After visiting Bhaktapur, we got into our hired vehicle and ventured back to Kathmandu. Not far from the airport is Pashupati and the Pashupatinath Temple. This is considered one of the most sacred Hindu temples in Nepal and is located on the Bagmati River.
What makes this place so significant is it’s involvement in one’s death. Or rather, one’s funeral. Not long after someone passes away, often within a couple hours, they are brought to Pashupati and cleansed in the Bagmati River by family members. The cleansing is literal, with water washing the body, and also figurative, with the cleansing of earthly belonging. Shirts, pants and shoes are tossed into the river as part of this process.
Once the body has been cleansed, it is covered in orange and white cloth and laid on a cement slab. A ritual is performed, where family members circle the body and kiss the feet. Once this has been completed, the body is set on fire. The ashes are then pushed into the river, and the next body is set atop the slab.
The closer we got to the temple, the heavier the smoke became. I know me personally, at first glance, cocked my head to the side like a confused dog. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at – it was as though my brain couldn’t make sense of the scene. But as we stood watching, what was really occurring starting to hit me in the gut, and hard.
We saw one family from almost the beginning – the body was laid on the concrete slab and the ritual began. The (I am assuming) sons and grandsons walked around the body a few times and kissed the feet. But one man in particular then collapsed into a pile of sobs, grabbing onto another family member with every ounce of strength. That was when I felt the wind knocked out of me. What we were watching was publicly displayed agony, sorrow, tears. My eyes welled up and I had to look away. The smoke smell started to make me gag. Not because it was putrid, but because it was such an obvious marking of what was happening.
We continued on to the other parts of the temple, but I couldn’t really look at much more. After watching the man sob in pain, I myself went numb and couldn’t register things. That includes the little asshole monkeys that basically lived at Pashupati, throwing food and chasing each other.
Even though I knew my religious beliefs were different than theirs, I prayed so hard for those that passed, but more so for their grieving families.
We left not long after I took these photos.
Leave a Reply