Enigmatic Monuments

ECS

Text by : Moheindu Chemjong
Photographer : kishor kayastha

When the humdrum blues of daily existence starts to take over…When you feel the need to acknowledge your place in the Universe or catch God’s whisper…Or when you feel the need to re-discover your human spirit, I would say, “Indulge.” For a change, overindulge yourselves in the magical splendor of the marvelous, timeless, holy monuments of the Kathmandu Valley! I promise you a few hours of enchanted hypnosis!

If you are looking to quench your soul’s thirst like myself, I would recommend early mornings or early evenings. But if it’s just beauty that you are seeking in these famous symbols of the ancient Nepali civilization, you might as well let your heart decide the timing! Whether it’s the Pashupatinath temple, Swoyambhunath and the Dharahara in the Kathmandu Valley or the Changu Narayan temple in Bhaktapur or the Patan Durbar Square in Patan, you cannot escape the overwhelming touch of tranquility, the affluence of exotic spirituality, the extravagances of Nepali art and culture, and the lavishness of the rich and elaborate Nepali history.

In the early hush of the morning or in the evenings when Kathmandu draws her curtains to welcome another evening, these magical monuments draw worshippers and visitors alike to their bosoms. A few weeks ago, I, too decided to join the line. I luxuriated in the wait with flowers, fruits, incense and other offerings in my hands and as I waited, my heart was overcome by a certain rush of joy and peace.  My nostrils were delighted to the confluence of juniper and sandalwood fumes! I got totally mesmerized in the fumes and the lights of the diyas, butter lamps burnt and lighted by the worshippers ahead of me.

The sweet morning breeze and the ecstatic pigeons in hundreds joined me in reverent rhythms. Besides this vision of delight, I joined the worshippers in chants and prayers! When I heard the temple bells ring, the ambience was a world apart-I could sense pride, pain and other follies of life, exchange places with the seeds of warmth, verses of peace and urns of compassion. After offering prayers and getting blessings from the Gods, the worshippers learnt to practice their prayers, to serve, to help and show compassion by offering money, food and clothes to the beggars who sit on the temple courtyards and pray for kindness to be showered upon them.

In Swoyambhunath and other Buddhist shrines, the worshippers carried prayer wheels in their hands and many of them circumambulated in God’s name. Here, the prayer flags in tassels of bright hues added to that spiritual splendor and helped evoke the glorious, benevolent mélange of feelings, of modesty, of wonder, of self-realization and of  humility. In the throes of Compassion and Jubilation, you might feel you’re on the pavilions of the Gods!

When I’m immersed in the beautiful geometric vibrancy of these ancient monuments, I can’t help think that Lord Brahma might have consulted some other Gods before creating the Nepali race! After He created us, the Buddhist Gods of compassion, Awalokiteshwara and Chakwa Dyo must have filled our hearts with immense love, overflowing compassion and the holy lessons of good karma. When I look at the monuments, I am convinced that Saraswati, the Goddess of Fine Arts has blessed us and also endowed us with an innate aesthetic sense and hence, these pieces of art and beauty!

In Kathmandu Valley, UNESCO’s world heritage site, Vishnu, the God of Preservation, too seems to have touched us for many of us consider it our duty to work towards the preservation of these sites. Besides the kenso satori moments mentioned above, these holy shrines, temples,  and edifices of extraordinary power are also a blissful, visual retreat! Each of them has a very unique and distinctive style. Each carries in them the stories of the various dynasties from the Kirants to the contemporary rulers that ruled over Nepal and the mythologies of the existence of these very monuments.

From the enigmatic architecture to the ornamented stonework, exquisite woodcarvings, the beautiful sculptures, they all emaciate the heavenly essence of the Nepali philosophy of love, peace and compassion, and the harmonious fusion of the Hindu and Buddhist influences. They are indeed a celebration to the testimony of the rich culture and heritage of Nepal! Your purpose might have been spirituality. Your purpose might have been beauty. Like my colleague’s photographs which have given a completely new dimension in doubles, my fulfillment out of this visit also came in double digits.

Not only did I soak in the beauty and spiritual bliss, I also learnt a lesson of a life time. If our ancestors wanted to monere (Latin root word for monument), I would say their aspirations have come true. At that very divine moment, my favorite author Ralph Waldo Emerson’s philosophic statement, “The purpose of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well,” burst into appearance…..I caught God’s whisper and re-discovered my spirit!

Ropai

A stranger I met on the train once told me, “Sweetheart, always paint the walls of your heart with many beautiful pictures.” Today as I came home, I realized that I have done just that — for today I tasted a slice of paradise, another art form, the timeless art of ropai!

