One of the more revealing features of any culture is how it processes death — physically, mentally, and spiritually. While visiting Kathmandu, we had the perfect opportunity to observe Nepal’s version of grappling with mortality when we took a tour of Pashupatinath Temple, where the remains of the deceased are cremated by the river.

Pashupatinath, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is the oldest temple in South Asia, dating back to as long ago as 400 CE. It’s also one of the largest, spanning more than 26 million square feet. The complex, in addition to the main temple, encompasses 519 smaller pagodas. Beside it on the banks of the Bagmati River are about a dozen pyres, some of which are in use every day for cremation. Also on the premises is a sort of hospice, so that individuals who are about to expire can be conveniently located next to where their earthly remains are to be disposed of.

Despite the temple being so well known and so conspicuous on the landscape, our taxi driver seemed to have a hard time locating it, finally turning down a very narrow street that was totally what you wouldn’t expect to be an access point to such a major landmark. But there it was, and then he maneuvered to turn around and head back out, as there was no way through except by foot.

After a bit of asking around, we managed to locate the office to pay for admission –yes, to a temple. No, actually just to the temple grounds; we were not allowed inside the temple itself. Or rather we were directed to the office after someone stopped us and asked us if we had a ticket. Immediately, a tour guide lurking nearby attached himself to us like a leach, not offering us much choice except to let him continue his breathless spiel or rudely brush him off. At first we considered the latter, but we ultimately decided that we wouldn’t understand the goings-on quite so well on our own.

And so our guide by default led us initially down the steps to a platform overlooking the riverbank, where cremations were in progress. We already had seen the smoke arising from some distance away, and knowing what it was, felt just a bit apprehensive about getting close enough to actually view it up close. But here we were, in the thick of it.

There were about a dozen pyres along the river, and about half of them were in use at the time. Outside the ticket office, three ambulances (the size of Jeeps) had been parked, apparently having just delivered three more corpses to await the flames. One of the pyres was directly below us, and an attendant was stirring the flames with a pole, revealing just a few bones still visible. At one point, he placed bags of ghee (clarified butter) on the fire as a sacred offering to Agni, the fire deity that helps purify, sustain, and sanctify the cremation fire. The ghee symbolizes nourishment for the soul’s journey and ensures the flames burn steadily and cleanly. Once the body has been cremated, the ashes are released into the Bagmati River, which flows into the Ganga (Ganges) — the Old Man River among Hindus.

The scene is such a contrast to what we’re accustomed to on the other side of the planet — where death is usually concealed beneath several feet of earth. Even in those cases in which remains are cremated, it happens in an enclosed facility. Here in Nepal, the task is performed right out in the open for all to see. And traces of the departed are carried aloft, and mingling with the air that the living breathe. It’s quite a sobering sight and a sobering realization.

Next our compulsory guide led us back up the stairs and across the footbridge to the other side of the river. But along the way, we paused to let a woman smear a mark on Kimberly’s forehead with red ash. This mark is what Hindus call a tilak, a spiritual symbol placed over the “third eye” in the forehead. In can take many forms, often just a single dot. This one was rather more elaborate: a variety called a tripundra, a representation of the trident of Lord Shiva. The three prongs symbolize (among many other things) Shiva’s power of knowledge, power of will, and power of action. And this lady bestowed the mark upon Kimberly for a mere 50 rupees. (Interesting that the trident has been a recurring motif in religions around the world, sometimes benevolent, sometimes malignant, sometimes just powerful: e.g., Shiva, Neptune, Satan.)

Looking down from the bridge, we saw a man having his head shaved, which is a ritual that some males undergo when mourning for a relative. Typically, it is the eldest son in mourning for a parent; the son then has the dubious (to us) honor of lighting the pyre.

From the other side of the bank, we could look across the river and observe a couple of bodies been ritually “washed” to purify them before cremation. They were brought in on metal stretchers and placed by the river covered in an orange robe or drapery of some sort. Then the loved ones would gather around, and lave the face with water from the river. The very same river water containing the ashes of other decedents. Then the corpse would be transported to a nearby pyre, this time on a wooden stretcher. Most of the corpses making the transition on this day were older people, but we did see the body of a young man, perhaps in this thirties.

