Manakaamana and a Nepali Shaadhi

Hindu philosophy, like many philosophies upon which religions have been established, is comprised of layers of interpretation, left for the believer to choose how deeply he or she chooses to delve and seek out the Truth. While the Bhagavad Gita is a melody of the Truth in its most refined form, the Puranas are enriched with allegories of it, depicting, in my opinion, various compositions of energy in the form of Hindu deities, who are required to transform themselves into different avatars and descend into the human world to relay that Truth in a digestible manner to the common man. In some ways, this reflects the practice of Hinduism, which has also taken its own shape and form, mostly in minor ways, in the different regions of the world where it survives. While the fundamental philosophy remains in its pure state, the method in which it is practiced slightly alters. These variations have been quite fascinating to observe in Nepal over the last few weeks.

Earlier this month, we visited the Manakaamana temple, dedicated to a form of the goddess Shakthi, which is situated atop a 1,302 meter mountain, roughly three hours’ drive southwest of Kathmandu. From its base in Chera, we took a fifteen minute cable car ride to the top, enjoying a breathtaking view of the river flowing through mountains and valleys on the way. In Manakaamana village, we were greeted by alleys full of souvenir merchants and restaurant hawkers marketing, “Mattar paneer! Butter chicken!” I was dismayed to find that meat and alcohol were being sold and consumed in and around the temple’s premises. Even more alarming were the offerings of blood to please the gods in the form of animal sacrifices. During my earlier visit to Kathmandu’s temples, I mistook pools of sacrificial blood in front of the deities as kumkum powder mixed with holy water. Though I’m not entirely aware of the history of sacrificial offerings in Hinduism, I was unpleasantly surprised that this was a common practice here in Nepal. Once we reached the temple, the queue to see the deity was several kilometers long, so we opted for the shortcut of giving the priest our previously purchased flowers and coconut to break and receiving the blessed returns before descending back down the mountain.















On the 20th, the Nepalese celebrated the birth of goddess Saraswathi, making it also an auspicious day for marriage. So, when an unsuspecting twenty-five year old male relative of my host family, currently studying in Denmark, came to visit his family for the winter holidays, it came as no surprise to everyone that his family had “found a girl” for him to quickly wed before returning to Denmark. “Why wait another two years for his next visit?” they asked, as I pondered the idea of arranged marriages still taking place in this generation.

The shaadhi commenced with a small poosai (puja) for the groom at his family’s home before traveling with his side of the family and friends on buses to the bride’s home for the wedding ceremony. According to Nepali tradition, the mother of the groom and the father of the bride are not permitted to meet until after the wedding ceremony is complete, so it was quite strange to see the groom’s mother and most of the other mothers in the family left behind as we departed for the ceremony. I tried to find an explanation for this, but the only response I was able to get was, “It’s just an old tradition.” When we arrived near the bride’s home, the buses were emptied out and we were asked to walk, while some danced their way to the home, led by the nadhaswaram-gone-bad musicians.




During the initial ceremony, the bride and groom are brought together, and various members of the family are called forth to apply tika on their foreheads. The most unusual aspect of this practice is that the bride’s feet are placed on the edge of a silver bowl, and as they pour water over them as part of a ritual cleansing, a cupped hand is kept below the bride’s feet. After drinking this collected water, they rub their wet palms into their hair, treating the water as holy water. On one occasion, a female family member swung her hair under the bride’s feet in order to receive the full benefits of this practice. I had to find an explanation for this, because, though a practicing Hindu myself, I have never witnessed such a ritual. Though I hate to pass judgment on other people’s ways, this was certainly difficult to swallow---literally.





Shortly following this ritual, the priest prepared for the wedding poosai under a makeshift manavara of banana leaves and bamboo shafts. As I observed from a distance, it seemed as though the rituals and ceremony were merely a side event, as some guests complacently watched on from sprawled chairs during intervals from their conversations, while others went for walks around the neighborhood. After the very dramatic goodbyes were said between the bride and her family, the groom’s party bussed back to his home, where the festivities continued with singing and dancing under the moonlight.

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