My travel diaries
Sunday 27 May, 2007 , part two - Kathmandu, Nepal
We drive away from Lumbini all very much intrigued by this strange place we've just visited. I've not been to other pilgrimage sites such as Jerusalem, Mecca or Lourdes, but I can't imagine they're anything like this. Lumbini was rediscovered by archaeologists as recently as 1896, but Lumbini Development Zone was only begun in 1978. Alongside the two and a half thousand year old ruins, most of the temples are brand new, but beyond this there has been hardly any development at all for a place that is a principal pilgrimage site for one of the world's largest religions. Just a sprinkling of hotels with their own restaurants and a few dozen rickshaw and taxi drivers mark the extent of Lumbini's tourist infrastructure.
In the car we have a comically ill-informed historical discussion. Siling tells me the red ruins were built by Ashoka in the 2 nd century AD and razed by Mughal emperors in the 14 th century. I insist Ashoka ruled much earlier and the Mughal emperors conquered India much later, but my Lonely Planet guide confirms Siling is right about the Mughals, despite my protestations that Lonely Planet must be wrong.
This goes on for some time before we move on to the story of the Buddha's early life. Legend has it there was a prophecy at the time of his birth that he would grow up to be either a great warrior or a great teacher. His father King Suddhodana was so alarmed about the second possibility that he kept his son closeted behind servants and palace walls for all of his childhood so that he would remain ignorant of the great poverty to be found outside. Siling and Uttam then tell the story of how Prince Siddhartha, the future Buddha, discovered suffering.
"When he was fifteen ." says Uttam.
"When he was thirty-one," continues Siling, "he was taken through the streets of the town in a chariot, where he saw in succession a sick man, an elderly man, and a dead body being carried by mourners. He realised that despite his privileged lifestyle, sickness, old age and death are inescapable and come to us all eventually, it doesn't matter how rich or powerful we are. He thought about what he had seen and wondered if there was any way to escape this inevitable suffering. He decided to leave his old life behind, become a hermit and try and find an answer."
This moment of spiritual contemplation is interrupted by Bikram's phone going off.
"In Kathmandu today - strike," he says, upon finishing his conversation with the person at the other end.
I know all about the bundhs (general strikes) which have plagued Nepal ever since the Maoist insurgency began in 1996, having been inconvenienced by them on previous visits here. The Maoists enforce their strikes through terror. Anyone seen working on a day that a strike is called, risks being beaten up or even murdered by Maoist supporters. This is a problem for Bikram if they see him driving us into Kathmandu while the strike is still in force.
However, it's still a surprise to me as I'd understood the Maoists have now abandoned the armed struggle and been integrated into government to pursue their aims by political means. Uttam gets on the phone to one of his contacts in Kathmandu to find out more and learns the strike has been called not by Maoists but by teachers protesting for private teachers to earn the same pay as government teachers. I ask how on earth teachers are able to enforce a general strike across Kathmandu.
"These days, if you have enough money, you can pay for a mob to come and help you," replies Uttam.
"So poorly paid teachers will have paid Maoists to intimidate anyone who breaks their strike," I ask incredulously.
"They may not have paid them," he replies, "but you can bet the Maoists will be supporting it."
The good news for us, however, is the strike is only in force until 5 o'clock tonight, so we just need to take our time today and arrive back in Kathmandu after the strike has ended. I sleep a little more during the drive. Siling keeps taking photos of me nodding off, and sometimes Uttam wakes me up when he thinks I'm going to headbutt the dashboard.
Shortly after 2 o'clock, we stop for coffee at the foot of the Manakamana Cable Car, on the banks of the Trisuli River, about two hours from Kathmandu. On previous drives along the Kathmandu-Pokhara road, I've been intrigued by this ultra modern transport facility ascending incongruously across peasant farmland to the top of a hill on the far side of the river. I learn that the hill is the site of a temple to the Hindu goddess Manakamana Devi, known as the Wish Fulfilling Goddess.
Hindu legend tells how Manakamana was married to the Gorkha King Ram Shah (1614 - 1636 AD). The only person who knew of her divine powers was her follower Lakhan Thapa. After the king's death custom dictated the queen must die by the Hindu tradition of sati , throwing herself onto her husband's funeral pyre. Before she died, she told Lakhan Thapa she would return in a place near her husband's home. Six month's later a farmer ploughing his field hit a stone and saw blood and milk spring from it. When he learned about this Lakhan Thapa blessed the stone and established the temple on its site.
Since the 17 th century, the Manakamana Temple has become a popular Hindu pilgrimage site because of the belief that the goddess blesses devotees who sacrifice livestock to her by fulfilling their wishes. The rewards for devotion have become even easier to obtain since 1998, when the building of the cable car turned a five hour climb on foot into a ten minute pleasure ride above the Trisuli River. I walk over to the ticket office to see how much a devout pilgrim must pay to have their dreams come true. I'm used to seeing a two-tier charging system in Nepal, and am not at all surprised to see that while a Nepali only has to pay 100 rupees for a return ticket, tourists like me must shell out $10. This seems quite reasonable, but it surprises me to learn that it's 120 rupees for a goat, presumably for just a one-way ticket.
The roads into Kathmandu are quite clear because of the strike. We climb about 1000m along switchbacks and hairpins, and arrive there at about 5.30. Bikram's driving becomes more and more erratic the closer we get. While Tina keeps telling him off, Uttam keeps mumbling to him in Nepali, and I suspect that he's telling him to speed up. Whatever, he drives through busy streets like Lewis Hamilton, beeping his horn and overtaking all over the place. I keep quiet, but look forward to the end of the drive. The roads are teeming with pedestrians, and I'm sure somebody's going to get knocked down as Bikram accelerates towards them sounding his horn to get out of the way. Eventually he does one overtaking manoeuvre too many and has to emergency stop on the wrong side of the road. A motorbike drives into the back of him, but the rider is unharmed and both he and Bikram continue on their way as though nothing happened.
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