Dear all,
I arrived on the night of the 31st in Kathmandu, a country known as the Shangri-La. Despite its name it has turned into a chaotic place and anarchy is rampant. Police forces in remote villages are still being killed or punished by the YCL (Young Communist league), which here in the press are dubbed “the young criminal league", because of their violence. The cadres, who are in a coalition government as the Maoist Party, seem to be unable to rein them in.
Anyway, I came here on a mission, believe it or not, for Lord Shiva, from whom I got the vision in a trance about 5 months ago. I was told to go to Pashupatinath in Nepal. Then it would have been appropriate to go, it was still dry season, no floods and one day of Shiv Ratri (worship of Shiva allover the country in India and Nepal. I couldn’t go as I was still teaching in Thailand.
Came what came, I had to go and to my pleasant surprise, I found out that the month of August is an entire month of Shiva worship. I had to go to Pashupatinath, which means protector of animals, which Shiva is. No wonder I thought, why I see so many animals in my trances or I turn in one, ranging from cobra, python, to wolf or eagle and condor. Even owls, mustangs, you name it are part of the panorama of traveling in the 4th dimension.
So, after one sleepless night in a budget guesthouse (noise the whole morning for they had a wedding party) I headed for Bauda, known as Bodanath. There you visit a stupa erected in 15th century and now worshipped by Tibetan monks, Nepalese, and the to Buddhism foreigners converted, who just like the Tibetans and Nepali prostrate themselves on the ground and make the prayer wheels turn clockwise for good fortune.
To my pleasant surprise I met a bunch of Rajasthani nomads who live in tents in a muddy place behind the stupa. Two shoeshine boys accosted me and took me to their tent dwelling and that’s how I got to know them. Pleasant, ‘because I dreamed of going back to Rajasthan one day to meet those nomads again, and look I found them here. Thanks Shiva!!!
Now many of my friends are not Hindus and nor am I, but I have turned into this jangri (Nepali for Shaman) and I go where the gods and spirits send me. I waited 3 days, still on antibiotics for a very resistant lung infection and feeling weak and feverish, I decided that I could make my move to Pashupatinath, which is a 15-minute walk over a street, which leads through meadows. Before I went I decided to buy two postcards, one of Shiva and one of Hanuman, the monkey god whom I had seen in a vision in Cuzco in the Sacsayhuaman Inca area. I told the friendly vendor in the shop, that one of my names was Wayra Inti (Wind of the Sun given to me by a Peruvian Shaman on the Island of the Sun Bolivia). "Oh, he said, "Hanuman means wind and Hanuman is also Shiva in another body."
So I would be “Hanuman Surya “ (the latter means sun) and thinking of this I got really startled to find out about the so many signs and messages I received in Thailand, too many to tell, though. It confirmed time and time again my connection with Shiva. "And you know", the vendor said: "Today is Hanuman day."
The very same day I went to Pashupatinath on Hanuman day, could it be more enlightening? At last I stood in front of the Baghmati River; it was a concrete gray with a rapid spewing from my left. I saw children playing and bathing in the nude on an islet in the middle of it. Despite the color I shed my clothes and went down the stairs into the river. The water was not freezing and reached just below my knees. I had a couple of adult Newaris (Nepalese) following my every move with an approving smile. Soon many more got interested and stood on the wall that separated the river a bit from the road. I enjoyed playing with the kids and instantly I was one myself, we splashed water and mud from the river at one another. I let my self float in the strong current and submerged myself followed by rubbing the silted mud over my face and body.
Then I faced the sun and made my vows and sun worship and asked His Lord to continue to guide me. I got out after having sprayed myself with some diluted detergent that a Nepali boy gave me. And I walked on not knowing exactly where the Pashupatinath sacred Shiva temple stood. Following my nose and instinct I ended up following a young Nepali who said he went to a Shiva temple up there where I was warmly welcomed on top of the stairs by elder Hindus. I left my sandals behind and entered the premises. I found a shrine right in front of me, a square building with a huge lingam (Shiva’s organ) cut out in rough rock red with Hindu powder. I took some and made a tikka on my forehead (a red dot on the third eye place). I felt so exhilarated.
