15
Home to Kathmandu and Chaos Again
‘Keep your eyes on the finish line and not on the turmoil around you.’
Have you ever seen an ECG graph? The peaks, the valleys, the squiggles and the flats? Well, that’s how my life has been. Always unpredictable.
It was August. I had regained health and was now excited to be flying home to Kathmandu. I had no plans about how long I would stay. As a child, I remember pressing my little face against the windowpane of the aircraft each time we landed at my magical kingdom. Wide-eyed, I would drink in the beauty of my mountainous country. From up there, I would try to identify Mount Everest but never actually could. They all looked the same from a distance—stately peaks wrapped up in white pashmina shawls. As we descended closer, I would fly out a silent thanks to these lofty guardians for protecting us night and day, in silent vigil.
Coming home was always something I looked forward to. As a child, I would excitedly see Kathmandu emerge slowly before my wondrous eyes—first the mountains . . . then the lush green hills . . . the rivers . . . the riverbeds . . . the forests . . . the cultivated fields . . . the rice paddy fields . . . the brick factories . . . the plains. . . then the scattering of a few houses . . . and then we would land! I have loved this feeling of coming back home. My excitement at coming back to the place where my entire khandaan lives will always remain. It is magical.
On our way from the airport to my home, I began reflecting on the days gone by. What blissful days my growing-up years in Kathmandu had been! I had lived in my grandfather’s two-storeyed house in Chabahil with a huge garden. Both my grandmother and my grandfather were towering personalities. My grandfather, Shri B.P. Koirala, whom I lovingly called B.P. Ba, was deeply respected for having fought for Nepal’s democracy. The house was always teeming with people—often with as many as fifty to a hundred of them at a time. I loved being surrounded by grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins as well as the hordes of admirers and party workers that swarmed his place.
In this huge house, equality ruled—beyond caste and creed. Nobody was considered inferior. Everyone ate together. People went about doing the tasks assigned to them, dressed simply, never boasting about their importance. Even people who cleaned and cooked belonged to the families of freedom fighters.
The person from whom I learnt gardening later became one of the top leaders of Nepal! He was Bhim Bahadur Tamang. Our kids’ group would learn gardening from him. It was he who taught me to how to grow roses, strawberries, asparagus and other plants in that huge garden.
Encouraged to explore various hobbies by my grandfather, I excitedly took to gardening, cycling and roller skating. I also enjoyed simply lying blissfully on my back on the dense grass, among the frisky rabbits. Another activity I enjoyed was picking unripe apricots and wild white flowers that I would later weave into garlands.
I came back to the present with a jolt. As we drove from the airport to our parent’s home in Maharajganj, Kathmandu, I saw the open spaces and pathways where I had learnt to cycle without brakes. Sadly, the ugliness of modern construction had taken away the beauty of the eucalyptus-lined pathways of my childhood.
Nepal occupies vast spaces of my soul. In Kathmandu resides the soul of both Hinduism and Buddhism—ageless, limitless, throbbing and alive. Looking back, I realize what a privilege and honour it was to grow up as a Koirala kid. Whichever part of Nepal I go to, I am still identified not as a Bollywood actress but as the granddaughter of B.P. Koirala, the first democratically elected prime minister of Nepal. Widely regarded as one of the greatest leaders of Nepal, he was a staunch advocate of democratic socialism, which he believed was the solution to Nepal’s underdevelopment.
I love Nepal for its riot of colours, sights, sounds and smells, its mystic energy and its spiritually rich environment for both Hinduism and Buddhism. It is also known as Shakti Bhoomi and Tantra Bhoomi. Nepalis pray to Bhairav, who is another form of Lord Shiva.
Kathmandu is the capital of the kingdom, situated in a bowl-shaped valley, which is an open-air museum of various ancient temples and shrines, golden pagodas and magnificent deities. It is a city of unlimited historic, artistic and cultural richness.
It has often been described as the ‘Land of Temples’. In fact, an old Hindu text describes Kathmandu as the land of gods surrounded by beautiful mountains. A western visitor wrote some two hundred years ago that there are as many temples as there are houses and as many idols as there are people in this city.
