‘Let’s go somewhere we’re never likely to go back to.’
Like all the best ideas, that was how it started. Just an off-the-cuff conversation about changing our pretty routine holiday choice.
We’d been going to the same sort of places for years, pretty typical European tourist spots in Portugal, Spain and France, so we thought it would be a good idea to go somewhere completely different.
And that was what led us to Nepal. We looked online and saw an organised tour of Nepal for 12 days on TripAdvisor. We checked out the itinerary and after deciding to upgrade our hotel ( thank goodness, no offence to Nepal but three stars in Kathmandu is not anything like three stars here).
In February we were off. After being picked up from the airport we were heading to our ( 5 star) hotel and as we were stuck in traffic, not uncommon for anyone who has ever been to Kathmandu, it’s a wonder anything ever gets done, ours eyes were caught by an impressive group of temples. We enquired what they were and were told by our guide it was the Pashupatinath Temple ( https://www.welcomenepal.com/places-to-see/pashupatinath.html ) the largest temple complex in Nepal. It straddles the sacred Bagmati River and it is here, on raised platforms, at this UNESCO Cultural Heritage site that open air cremations take place every day.
My curiosity was well and truly piqued and we decided that when we had a free day we would make our way to the temple to witness the ceremony.
After 10 days of touring and seeing some astonishing sights we returned to Kathmandu and had a free day, so we decided to walk from our hotel to the temple. We had been reliably informed by our guide that it was a walk of about 35 minutes.
One hour and 20 minutes later, after touring various Kathamandu back streets we arrived, dusty and thirsty and entered the temple complex.
Frankly, nothing had prepared us for what we were to witness. On a raised pyre, one of several, by the river’s edge, a man in a white apron steadily built up a funeral pyre underneath a platform, stuffing it with twigs and logs as if a Sunday afternoon barbeque was being prepared.
When the pyre was prepared, family members emerged carrying the deceased, wrapped in orange cloth, at shoulder height on a wooden stretcher. The deceased was then placed carefully onto the platform and any clothing was removed with a cloth held up to maintain dignity.
A family member, presumably the next-of-kin or senior family member circled the platform several times, strips of orange cloth were removed and tied to the poles supporting the roof of the shelter that the pyre lay under.Then the family retreated and the fire was lit.
As the flames burnt the dead body, we were struck by how quiet the mourners were. The whole ceremony took place with in an alarmingly ( to us) matter-of-fact manner. There was no sadness, no tears and seemingly no grief-stricken relatives that we are so familiar with in the West.
Of course, as a predominantly Hindu nation, the Nepalese attitude to death is as far removed from the western view as possible. To Hindus, life and death are both part of what they call ‘maya’, a grand illusion; Hindus believe that when a soul dies, it gets born into a new body. The cycle of death and rebirth — ‘samsara’ — ends only when a soul realizes its true nature — indistinguishable from the absolute godhead, which Hindus call Brahman.
And so, this devout belief system in a life after death softens the blow of losing a loved one.They may never be replaced but there is a confidence that their soul will live on elsewhere. There is much to be applauded in such a strong religious belief system that salves the pain of the death of a loved one and can go some way towards giving a meaning to life.
From the point of view of a celebrant, I felt hugely privileged to have witnessed the rituals of cremation from another culture and religion. It was, like the whole of the trip, utterly spell-binding and eye-opening. An experience that will live with me forever.