Wednesday Edition

The Heartbeat of Hindu Nepal

To arrive at Pashupatinath is to step into a sensory confluence where the sacred and the profane, the eternal and the ephemeral, coexist in breathtaking proximity. The air itself is a complex tapestry of scents: the sweet, heavy perfume of marigold garlands and ghee-soaked wicks from a thousand oil lamps mingles with the sharp, spiritual aroma of burning incense. Underlying it all is the faint, unmistakable scent of woodsmoke drifting from the banks of the Bagmati River. The soundscape is just as layered. The air hums with the constant, gentle ringing of bells, the deep-throated chanting of Vedic hymns, the murmur of countless private prayers, and the boisterous chatter of the resident rhesus macaques who claim the temple grounds as their own.

Along the sacred riverfront of Varanasi, amidst the eighty-four ghats that form the spiritual artery of the city, stands a structure of profound and perplexing beauty: the Ratneshwar Mahadev Temple. Located at the edge of the famed Manikarnika Ghat, the temple presents a dramatic spectacle. It leans at a severe nine-degree angle, its stone spire tilting precariously towards the northwest, and for most of the year, its sanctum sanctorum lies submerged beneath the holy waters of the Ganga.1 This haunting image of a half-drowned, leaning tower has made it one of the most photographed, yet least understood, landmarks in this ancient city.

Dwarka: The City of Many Layers

At the westernmost tip of India’s Saurashtra peninsula, where the Gomti River meets the Arabian Sea, lies the city of Dwarka. Here, the air is thick with the scent of salt and incense, and the sound of temple bells from the towering Dwarkadhish Temple blends with the ceaseless roar of the ocean. Dwarka is more than a geographical location; it is a concept, a sacred space where the divine is believed to have once walked the earth, a glorious kingdom lost to the waves, and today, a living, breathing centre of faith that draws millions of pilgrims.