Getting spiritual...

Kopan Monastery is as a monastery should be – peaceful, spiritual and high above the towns and villages in the valley below. We held our breath at every twist and turn that our taxi had a decent hand brake and finally we were there. Since Saturday is the monks’ holiday we did not get to witness any of their services or rituals. Instead we caught the monks at a time of play and relaxation, allowing us to speak with them as fellow humans and hear about their lives at the monastery, rather than viewing them as higher beings with no connection to us as visitors. Seeing the young monks of eight or ten years old playing board games as exuberantly as any other child was a delightful insight into the usually elusive daily life inside a monastery. Unfortunately Kartal’s request to photograph the llama (the chosen one) for his exhibition for UNICEF was refused by the head monk so he had to make do with covertly snapping young monks as they passed by.

Continuing the Buddhist theme our next destination was the Tibetan centre of Bodhnath, a district centred around its imposing and beautiful stupa (Buddhist temple). The square where the stupa resides is buzzing with life while maintaining a sense of calming repose. Thousands of pilgrims gather daily to walk clockwise round the stupa, spinning prayer wheels and chanting mantras. Photos cannot do the atmosphere justice and neither can my words. It is a great place for people watching and self-reflection.

Having wandered the streets of Bodhnath, speaking with (and photographing!) some locals, we headed off to Pashputinath, a Hindu temple on the banks of the Bagmati River. This is where the dead are cremated so I prepared myself for a sombre scene. It was the first time I have seen a real life dead body, albeit from afar, and it affected me greatly. Kartal said it was the first time he had seen me still and silent for that long so that’s saying something! Watching a funeral you have no relation to is a strange experience too. I was torn between feelings of fascination at the rituals and traditions I was seeing, empathy and sadness for the mourning families, and a sense of voyeurism for sitting with crowds of other spectators while friends and relatives watched their loved ones turn into ashes. Many of these spectators were fellow Nepalis though, so it was not a touristic spectacle, more like an observational ritual, shared with the funeral party. The process is long but dignified, and I think I like that the body is open to be seen by its relatives for the last time, rather than hidden away in a coffin as if death is contagious and a social taboo.

Around this holy site are various Sadus, or holy men, who have left their families to follow a life of spirituality and learning. They rub the ashes of the dead on their bodies and sit still for hours and hours a day. They are of course a tourist attraction as a result, and capitalise on this by asking for money in exchange for photographs. My Turkish friend Kartal had spent four hours with these Sadus in this spot a few days earlier, and was greeted with familiarity and warmth. We paid our dues to them and in exchange got free reign of photography, snapping away unfettered while others looked on in fascination. A particularly surreal moment in all this was Kartal directing the “chief” or teacher Sadu to sit in certain poses, look in different directions, and basically become a living model for him. We ended up with some fantastically intimate shots that I never would have dared to get without my gregarious Turk on hand! Unfortunately he headed to India the next day so I must continue my photo apprenticeship alone from now on. And so I will!