The unfinished poem

Brian Mendonça steps back in time to look at the myriad cultural dimensions of Nepal that are noticed less during turbulent times

My heart is fluttering like silk in the wind

I cannot decide whether to fly or to sit on the hilltop.

— Nepali folk song

NEPAL still remains to be discovered. By each one individually. The media usually concentrates on the political developments here but Nepal’s myriad dimensions lure one and all, make one young again and lead one to a stillness and calmness impossible anywhere else, except in the immensity of the Himalayas.

To step into Kathmandu is to step back in time. To know yourself like no other place. Nepal challenges your perceptions about yourself, your belief in life itself. Tucked away in a room in this mountain kingdom almost on the roof of the world – with no phones whatsoever, or any communication with the outside world – it felt like coming into this world anew. The breathtaking beauty of Nepal puts you in touch with absolutes. It seems to stir you to your full potential and enables you to say with Nepali poet Gopal Prasad Rimal: A day comes / but once in an age.

Indeed, the lidless eyes of Swayambhu followed us everywhere and endured long after we came back from Nepal seven years ago, clutching the letter-writing pad made of Nepali handmade lokta paper.

Early this year, emerging out of bereavement, it was the eternal city of Kathmandu which, in its healing, imparted the deepest truths about life. And of the struggle to live, despite the myth of Sisyphus. ‘I have climbed my mountain, but I must still live my life’ says Sherpa Tenzing Norgay who climbed Everest.

Prince Siddhartha was given all he could have by his father, but a chance ride outside the palace gates into the world brought him face to face with suffering, old age and finally death. He then left his wife and young son and proceeded to seek the Truth. These stages in the life of the Buddha have been beautifully illustrated in Nepali repousse – an ancient form of metal work, on copper in panels at the reception area of Hotel Sherpa.

‘Repousse’ literally means ‘to push back’ in French. Taking a piece of sheet metal a picture is traced onto it. A relief design is then created by hammering or pressing the reverse side of the metal. Artisans in the Kathmandu valley do this kind of work, especially in Patan and Gwarko.

In the central panel overhead at the reception area of Hotel Sherpa flanked by Tibetan prayer drums lay a frieze of the panchabuddha i.e, manifestations of the Buddha in five seated poses. These constitute the essence of the meditative experience and states which humans may aspire to for a sense of meaning and purpose in life. In the first, the Buddha displays the dharmachakra mudra with the first finger of each hand touching the thumb. This symbolises dharma and the wheel of life. In the second pose Buddha is seen in the bhumisparsha mudra with the earth-touching gesture. This mudra signifies rootedness and confidence. The third mudra of the Buddha is the varada mudra, which shows the Buddha in the act of giving, signifying charity. The fourth mudra is the dhyana mudra, arms folded in the lap in the aspect of meditation. The final mudra is the abhaya mudra, signifying fearlessness, in the aspect of blessing. These mudras are also prominent on the upper face of the Swayambhunath stupa. However, the stupa statues are in golden colour.

Outside, in the street opposite Nanglo’s restaurant on Durbar Marg children played gucchi-khel in which they tried to keep a rubber ball in the air by kicking it up for as long as possible.

At Hotel Annapurna’s Casino Ana on Durbar Marg a lady was singing somewhat desultorily while the others where too busy eying the croupiers stashing the chips. Watching one young lady, zombie-like, insert more chips into the machine from her bowl, I saw a face that was past caring. Down the road stood Planet Bar and Restaurant, which seemed to be making a different kind of music.

Against this backdrop, what is the identity of the Nepali youth today? Will it only be the likes of Planet Bar or the casinos which will offer them warmth and succour? I still have Duncan Forbes’ The Heart of Nepal where the Nepalis sing their simple folk songs (Heinneman, 1977). Did I complete my poem on Nepal begun in 1998? No. The moment had long gone. But I wrote another with a new kind of fierceness for life and its momentariness. Yes, in the eerie silence of the days following February 1, 2005, we read Kathmandu at Night by E. Ann Hunkins in the safety of our hotel rooms since at night even sleep is wary, ‘sleep is cautious.’

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