Dubby Bhagat

Kathmandu

The entrance to the building is guarded by large stone lions. The window at which the Kumari can sometimes be seen and from where, in olden times, she gave darshan, is two stories above, exquisitely carved and gilded. Several other windows, adorned with deities, garudas, strange water monsters and dancing peacocks adorn the plain white facade. A triple finial rides the tiled roof like a golden boat in full sail. Carved windows and verandas open onto the courtyard. Nowadays the Kumari makes obliging appearances at one of these inner windows for crowding tourists. A notice near the stairs leading to the top floors warns — ‘For Hindus Only’ — who are permitted to enter an audience chamber where they may receive tika from the Living Goddess herself. Here, during the Indra Jatra, which coincides with the Kumari Jatra in early September, the king comes to receive tika from the Kumari and obtain from her the right to rule another year. In exchange, he presents her with a golden coin and touches his forehead to her feet.

Many are the stories current in Kathmandu of how the Kumari

has failed, for one reason or the other, to bless a suppliant king, and how tragedy has resulted. There is the tale of a Rana maharaja who, failing to receive the Kumari’s blessing, was soon after exiled by his avaricious brothers. Another describes how a vaidya treating the Kumari for some minor ailment, somehow offended her. He no longer lives to tell the tale. Such an aura of mysticism understandably attaches itself to a child of such

singular importance.

Though worshipped and revered as a Hindu goddess, the Kumari is selected from the Newari caste of Shakya goldsmiths, who are Buddhists. She must have the 32 virtues, among which are an unblemished body, the voice of a bird, the neck of a duck. She must never cry or show fear, nor bleed at puberty or as a result of any of the small injuries that normal children experience. Her horoscope must match that of the king in every detail.

The tantric rites surrounding the selection of a Kumari are so well guarded that few know really what passes. The child is only three or four years old when discovered much too young to have the capacity to put on an act taught by her parents. One of her many required virtues are to have an emotional control that would be the envy of most adults. To test her courage, for instance, it is said that the child must spend a night in a temple surrounded by the severed heads of sacrificed animals. Grotesquely masked men leap and scream about her. Amazingly, she emerges from her ordeal without a trace of fear. The festival of Indra, the Lord of the Heaven, who once visited the Kathmandu valley in the guise of a handsome mortal, and Kumari, the Living Goddess, blend together. All Kathmandu gathers from dawn to watch the procession of raths, crowding nearby temple plinths, windows, balconies and roofs. The king, himself considered a reincarnation of Vishnu, his ministers, officials and foreign dignitaries, appear on a balcony of the old palace, from where the king showers coins upon the Kumari and her attendants, two virgin boys, who represent Bhairab and Ganesh.

Each is enthroned in a rath of his own. A goat is sacrificed in front of the Kumari’s chariot, muskets fire a startling volley and the procession moves. The young Living Goddess dressed in gold and fine silks, bejewelled and exotically painted, sits serenely among her attendants. Masked dancers leap and brandish swords. Colourfully dressed tantric Buddhist priests chant mantras. The crowds press forward to take a turn on the chariot ropes.