When I left the shrine I saw more men sitting on the right side, one was reading the puranas (Holy Hindu texts) and another one was making a fire. Another young guy invited me to sit and we started a conversation. He had seen me as others had. He said they had wondered about why a foreigner was bathing there? What is he doing there? They felt foreigners should be more sophisticated, but then they didn’t know of my spiritual mission. Shambu who then became a new acquaintance, is a Brahmin and told the guys he could see me worship the Sun and so he knew I wasn’t doing the swimming for fun in that river. He heard my story and believed me. We have seen more and more westerners like you who have come here and said they had spoken with Shiva. Shambu itself means Shiva too!
He called his friends to come over and we discussed the many facets of spirituality. Then as it got later we went down to the other side over the hill to face the burning ghats in front of the Pashupatinath temple. A band of starved monkeys found me when I ripped open a banana and stole it from me. A big macaque took place on my head and when satisfied of his domination over me jumped away again. Later in the evening a group of women dressed in pure orange moved in single file from the left to the stairs that lead to the temple. We waited and it seemed the doors would only open around 7 p.m. We got to see a range of shrines built by the Mala dynasty, a maharana, kind of king who had thirteen wives and built a shrine for each, with a lingam and bull facing the lingam for every deceased rani (queen).
Then at last it was nearly dark and the temple doors opened up, but we sat from a distance of about 100 meters and the crowd inside the temple was blocking the view of his lingam, we couldn’t see anything. I’d come back tomorrow with Shambu. Before we left we went to see a sadhu (Holy man) with a white long beard who gave Shambu a fifteen minute lecture on what the ego (atman) soul and God is, basically rebuking my vision quest.
Shambu and I left him for what he was, an orthodox man who clung to his taught beliefs and could or would not accept that anything can happen outside of the Hindu doctrine. It was nothing but a dream I saw, he had said, as this life is a dream too. I didn’t want to debate with him. I knew what I had seen months ago and what it meant. That was more than enough. Barely had Shambu dropped me off near the stupa and I walked home to my guesthouse Kailash (the sacred abode of Shiva in the Himalayas) -where else would have stayed but I lodge with the appropriate name?
But my happiness turned very ugly when I was bothered by a drunken guy flanked by three other intoxicated youths, sitting like him on the pavement in front of the small restaurant where I was going to eat. He obviously sought to provoke me just before I entered it at around 8.30 pm. He asked me imitating an American accent;"Hey, man whassup?" I ignored him, but he continued: “You look like some kind of Baba (a holy man) - I was wearing my red Karen sarong and a Cambodian scarf on my head, something I had done for premises of Pashupatinath.
I ignored his last one-liner with a smile. After I came out again, three of the four who sat near the restaurant carried someone away who could barely stand on his legs. The guy who had spoken to me was with them and they were either drunk or drugged or both.
I passed them by, just in front of them, and met with a fellow traveler from France who stayed in my guesthouse. Barely having started our conversation, the guy approached us and stood nearly face to face overhearing our conversation. I told him to leave us alone, as it was private. Three times didn’t work and I got really worked up about him, I told him that I would call the cops if he didn’t leave right away. He said: “Let the cops come!" So, I pushed him away by his shoulder. During this my lady friend was pushed brutally aside and others in the street just looked on. That’s when he punched me and I instinctively punched back. Before I realized I saw fists and feet from blowing from all corners and feet kicking on me until I fell on the ground, more kicks hit my head, face and body. In the end I managed to escape and screamed “POLICE!" at the top of my lungs. I found what I thought was a teenage policeman, near the stupa, (I found out the day after, he was only a security guard with no power).
I was bleeding from my eyes which were now seriously swelling. My entire body was aching. The young policeman with a lathi in hand warned his colleagues. In five minutes they arrived at the scene but did nothing but watch when the tough guy attempted to attack me again, though some people withheld him. I had run for my life to the cops, but no one, even a group of monks and tourist who passed buy seemed to be bothered to offer some assistance. No doctor was found and I ended up in the guesthouse where I felt safe but in awful pains.
That was my day; it had started so beautifully, I wonder why it ended this way. I am now at the press, but no one seems to be willing to publish the assault story. I haven’t gone to the cops, as from my experience I know they won’t do anything.
Laatst bewerkt door alann (2007-08-04 09:02:41)
.jpg)