when a mother dies, the youngest son attends the fire. Females don't have much of a part in the tradition. After the body is completely burned to ashes, the ashes are swept off the raised stone platform straight into the river, to be carried to downstream, eventually reaching the Ganges and finally the ocean. Family members who participated in the ceremony shave their heads, strip down and wash themselves in the river afterwards. It was a sombre, culturally fascinating and smoky experience.

After Pushupati Zak and Emily took off for another area of Kathmandu, Patan, while I rode towards Bodnath, which they had visited yesterday. Entering the Bodnath center, I was awed by the enormous white and gold stupa with blue peace-eyes staring down at me and prayer flags radiating in all directions. Spending some time in a cafe/bookshop while it rained outside, i stepped back out into the patchy sunshine a couple hours later to find the entire community of Bodnath circling the stupa, prayer beads in hand and spinning the prayer wheels that line the base of the stupa as they walked in a clockwise direction. I joined the masses, spinning the wheels, trying to keep up with the monks in their maroon and gold robes and the little old Tibetan ladies in their striped aprons.

Sitting to the side momentarily I snapped photos as causually and unobtrusively as I could as the crowd walked by. Looking away as my finger pressed the button resulted in some missed photos as well as some surprisingly capturing ones. Contentedly I watched, participated when I felt inclined, and enjoyed being surrounded by Tibetans since I won't have the opportunity to visit their troubled country while I am on this side of the world and comparitively so close.

What a full day of both Hinduism and Buddhism I thought, smiling, as I rode back into Kathmandu, passing motorcycles and swerving cycle rickshaws.