Kathmandu’s most famous and sacred Hindu temple complex, Pashupatinath, was just walking distance from my childhood home in Chabahil. Recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1979, this iconic temple is the seat of Nepal’s national deity, Lord Pashupatinath.
Some of my most precious childhood memories are walking along the banks of River Bagmati that runs between the Pashupatinath temple and the temple of Guhyeshwari. The sacred Guhyeshwari Temple is dedicated to Adishakti. The library around the temple area has over 600 books written by Nepalese historian, writer and saint Yogi Naraharinath in twenty-eight languages. This library was my favourite haunt as a child. Even now, I love spending time there.
Kathmandu has many other striking visuals: the architecturally grand temples with their tapering tops; Boudhanath, the white-domed, golden-spired stupa, which is the largest in the world; the iconic Buddha face on the four sides of the square, which looks out into the four cardinal directions, with the all-seeing Buddha eyes; the piercing eyes of goddess Kumari; the red borders of the temples; the sprightly girls with red tikas on their foreheads; the married women wearing red-and-green bead necklaces (pote) with the distinct gold pendant (tilhari); and the red fluttering ‘prayer flags’.
The stupas represent the human body, almost all of them having seven steps representing the seven chakras (energy centres) of the body. The eye of the Buddha is the third eye.
Dassain or Dussehra has always been a festival I looked forward to. Our extended family members would visit our home. It was a time when we all wore new clothes and the children went from house to house, seeking the blessings of elders. In our homes, our elders would bless us by putting a tika made of sindoor, yogurt and rice on our foreheads.
I love Nepal’s distinct culture. I have beautiful childhood memories of the Tihar festival during the month of Kartik. It is a festival that celebrates the divine association between humans and animals. On the first day of the festival, Kaag Puja (crow worship) is performed by offering food to crows on the roofs of houses. The second day is for Kukur Puja (dog worship), where we garland dogs with yellow-and-orange sayapatri phool (marigolds) and apply tika on their foreheads. On this day, even the stray dogs look resplendent with tikas on their foreheads and garlands around their necks. On the third day, cows and oxen are worshipped. The third day is also celebrated as Lakshmi Puja. Windows and doorways are decorated with bright-yellow and flame-orange garlands made of sayapatri and makhamali (Gomphrena globosa). In the evening, the goddess of wealth, Lakshmi, is worshipped to express gratitude for the blessings bestowed on the family. Oil lamps are lit in her honour. The entire city begins twinkling like a fairy land. The fourth day is ‘self day’, or self-worship day, where we worship the spirit dwelling in our own body. Those following Vaishnavism also observe it as Govardhan Puja. The fourth day is also seen as the beginning of the Sambat calendar year in Nepal.
The five-day festival concludes with Bhaiya Dhuj, popularly called Bhaitika in Nepal. Sisters pray for the long and prosperous life of their brothers by applying multi-coloured tikas on their foreheads and blessing them. It is a day that celebrates the precious bond between sisters and brothers. On my mother’s side of the family, I am the only sister. Hence I eagerly look forward to this celebration.
One of the most fascinating traditions of Nepal is the worship of Kumari Devi, or Living Goddess—a young, prepubescent girl who is believed to be the manifestation of the divine female energy or Devi in Hindu religious tradition. She is also considered to be the incarnation of the goddess Taleju, or Taleju Bhavani. The word ‘Kumari’ comes from the Sanskrit word ‘kaumarya’ or princess.
The main Royal Kumari in Kathmandu (there are several Kumaris across Nepal) lives in a palace called Kumari Ghar in the centre of the city. Kumaris with godly attributes are selected from among the Shakya caste or the Bajracharya clan of the Nepalese Newari community. She is generally chosen for a day like Navaratri or Durga Puja. In the Kathmandu Valley this is a prevalent practice.
A Kumari makes for a spectacular sight. Devotees carry her along the streets in a golden palanquin during the Seto Machindranath chariot festival at Hanuman Dhoka Durbar Square in Kathmandu.