Come this marvelous monsoon season of Ashad and the Gods above bless Nepal with sweet summer and Nepali hearts are filled with the spirits of endeavor and aspiration. When the rain begins to pour, the Nepali farmers are smitten by the ropai bug- the time to work magic on the paddy fields. On the chosen day when a farmer decides to plant the paddy seedlings, relatives and friends are invited from far and wide, near and next door to play parma, the practice of helping others so that they will also help you some day, in order to help plant the seedlings – those precious seedlings that sustain life as a staple food for the entire year and a source of income, those seedlings of hope, compassion and life.

The day began with the latheys, gentlemen, ploughing the fields and leveling the deep layers of mud, moistened by the downpours of the day before. I began by soaking in the beauty of the hills that surrounded us in the summer splendor. The bluish skies pregnant with heavy rain droplets and the feelings of camaraderie amongst the ropai artists filled me with animated feelings of wonder and ecstasy. After the men played their parts, I, with the other ladies stepped on the velvety brown carpets of mother earth! The ladies including myself changed roles between the byares, who hand the seedlings that were earlier grown in trays and the ropareys, who do the actual task of planting the seedlings. I felt I was in a dream — a human who’d always lived among people who have embraced the sensational phenomenon of ropai all their lives but had never tried to understand them, a soul who had religiously been visiting mud-soak spas in foreign lands but had never let my pedicured feet ever touch the religious grounds of my own motherland!

And as we planted the paddy seedlings, my work colleagues and friends for the day began swooning choirs of emotions. I was awfully distracted in my work but I couldn’t help enjoying their dohoris as we all planted the seedlings of hope, motherhood, tolerance and life. The melodies carried a profusion of emotions of love between lovers, sisters and admirers, of the apparent simplicity of their lives, of the tragedies that had taken place in their lives and of unfulfilled desires and wishes. I got totally mesmerized and totally besotted by their simple thinking, their super simple ways, their conspicuous buoyancy of life and their ability to be happy with what they have.

When the steamy humidity of the summer’s day enveloped us, one of the ropareys handed us masala, sweet somethings which comprised of lollies, cardamom, cloves and betle nuts to break the monotony or shall I say to burnish the straightforwardness of this centuries old art? As hours went by and this aesthetic orgy continued, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters did not refrain from expressing their overflowing affection towards their younger ones, while some men relaxed on ‘gaida’ cigarettes.

Time and again, the slight hint of drizzle would tantalize and tease us. At 2pm, we decided to take a lunch break. We savored chiura, aloo tarkari, khasi tarkari and golveda ko aachar, to name a few. The choice of dishes wasn’t eclectic and I was sharing a plate with folks who were strangers to me till a few hours ago, but the experience was no lesser than a fine-dining experience with my favorite people. To be honest, the pleasure of simple dining left me completely satisfied! We resumed work after lunch and this time, I was taken into confidence and told the secrets and stories. I learnt the misery of a young lady who had been forced out of her own home for her better-half had left home for good. I learnt of a 62 year lady’s chyang business. I learnt of the joys of a mother whose adventurous, prodigal son who had left for Bahrain and had come back home for good. Such is the magical power of love of the motherland and the charm of ropai!

As our day’s work came to an end, it was time for fun, time to add the icing on the cake! It was time to shed all inhibitions, to forget ourselves and to dive in the flurry of the mud baths. Some of us, especially myself had really been looking forward to this. Hari’s accidental fall when trying to tease Rajan marked the beginning of the mud fight. Rajan began by grabbing mud and throwing it at the ladies. We, the ladies were equally sporty and adventurous when it came to healthy competition! The beautiful setting evening sun and the light drizzle added glamour to our magical game. We splattered one another with mud and started chasing the men around. There was mud and water all over, everyone was covered in mud from head to toe and there was a roar of pure laughter and sheer delight in the air. For those few hours, I felt we were really the children of the Universe, playing with and on her bounty with only happiness and joy on our minds!

When the mud frenzy came to an end, all of us posed for the photographer’s collection. Evening came and we had to hurry back home. We parted with the promises of meeting again. Only when I said goodbye to everyone, did I realize that I had fallen victim to a beautiful trance today – that of aesthetic ropai, of extravagant camaraderie and that of world class simplicity.

When I went to bed that night, I slowly relished those magnificent pictures, exquisite emotions and the religious lessons of ropai! Yes, stranger, you can come and check out the paintings on my heart right now...