Maha Shivaratri

This past Monday was the festival to celebrate Shiva's birthday.  I went to Pashupati, the most important Hindu temple in Nepal, to soak up the atmosphere.  But first I had to get in, and that meant an hour working my way through this crowd:

It was worth the trouble.  Once inside, there was plenty to see.  As a non-Hindu, I was not allowed inside the main temple.  Due to the crowds, I couldn't even get near it.  The following is a photo from across the banks of the Bagmati River.  Note the queue of people waiting to pray there.  I spoke to some who said it took them more than four hours to get in.  The main Pashupati temple is the tall one in the middle background. 
The Bagmati is a holy river and a very popular place for cremations.  One is hit immediately by the smokiness in the air, the smell of burning and the flames on the row of ghats (cremation platforms) along the bank.  It's not as unpleasant as it might sound; the only part that gave me the momentary shivers was the sight of a body bag waiting its turn.

On the bank of the river across from the main temple complex, the Sadhus gathered.  These wandering Hindu holy men, who renounce everything for a life of austerity, make pilgrimage in their thousands from all over Nepal and India to Pashupati for the festival, and equal numbers, if not more, turn up to look at them.  They are indeed quite a sight, with their floor-length hair, painted bodies and near (or sometimes actual) nakedness.  They also smoke and sell weed and many join them.  The aroma is quite overwhelming.

I had a guide, who I sensed was not as informative as he might have been, but was nevertheless good at navigating through crowds and was able to take me to a couple of places I wouldn't have made otherwise.  One of them, the only welfare centre in Nepal, was particularly sobering.  It is a place for the truly destitute local elderly.  Whilst we were there, the residents were being entertained by a group of local and foreign volunteers singing and dancing, but there was no mistaking the awfulness of ending up living there.  That said, Pashupati is considered a particularly holy place to die, so I guess that's a plus, if you believe it.

Back in the main temple complex and along the bank, the festivities were due to continue all night, with singing and dancing for many hours to come.  Apparently the place is also beautiful lit-up.  But by five, after nearly three hours, I'd had my fill.  Although it was a fascinating experience, as a non-Hindu it was impossible for me to really get into the vibe.  There was no escaping the feeling of being so obviously a tourist, particularly when a 'holy' man gave me a tika (a red spot on the forehead), despite my protestations, then demanded a donation and became quite hostile when I refused to give it.  That was the only actual unpleasant moment.  Overall, I'm very glad I went.  It was yet another chance to experience something so distant to my 'normal' life, and what's a gap year for if not that?