(84) Beggars, Salesmen, and a Goddess

We spent a lot of time checking out various shops and distributors of merchandise we could buy and resale at markets in the States. One old stuffy shop in particular was very interesting. As we first arrived, the owner watched us carefully as we looked through the normal trinkets on display for the tourists. There were some nice singing bowls that were compelling. Noticing this was not the type of items we were looking for, he approached us. “I can see that you have different tastes than most of the other tourists. Please, come with me and I will show you something more to your liking,” he said with a grin.

Treasures

As was our typical reply, “Why not?” We followed him to the back of the shop and up the narrow steps to the next floor. Meagerly lit with a very high ceiling, the wooden room had a musty odor. Objects hung from the rafters. Cluttered piles of hand woven material and strange objects filled the room. He led us through the maze to a small cabinet with drawers overflowing with Nepalese tribal necklaces adorned with old coins and prayer cylinders made of silver. 

“These are very old and difficult to find anymore. They belonged to the Sherpa mountain tribes,” the shop keeper told us. The coins were indeed old. Some even dated to the late 19th century. The necklace of Rana Tharu tribe from South Western Nepal looked like little silver bullets strung together.

He was right, these items were certainly more interesting. We negotiated a price with him, buying several of each specimen. We even bought a few singing bowls, and some strings of old bells from him before we left.

Through the Portal

Back to Freak Street and our guesthouse, we stepped through the small door out of the chaos and into  the silence of the low tunnel that led to the front desk and stairs to our floor. Up the steep, narrow stairs we arrived to our room and stashed our treasures away. We lay on the bed looking out the window. After a little rest, we headed back down the narrow stairs, through the low ceilinged tunnel, and through the portal. Freak Street was as loud and chaotic as it always is. 

Stumping Salesmen

We were accosted immediately by beggars and sales people hawking their wares. “Hello? Greetings! I have something special for you,” a seller called out. A beggar grunted at us, holding out one hand with the other thrusting repeatedly toward his mouth. “Ung, ungh, ugh.” We walked quickly in the direction of Durbar Square. One seller was chasing after us calling out, “Backgammon, backgammon!” 

Donna spun around, looking directly at him, and replied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to play with you right now. Maybe we can play later!” 

The seller stopped and looked at her confused. Donna spun back around and we continued walking, leaving the seller still frozen in a confused state.

A seller we saw regularly called out, “What do you want? I can get you anything that you are looking for! I just want to be your friend!” So, Donna turned toward him, looking upward in deep thought, and said, “I know what I would like you to find for me!”

“What do you desire? I can find it for you,” he asked in all hopefulness to finally be of service.

“I would like…” she paused, “a black velvet Elvis!”

He looked completely lost while trying to not only figure out what a black velvet Elvis was, but also where he could find one. She was getting really good at stunning the sellers. “Come back to me once you have it,” she said. We turned and walked on leaving him in a deep stupor.

“I think you broke him,” I said as we left him standing there.

Kumari Devi, The Living Goddess

Today, on our walk, we had a particular destination. Today we were going to see the living goddess, known as Kumari. Imagine a prepubescent girl selected from the Shakya clan of the Nepalese Newari Buddhist community, who is believed to be the human embodiment of the divine female energy. 

This isn’t a fairytale, but a real practice in Nepal where the chosen Kumari lives in a special palace in Kathmandu and is revered by people of all walks of life. Her life is quite different from other kids: instead of going to school or playing outside with friends, she participates in various ceremonies and blesses the people who come to see her. 

The selection process for the Kumari is rigorous, searching for a girl who possesses specific physical features and qualities. She must be in excellent health, never have shed blood or been afflicted by any diseases, be without blemish, and must not have yet lost any teeth. Girls who pass these basic eligibility requirements are examined for the thirty-two perfections of a goddess. What’s fascinating is that she remains a goddess until she reaches puberty, the goddess spirit is believed to leave her body, and a new girl is chosen to take her place.  

Kumari Ghar

We approached the Kumari Ghar, house of the Living Goddess, Kumari,  located on the southern side of Durbar Square. As we walked through the entrance into the courtyard, we found ourselves to be the only visitors at that time. The house itself is pretty old and impressive, with carved wooden windows and beautifully detailed designs. It’s a peaceful place. I found a small intricate piece of one of the window carvings on the ground. Someone else may have been tempted to keep it as a souvenir. I placed it on the window seal and hoped for the best.

Only a minute later we were lucky to catch a glimpse of the Kumari, dressed in red and gold, as she appeared briefly at the latticed windows on the third floor. We were very lucky since most people never see her except when she is paraded about at a festival. Having read about her, we felt a little sad that her life as a child was devoid of any pleasure. She can not show emotion. In fact, her eyes seemed dead to us. One day she would no longer be a goddess.

A few days later we discovered that there was a festival she would be attending. We raced through the portal back into the chaotic world and made our way to the festival. Arriving at virtually the same time as the goddess, we were mere feet away from her as her Kumarimi, as they are called, carried her around the festival in her golden palanquin. Everybody rushed to see her, praising the goddess as she passed. After the brief tour of the grounds, they parked her under a tree, basically alone. Devoid of any expression, she remained there until they eventually took her home.

I found an article about the life of being a goddess and her life afterwards. “I was a living goddess”
Also this WiKi page is very interesting going into deeper detail about the Kumari.

Next: Final Days in Kathmandu