Lessons From The Roof Of The World
There is remembrance of the 9000-plus dead, yet there is an underlying resolve among the people. The dead shall not rise for sure, but the living are not ready for their last rites.
The vase was broken, as the multitude of injured (almost 25,000) will evince albeit in silence, yet the marks of mending are not prominent to the compassionate mind.
A few brick buildings erected over several centuries have crumbled, and the stacks next to a flattened edifice echo their determination not to lose a single piece. Each brick is a reminder of the past they lost and the future it might hold.
Awaiting restoration, many more structures are propped up by steel struts and thick logs, perhaps willpower too, but there is no haste. The cracks in the wall and structure appear to almost belong there.
The spire above some temples, stupas and palaces have been ruffled, a few brought down, but experts work studiously to revive their intricate glory. The devotees bide their time by engaging in other rituals. There is no annoyance.
The entire nation of Nepal has embraced the April 2015 earthquake in dignity.
At Kathmandu's Pashupatinath, one of Nepal's most sacred Hindu temples, a couple of funeral pyres are ablaze, one or two from earlier hours smouldering, but in the shady hillock across the Bagmati River, the incense of cremation reach some amorous young people looking distantly to a future of promise sealed in the day's pledge.
The Bouddhanath Stupa, viewed with great reverence by the Nepalese, reached up to a height of a ten-storied building. Since the recent earthquake, that too is history; the top of the Tibetan stupa is gone. But, there is no space for grievance or anger or acrimony. You can in fact already hear the pigeons humming in serenity as they graze the open ambulatory corridor around the largest Buddhist shrine in the world. Reconstruction work on structure and gold elements, in full view of devotees and visitors, is on. The UNESCO World Heritage Site is already regaining its reputation as one of the most frequented tourist spots.
Bhaktapur Durbar Square, 13 km from the capital, bears great religious significance and is listed as a heritage site by UN. Damage to this 600-year old site was significant; a major temple lost its roof and a sandstone temple (Vatsala Devi) was brought down. Yet in the same vicinity we were served Nepalese thale (traditional spicy meal of rice and curry) by a beaming waiter who brought food from a floor below with spring in his feet. I believe they sense better days are just around the corner.
We did not walk up the 365 steps to the 2000-year old Swayambhunath Stupa, said to be the most important Buddhist shrine in KTM. We took a taxi and a few steps to the top. It was delightful that vendors were peddling Nepalese artefacts at a reasonable price; no sign of quake-o-nomics. Overseen by Buddha's primordial eyes, espousing unity of all things, the main stupa and ancillary shrines are largely intact. I regret, however, not walking all the way up, as I missed some very important areas of history, culture, and Buddhism.
The most famous Kathmandu Durbar Square and the Lalitpur Patan Durbar Square lost several major buildings of architectural magnificence, but the UN heritage sites appear ready to rise from the rubble. Tourists are trickling in. Guides are getting busier. Nepal is almost back on its feet.
As we moved from one place to another in taxis, not a single driver used the ravaging earthquake, which shook the Himalayan country six months ago, as an excuse to hike the price. No shopkeeper mentioned the cataclysm to extort some extra rupees from us foreigners, if I understood them correctly.
For the cynics, their Hindi is as good as mine, and Nepali is almost half-Bangla. I did not have the time or the talent to try any one of the 123 mother tongues that characterises the ethnicity of the land, nor did I have the opportunity to exchange pleasantries with the fifty-nine indigenous nationalities. Or did I?
Over the Eid-ul-Adha vacation, my wife, her father and I visited Kathmundu, a trip I have wanted to take ever since that fateful Saturday afternoon. One of the first things my Architecture students from BUET, Prajwal Hada and Hima Shrestha, now practising in the city of temples, said was that things (after the quake) were never as bad as shown on television.
Eid congregation at the Kashmiri Takia Masjid was heaven-sent. Muslims, men and women, thronged the centuries-old premises. An unknown brother's prayer mat on the rooftop of the four-storied structure allowed me to seek His blessings in a land of religious harmony. The day was a public holiday.
Nepal rising above devastation has reminded me that we all need to practice more patience and tolerance in deed not words, interact with each other more cordially and humbly, and help one another to look forward.
The author is a practising Architect at Basha Bari Ltd., a Commonwealth Scholar and a Fellow in the UK, a Baden-Powell Fellow Scout Leader and a Major Donor Rotarian.
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