Our guide pointed out a building on the other side, next to Pashupatinath temple which he said is a facility established by Mother Teresa. The sisters of her order live there and provide end-of-life care, nursing, medicine, and shelter for destitute, elderly, and disabled individuals.

On this side of the bank was a row of stupas, which are small shrines designed to hold religious relics, and to serve as centers of prayer and meditation. These particular stupas, it seemed, were being used for just about everything else. People were sleeping in them, and having little parties in them — we were certain we smelled the aroma of a certain form of vegetation burning. And the grounds around were adorned with plastic drink bottles and other debris.

Our escort also pointed out several stone representations of the lingam and yoni, the symbolic and stylistic representations of the male and female principles respectively. Devotees come and leave offerings on these, and you might never guess what they represent without program notes. But at least one little statue of Shiva himself depicted his, um, male principle much more precisely. These emblems of regeneration can be found in many places throughout the temple grounds, but it’s especially interesting that they are placed conspicuously across the river from the spot where the dead are released. A metaphorical journey from birth across the river of life to death.

Escorting us back across the bridge, our preordained guide took his leave, asking us first if we enjoyed the tour, and then if we enjoyed the tour a lot. When we admitted that, well yes, we did, he commented that “many times Americans who enjoy the tour a lot give me about 20 dollars”. Well, we were not among those Americans, especially since he surgically attached himself to us without invitation. What we did give him was 1000 rupees (about $6.75), whereupon he asked if we could cough up another 500. But we told him we didn’t have another 500, which was true enough — we didn’t have that exact denomination. So he went away, seemingly content enough, and sought out his next mark.

Before leaving the temple complex, we had one more sight to see, or at least sort of see: the Golden Bull of Shiva, symbolizing devotion and strength. To access the statue, we had to enter through a little gate where attendants made certain we removed our footwear before walking the rest of the way. After a short distance, we came to a courtyard surrounded by a high wall; but the entrance, like the entrance to a couple of other places we encountered, was accessible only to Hindus. (How exactly do they verify your religious affiliation, anyway?) So Hindus get to go around to the bull’s head and view the beast in its entirety. The rest of us have to settle for a glimpse of shiny bull butt.

Our tour of the temple grounds concluded, we started making our way home, with one other stop on the way. First we had to go back over the footbridge and over a hill on some steep steps; at the top were some small buildings, one of which housed a cow, and one of which housed some kind of athletic center — a few guys were pumping iron out in front. Then back down the hill to a very narrow footbridge back over the river — which curved around to accommodate the direction of our trek.

Crossing that bridge, we had to pass through a gauntlet of monkeys scrambling past us on either side as if they’d heard through the grapevine that a banana truck had overturned somewhere. It was a bit unnerving, given that these little rascals can be a bit aggressive if they suspect you’re in possession of victuals. In fact, they can be a bit aggressive if they take a fancy to your glasses or phone or other worldly goods. But this time they zipped by, paying us no heed. Maybe a banana truck really did overturn somewhere.

Then it was a short walk to another UNESCO point of interest, the giant Buddha Stupa, a temple dating back to at least the 14th Century (though a stupa on this site has been mentioned in texts dated about a millennium earlier). This stupa, one of the largest around, is said to have been the birthplace of Tibetan Buddhism.

It’s a major spiritual center, in other words. But, like Pashupatinath, you still have to pay admission (if you’re a foreigner) to get up enough for a good look. And it’s surrounded by a circular… well, mall is perhaps the best description. An entire mini-village of shops and cafes and restaurants that some might consider rather tacky in this location. But there it is. It gives the impression that this stupa was constructed just to be a tourist attraction, a Disney version of a Buddhist temple. But nope, it’s the real deal. And the scores of devotees who come to worship here attest to that.

Standing 118 feet high, the stupa touts a handsome white dome tipped in gold, and festooned with brightly colored flags. These are prayer flags, in five colors: blue for sky, white for air, red for fire, green for water, and yellow for earth. Adjoining the dome is a little chamber containing cylindrical “prayer wheels” arranged in two circles. You’re supposed to walk around each one spinning the wheels three times. And then make a donation for the privilege, of course.

Well, it was quite a journey we had on this day, encompassing death, birth, the spiritual bridges between the two, and the bustling commerce and celebration of people immersed in the middle of life itself. Kathmandu is a center where these things can be witnessed at close range in concentrated doses.

Events occurred: 9/9/2026