The three eyes of the Buddha look down on me from the top of the perfect, whitewashed dome, as I clamber up the last few steps. They remain present as I join the Buddhist worshippers circumnavigating the stupa, clockwise, pulling the prayer wheels into motion as I go. Two eyes like all of us, and a third eye set above, the Buddha’s all-seeing eye. The four golden faces, looking north, south, east and west, are crowned by a 13 staged spire, representing the 13 levels a sentient being has to go through in order to reach enlightenment. The width of each layer gets smaller and smaller, creating steps up to the crown, from which Buddhist prayer flags flutter down in all directions. To my surprise, to the north west of the stupa sits a Hindu shrine to Hariti, the goddess of fertility, and a long line of Nepalis are queuing up to make offerings.
This is Swayambhunath stupa, the most important place of worship for Newari Buddhists, and central to the Newari story of creation of the Kathmandu Valley. The Newars, thought to be descended from the Kirat, the legendary ‘People of the Himalayas’, are believed to be the original inhabitants of the Kathmandu Valley. Living on ancient trade routes between Tibet, India, Kashmir and Sikkim, outside influences have mixed with their indigenous culture to create a unique set of customs and traditions. My first visit to Nepal was spent predominantly in the three Newari cities of Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur, and it was at Swayambhunanth, on the outskirts of western Kathmandu that I first noticed the interconnectedness between Newari Buddhism and Newari Hinduism.
In all other places I have visited during my travels, religions appear separate and distinct. People choose to follow one or another, generally worshipping at different religious sites and the best that can be hoped for is a peaceful tolerance of each other’s beliefs. In the Kathmandu Valley, there is more than just tolerance: over the centuries the Hindu and Buddhist practices had grown together, like ivy wrapping around branches, and now are permanently linked. Both have been fundamentally shaped by their belief in the ultimate power of the Divine Feminine, or the Mother Goddess, and by the practice of Tantra which unites this feminine aspect with that of the male, in the quest to attain an enlightened state.
It is the feminine power that the Newars believe underpins the creation of the Kathmandu Valley itself. In ancient times, it is said, the Kathmandu Valley lay under a great lake. Both Hindus and Buddhists believe a lotus seed appeared and embedded itself deep in the ground under the water, at the source of a spring, from which the power of the Great Goddess flowed. The lotus flower grew, emerging from the lake, and attracted the attention of a bodhisattva (a being on the route to achieving enlightenment) from China. This bodhisattva, Manjushri, travelled to the valley and drained the lake so everyone could visit the source of the Goddess more easily.
The site of the lotus germination, the Yoni, or vulva, of the Great Goddess, was revealed, and today is housed in the Guhyeshwari Temple in the Pashupati area of Kathmandu. Meanwhile, the lotus flower became the hill of Swayambhunath. This bodhisattva then trained the local inhabitants in many skills, among them how to farm, how to build elegant buildings, and how to cast metal images of the gods. These people are the Newars, and the tinging of metalwork can be heard in the back-streets of Patan today.
Kathmandu, the most famous Newari city dating from 12th century CE, grew around the caravan routes leading to Tibet, and a strong sense of this history can be felt navigating the narrow lanes of the Old City. The main intersections of Asan Tole and Indra Chowk are surrounded by tiered temples dressed in gold and red, marking the starting points of these treacherous trading journeys. From the early hours in the morning, the streets are bustling with activity, as they would have been for centuries. Hidden behind the ramshackle shop-fronts and vegetable sellers, are ancient bahals (courtyards) housing Buddhist stupas, Hindu shrines and Tantric monasteries.
Patan predates Kathmandu by around 10 centuries and is perhaps a more relaxed place to discover the Newari culture. Historically, Patan has had a large Buddhist influence, with four impressive stupas, dating from around 250 BCE, guarding the city. Like Kathmandu and Bhaktapur, the temples of Patan Durbar Square were hit hard by the 2015 earthquake, but locals, young and old, still congregate daily on the benches below the west-facing walls of the old Royal Palace, to enjoy a chat in the evening sun.
In the mornings, I would open my shutters in Patan’s Old Town to see women with tikkas on their foreheads, usually an indication of Hinduism, lighting butter lamps on the four sides of small Buddhist chortens (shrines). I watched women padding down the narrow lanes towards the temples, carrying golden plates of offerings, plums, incense, flowers, rice, vermillion. These temples are often dedicated to gods shared by both belief systems, or at the very least house shrines to both Hindu and Buddhist deities. Early one morning, as I sat in the magnificent Golden Temple, I realised I needed to expand my mindset and challenge my pre-conceived ideas of religion.
