Lying on either side of the sacred Bagmati River, Pashupati is one of Kathmandu's holiest Hindu temple complexes. Cremations are performed on the river banks daily, and I must say, witnessing one certainly makes you ponder impermanence, and the fragility of life. Pashupati is a beautiful but strange place— I'm not sure why, but I felt a distinct unease whilst walking around the complex— a sort of pressure on my nerves. Perhaps it was the closeness of death, or the heavy history of grief that seems to have soaked into the soil, and moves with the trees. When I later mentioned this to Lama S.T. , he merely grinned and nodded his head.
6 comments:
i really enjoy your photos...you really seem to capture the magic of your surroundings! keep on posting them :)
Thank you so much, Lisa!
I'm thinking how much Montreal could do with such colors in midwinter! And yet we'll soon descend into black, white, grey, brown, taupe. Why? (I love the photo of the monkey, too.)
Thank you, Beth.
Well there are wonderful colours in a northern winter— I do love grey. Istanbul morphs from butterfly into moth in the winter, but I love it just the same. I do wear an electric magenta scarf though :)
Yes, all my scarves are bright colors and I have a cobalt-blue coat which I love to wear on the bus, amid all the blacks and greys. I love all those neutrals too -- it's like black-and-white photography, rich in its own way -- but the winter is very long and bright color is one of the things I find I miss most.
Yes, long winters can be such a drag— good thing you have that cobalt coat (I have been looking for one myself).
But then there's spring!
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