I was once fortunate to visit and pay my respects to the Living Goddess. I do not remember my age at that time—just that I was a young child. Amidst the smell of thick candle wax and musky incense she sat, looking impassively at her worshippers from a low silver throne. Her dress was a vibrant red and gold. Her garland of deep-orange marigolds offset her very pale skin. She wore her hair in a topknot and had the agni chakchuu or ‘fire eye’ painted on her forehead as a symbol of her special powers of perception. The floor around her was strewn with ceremonial rice, decorative metal plates, red tika and white, pink, purple and dark-red carnation flowers. One by one, the worshippers came up to her and sought her blessings.
All these childhood images shot through my mind’s eye as we landed in Kathmandu and drove towards home. Even though the 2015 earthquake caused massive destruction and death, the natives remain happy and hopeful. For me, this country beats to an ancient rhythm—life itself. I may go anywhere in the world, but the Nepali in me remains intact.
Finally, we reached my parent’s home in Maharajganj. It was in a state of disarray, but the feeling of being home was indescribable. I felt safe and joyful.
I’ll take it easy now! Maybe here I can relax my strict regimen.
At this point I had started receiving requests to give motivational talks. I used to always hesitate before accepting speaking assignments because I suffered from stage fright. You might think that to be strange, as I was a seasoned actress by then. The truth is that I have always been comfortable before a camera. But just remove that camera and put a mike and an audience of a 100 people instead, all waiting for me to speak, and I will fumble!
In the glow of what I thought was good health, I realized I had lost my fear of public speaking. So I accepted two assignments—one in Kathmandu and the other in Kolkata. But during the flight to Kolkata itself, I began feeling feverish. However, to my surprise, I delivered the speech effortlessly and flew back home.
I still felt feverish, but kept thrusting it to the back of my mind. But when my fever increased, I panicked.
What had I done wrong? Had I overexerted my weak body? Was it recurrence I was facing? No, not again, O divine!
Fearing that the water in my parent’s home had caused this, I moved to Bhai and Yulia’s home in the same city. But despite the loving care they showered on me, I showed no improvement.
My aunt who is a gynaecologist then took me to the hospital for tests. The sonogram revealed some spots on my liver! I was horrified. MRI tests were advised.
The damn cancer must have metastasized to my liver! Oh, why did I take the risk of travelling when my immune system was still so weak? Not again. God, not again!
We shot out emails to Dr Makker and she responded immediately (god bless her!), requesting more tests. Once those were done, she asked for some more.
Can you imagine living with the fear of cancer having recurred for ten full days? That’s the horror I lived through. The matter had become more complicated as my gall bladder had been removed and there was no bile production in my body.
Frantically, I checked my cancer marker and heaved a big sigh of relief. The level had not increased. Sonography finally nailed the problem. Jaundice! I jumped with relief.
Perhaps the hard, unsterilized water in my parent’s home had brought about the problem. Or was it the raw salad leaves I had eaten? One thing was clear. My immune system was very weak and I could not stress it further.
I stayed on in Kathmandu until I gained a little strength and then flew back to Mumbai—alone. I wanted to take one day at a time to rebuild myself. I flung myself wholeheartedly into strengthening and recovering inside out. The jaundice scare had shown me that I could not take my health for granted.
By the end of January 2014, I flew back to New York for follow-up scans. Dr Makker looked at my scans and said, ‘Don’t panic, but there’s a spot on your pancreas. Most likely this is not cancer. It was probably always there and we missed it.’
My head began reeling.
‘Manisha, I can ask the radiologist to write that this is benign.’
She had just said that to calm me and because she knew me. But the radiologist did not do so. Radiologists are in no obligation to do so. He did not know me and just did what he thought was right. Once again I plunged deeper into my black pit of panic and sorrow.
I was still uncertain about the results of my next scan. My CA-125 blood test reports were fine. But I knew this was not the most reliable marker. I was asked to wait for three months before doing a CT scan to check the size of the spot. In that mood, walking on razor’s edge, I flew back to Mumbai.
I was certain of the worst. Mentally, I kept thinking of the ‘ideal place’ to leave the world. My dream place would have trees, birds and open spaces bathed in the sunlight. I would take my last breath as the fragrant breeze stroked me goodbye.
But I tried to gather myself. In a moment of clarity, I reached a decision. I would preserve myself. My mantra now would be self-care, self-mastery and self-discipline. I would not let any negative thoughts come near me.