Originally mainly Buddhist, the Newars were influenced by Indian settlers and rulers and by 14th century CE, the majority had converted to Hinduism, in name at least. They adopted the Hindu caste system, resulting in a dual hierarchy within their societal structure: Vajrachayras, the Buddhist priests, share the highest status with the Hindu Brahmin priests. Today, in the higher castes, the religious practices are more distinct, but for the average Newar, both Hindu and Buddhist gods are worshipped and both sets of festivals celebrated. The only defining factor of their religious choice being what type of priest the family uses.
The form of Hinduism in the Kathmandu Valley focuses on Shaktism: belief in and worship of the creative energy of the Mother Goddess, usually referred to as Durga. Taleju is her wrathful incarnation and the most important Hindu deity in the Kathmandu Valley. Successive Hindu kings tried to appease Taleju with the annual sacrifice of animals at their sacred Taleju shrines that they constructed in the inner courtyards of their palaces. Newari Hindus’ belief system centres around the power of the female, distinguishing them from orthodox Hindus. For example, Newari pre-pubescent girls generally perform iti, which involves marriage to a god, so that any future husband is actually their second husband. This frees them from the stigma they would face in conventional Hinduism if they remained unmarried, or became divorced or widowed.
Vajrayana Buddhism, a unique form of Buddhism, has also developed. Vajrayana Buddhism, an offshoot of Mahayana Buddhism, involves praying to a complex set of gods and bodhisttvas, with their main female deity Vajradevi again playing a central role. Like Newari Hinduism, Buddhism focuses on Tantric rituals, in which, either through sexual actions or mediations on those actions, the female and male aspects are united in the moment of orgasm. It is on this moment that Tantric practice concentrates: by controlling the mind and preventing the release of power through ejaculation, the practitioner is believed to an enlightened state. Given the importance of sex in Tantra practices, Buddhist monks do not stay in monasteries, and return to the world to find a partner with whom they can practice.
The influence of the divine feminine on life in the Valley goes even deeper, through the tradition of the Kumari. Both Hindu and Buddhist Newaris worship pre-pubescent girls called a Kumaris, as living embodiments of their feminine goddess. Coming from a Buddhist priestly caste, she must have certain physical features, no scars, and most importantly, not have lost any blood. She is selected by astrologers, usually at a very young age and is replaced by another before she reaches puberty. Any loss of blood releases her creative force and renders her powerless.
Once a widespread practice in the Kathmandu Valley, with all towns and neighbourhoods having a Kumari for their personal worship, this practice was adopted by the Hindu Malla kings of the three Newari cities as they saw it as a way to harness to the power of the gods and protect their kingdoms. The most famous Kumari, the Royal Kumari, lives in the Kumari residence in Kathmandu Durbar Square, where she continues today to play an important role in the religious life of the nation. Until the abolition of the monarchy, the King came every year to kiss her feet, seeking her blessing, in an notable display of male power submitting to the female. With the Mother Goddess inside her, her actions are not her own, and it is said her behaviour can predict significant events affecting the fate of the nation.
The tradition is also alive in Patan and Bhaktapur, and it was in the back-streets of Patan I found the residence of Patan Kumari. As she came rushing out of her throne room, thinking she was alone, the first thing that struck me was how small she is. Nihira Bajracharya had become a Kumari only a few months before, at the age of 5, and one’s natural reaction is to smile at a child of this age. But she is a person of great religious significance, and this is not the thing to do. Dressed in sparkles and red, with heavy black makeup dramatically up-ticking at the outer corners of her eyes, she quickly became solemn and went back to her throne. Scattered on the floor beside her were water jugs, tikka powders, flowers and candles. I sat in front of her and she looked at me saying nothing, thankfully, as her tears signify your imminent illness or death. I lent forward for my tikka and nervously grappled in my bag for an offering of rupees before hurrying out the door.
I later went back to take a photo of the courtyard of her monastery, and found her hanging out a window on the second floor. This time the urge to smile overpowered me, but it was met with a foreboding widening of the eyes, and suddenly, she vanished. I gulped, hoping I hadn’t undone my earlier blessing.
My encounters with the Patan Kumari remained with me as I crept through the dark tunnels linking bahals, continually emerging to find some treasure: intricately carved windows in Bhaktapur, ancient monasteries in Patan or proud stupas dominating their bahals in Kathmandu. I had the feeling I had only scratched the surface of this rich and complex culture, in which the eclectic belief systems challenge our conventional monogamous relationships with religion. The dominance of the Mother Goddess and the hidden Tantra traditions add further layers of intrigue to the culture of the Newaris, and set it distinctly apart from the mainstream versions of Hinduism and Buddhism. Erotic images on the exteriors of Hindu temples, such as the Dattatreya Temple in Bhaktapur, hinted to secret customs that I would never be able to understand. Nevertheless, the stories and the architecture of the three former royal cities of the Kathmandu Valley impressed me deeply, and I knew much was left to explore.