A Day of Wonder: Pashupatinath Temple in Kathmandu

Kathmandu, Nepal
November 14, 2012
Altitude: 4,445'

It was my first full day in Kathmandu and I was sitting of the wide-tiered steps facing the 6th century temple of Pashupatinath--the most revered Hindu temple in Nepal and a powerhouse of Hundu spiritual power.  Across the fetid and polluted Bagmati River I was watching two families prepare their loved ones for open-air cremation.  As filthy as the River was, this river is extremely sacred and it is to Nepal what the Ganges is to India and it is considered a spiritual powerhouse for Nepali Hindus and, to a lesser extent, Buddhists. For devotees of Shiva, this is the place that most choose to be cremated.  Cremations run non-stop--through the day and night and at any given time one can watching five or six simultaneously, all at different stages. The ghats--the stone platforms for burning--are separated by a walk bridge.  The ghats directly in front of the temple are reserved for the royal family, but preparation for anyone can take place there, but the body would then be moved to one of the nine ghats on the other side.

Both of these people had just died.  Cremation occurs directly after death.  There would be no calling hours, no funeral in the Western sense of a funeral.  All rituals take place during the preparation prior to the cremation.

First to arrive was a Hindu family,and it is with this family that I will focus this writing.  The body arrived wrapped in a blanket. I was sitting with two women and their guide, and they were more than willing to allow me to ask their guide questions.  We were all fascinated and would watch the entire process.  The guide assumed the man had died at home.  This is an option,but there is also a hospice attached to the temple,and people are often brought there in the final stages so they can die close to the temple and close to the river.

Over a period  of about an hour, friends and family arrived.  One by one, these people placed a saffron colored piece of fabric over the body. Many did this.  The body was then lifted and placed, feet first, on a sloping stone.  The feet were submerged int he Bagmati River and people often scooped up water and poured it on the face of the deceased, washed its feet or sprinkled it on the saffron fabric. The guide told us that the deceased person's sins were being cleansed by Gaga--the Hindu goddess of water.  All of this was done to purify the body as well as the soul.  Prior to this, a jug of milk had been poured on the slab.  This was very confusing to us, but the guide explained that the milk had been blessed in the temple and represented the god Shiva.

At one point water--possibly brought from the Ganges in India, was poured into the mouth of deceased.

On top of the multiple layers of saffron fabric, people began to put long garlands of marigolds, wrapping them around the head which was always exposed.  Many, many garlands were placed on the body.  All the time, people mingled. Others place flower petals on the fabric and on top of the garlands. Some sat by the body which was still laying on the sloping slab, feet submerged in the water.  All the while men circled the body with incense and, at times, they appeared to be praying.

After about an hour, the body was placed on a wooden bier and lifted by a group of about eight men and carried away from the temple to the ghats where cremation would occur.  Friends and family followed.  By now, numbers had swelled to about 50 or or more people.  The guide told us that the work place is very flexible when a death occurs. Because all of this occurred just after the death, in some cases people had to be notified and leave work rather suddenly.

This was our cue to shift sides.

Each ghat had a cremation in process.  Some had just begun and others were in the final stages where there was but a small pile of ash.  The guide told us that the entire process could take four to five hours.

The pyre had been prepared in advance.  Two long pieces of wood were placed lengthwise on the ghat.  Eight smaller pieces of wood were placed horizontally with two more longer pieces on top of them.  Below the pyre were thick bundles of straw.

The men carrying the bier circled the pyre three times. before placing the body on top of the pyre.  Now, one by one, the garlands of marigolds and the the multiples layers of saffron fabric were removed.  All were thrown into the river.  At that point, one of the women present threw bangles on the white-shrouded body.  The guide told this was his wife, signifying the end of the marriage.

Large bottles of ghee--clarified butter--were opened and slabs of the thick fat were lathered on the body with a knife. This was not only an offering to the gods, but a type of fuel as well.

A straw torch in flames was brought from the temple to start the actual cremation.  This task fell to the eldest son, and if there was no son, a nephew or oldest male relative.  By now, the body was covered in straw and no evidence could be seen of a body, thus providing dignity for the one being cremated.

Within a short time the first spread to all corners of the pyre.  It was then that the majority left, including all of the women.  The remainder of the job fell to the men in the family. Only some would stay until the very end.

I asked the guide if public cremation was the norm and he explained that electric crematoriums were available, but from a religious point of view they are rarely used.  The soul needed to be properly released, and It can only be done so in public.

I lingered a bit longer.  The women I was with left.  I did walk closer to watch the final stages of another cremation.  Once the fire had burned down, and only ashes remained, all was swept into the river.  Then the ghat was cleaned and made ready for another cremation.  All of this was done in a cool, businesslike fashion, although I'm sure there was far more emotion involved than we could see.

By late afternoon storm clouds had been building on Kathmandu and I left the burning ghats when a light misty rain began to fall.  Pasupatinath is more than a crematory.  I climbed the many steps above the river, past complexes of temples decorated with skeletons and erotic figures, past sadhus--holy men--quite willing to pose for a photo for the right price.  Monkeys darted back and forth and up and down the steps.

At the top of the temple complex I found a seat under the canopy of one of the 50 Shiva shrines at the edge of a forest.  I waited out this very rare mid-November rainfall. Perhaps the rain would clean out the dirty air.

It certainly wasn't unpleasant, what with the monkeys scampering about and children asking me for rupees, sweets or pens.


But it was getting dark, and whether real or imagined the smell of burning wood, and possible burning flesh, lingered in my nostrils.  It had certainly permeated my clothing.

After the rain let up I made my way down to the streets, caught a cab and returned to Thamel.

I threw my clothes in a plastic bag, showered, handed my dirty laundry to reception and set out for dinner.

But the images of both cremations, all the rituals involved and the power of watching multiple cremations along the sacred Bagmati River had left their mark.

It had been a rare and unusual day and I felt privileged to be part of it.