The Land where Buddha and Yodha ... (Part 1)
Siddhartha Gautama was born in a land called Lumbini which falls today under the UNESCO heritage site in the western province of Rupandehi District in Nepal. Though my journey was not to the exact site, my first trip to the land of Buddha was to Kathmandu, the capital city of Nepal.
The first thoughts of Nepal just brought back the memories of the classic movie Yodha, by Sangeeth Sivan. Akosotto, Unikuttan, Kuttymama, Dolma Ammayi, Achothi and Ambattan.... and the music of AR Rahman lingered as I got down at the Thribhuvan airport in Kathmandu. Many spaces seemed familiar as any Malayali would have enjoyed the movie Yodha, which was released 25 years ago. The knowledge of Hindi and Indian currency, which the locals refer to as IC would do to spend a few days in vacation there.
The journey to Kathmandu was made difficult by my official name as the system found it hard to digest such a long name - "Krishnan Ayilur Venugopalan MR". The moment I landed I saw the place where Asokan (Lalettan) lost his luggage, and for a difference I let loose and lost my stress.
The valley has its own beauty, its simplicity. I saw happy faces which resembled an amalgamation of Indian and the Chinese race. I am sure the races were formed much before the boundaries and ideologies.
No one seems to be bothered with the spell checks as a few boards made no sense when I applied my logical mind, but made more sense when I applied my heart to it. The Hotel I stayed was at a place called Pingalstan Gaushala. And the name of the hotel was itself intriguing - Amadablam. The name Amadablam is the local name for The Big Mountain or the Mount Everest itself. Heard that you can take a flight to see the mountain from the top.
The afternoon was a prep for my visit to the Bagmati River near Pashupathinath Temple in the evening. The River Bagmati, had a charm of her own. The flow was different the next day after the rains, but in the evening, She was silent and steady, murky with the sand she carried in her on her way down the valley. The sunset and the nightfall added special hues to the valley. The walkways had monkeys to greet me... no... it was not a family matter... but out of courtesy of the valley.
The intricate work on the temple windows and the old dwellings on the way kindled a fire of interest in knowing more. I first saw a convention hall on my way from the hotel where I stayed having a religious meet. The religious fervour at the congregations happening there had no sign of the frenzy as I have seen in India. Peace prevails in the valley... I wish it was so in every part of the world.
Every few steps there was a place of worship and people were paying their prayers. Faith and business coexisted around the temple and the shops had Rudraksha, Shaligram, Spatika, and conches & idols of many shapes and sizes. The walk to the river bank itself a relaxing one, as much as the aarati was.
By the banks of river Bagmati, people had already assembled to have a glimpse of the Maha Aarati done every evening. For a change the singer who started the bhajans sounded sweet and melodious. The singing and the music took a few to a frenzy of dancing .... as if they were directly conversing with Pashupathinath himself. They seemed to have lost the ego or the awareness of self and went on to dance in groups, as others watched in faith.
As the practice goes, the traditional aarati has the dhoop (frankinscence), deep (oil wicked lamps) and the karpoora (Camphor) with the backing of bells, conches and drum beats. It was divinlely appealing as I sat on the steps on the opposite side of the bank where the aarati was being performed.
The Flowing river, the singing, the aarati, the evening was blessed. I felt as if the valley was a mother who took all in her arms in a sweet hug and telling in a hushed voice that she was there to take care of you...
The first thoughts of Nepal just brought back the memories of the classic movie Yodha, by Sangeeth Sivan. Akosotto, Unikuttan, Kuttymama, Dolma Ammayi, Achothi and Ambattan.... and the music of AR Rahman lingered as I got down at the Thribhuvan airport in Kathmandu. Many spaces seemed familiar as any Malayali would have enjoyed the movie Yodha, which was released 25 years ago. The knowledge of Hindi and Indian currency, which the locals refer to as IC would do to spend a few days in vacation there.
The journey to Kathmandu was made difficult by my official name as the system found it hard to digest such a long name - "Krishnan Ayilur Venugopalan MR". The moment I landed I saw the place where Asokan (Lalettan) lost his luggage, and for a difference I let loose and lost my stress.The valley has its own beauty, its simplicity. I saw happy faces which resembled an amalgamation of Indian and the Chinese race. I am sure the races were formed much before the boundaries and ideologies.
No one seems to be bothered with the spell checks as a few boards made no sense when I applied my logical mind, but made more sense when I applied my heart to it. The Hotel I stayed was at a place called Pingalstan Gaushala. And the name of the hotel was itself intriguing - Amadablam. The name Amadablam is the local name for The Big Mountain or the Mount Everest itself. Heard that you can take a flight to see the mountain from the top.
The intricate work on the temple windows and the old dwellings on the way kindled a fire of interest in knowing more. I first saw a convention hall on my way from the hotel where I stayed having a religious meet. The religious fervour at the congregations happening there had no sign of the frenzy as I have seen in India. Peace prevails in the valley... I wish it was so in every part of the world.Every few steps there was a place of worship and people were paying their prayers. Faith and business coexisted around the temple and the shops had Rudraksha, Shaligram, Spatika, and conches & idols of many shapes and sizes. The walk to the river bank itself a relaxing one, as much as the aarati was.
By the banks of river Bagmati, people had already assembled to have a glimpse of the Maha Aarati done every evening. For a change the singer who started the bhajans sounded sweet and melodious. The singing and the music took a few to a frenzy of dancing .... as if they were directly conversing with Pashupathinath himself. They seemed to have lost the ego or the awareness of self and went on to dance in groups, as others watched in faith.
As the practice goes, the traditional aarati has the dhoop (frankinscence), deep (oil wicked lamps) and the karpoora (Camphor) with the backing of bells, conches and drum beats. It was divinlely appealing as I sat on the steps on the opposite side of the bank where the aarati was being performed.
The Flowing river, the singing, the aarati, the evening was blessed. I felt as if the valley was a mother who took all in her arms in a sweet hug and telling in a hushed voice that she was there to take care of you...
River Bagmati beside Pasupathinath Temple
The Maha aarati begins
The poojari in prayers before the aarati
Devotees assembled to seek blessings
The selfless dancers in conversation with Mahadev
The slight drizzle left no impact on the people who were there to see the aarati and the shouts in unison of "Har Har Mahadev", the bells the conch and the sights and sounds will remain with me for a very long time for sure.... Will need to write more about the beautiful moments I spent in the land of Buddha... rest in my next.... Till then ... Keep smiling....
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