Kathmandu:

Who am I?

Such an immense treasure for you,

Oh God that you hold me

with your own hands

and keep me in the midst

of your great love.

your hands wrapped around me,

totally protecting, secure...

Such were the lines that Aama Tekla’s friend, Mariane recited as we met to discuss Nepal and the crazy wisdom of Nepali saints and shamans.

Aama Tekla’s quote from Christ’s sermon to his disciples, “Take your bed and walk’’ became my motif as I woke up early morning in the spa town, Bad Hersfeld, Germany. From my breakfast table I saw a Nepali flag fluttering along with several Buddhist prayer flags against the green mountains dotted with boraque-style German houses.

Humming to the rustle of the flags, I tried to review the quiet and motionless life in Europe as compared to dusty Kathmandu and noisy New Delhi. It was so very quiet and spotlessly clean, at times to the extent of being quite monotonous and lifeless.

What poet Thomas Schneider said the other day in Kathmandu about the sleep of Europe seems true. Is Europe really sleeping? Is it cold and damaged inside? Thomas liked the warmth of the people speaking loudly and often shouting in Asia compared to very quiet, withdrawn and low pitched Europeans.

The very next moment, I had started missing the bustling bazaars back home — Asan, Bhotahity, Baneshwore and New Road.

But Aama Tekla’s chatter, like the birds outside, kept my mind busy. The way this 75-year-old German woman celebrated Nepal in her little town is more than anyone can do for the Himalayan country.

A small reading from my Everest book was more than the mammoth Frankfurt Book Fair where I had spent almost a week meeting Nepal lovers from all over. At our tiny Nepal stall, the scene remained vibrant as the Nepal lovers blocked the passages making inquiries to visit new Nepal.

Aama came from Bad Hersfeld and kept tirelessly talking of Nepal and the glory of the Himalayas.

Aama’s Bad Hersfeld turns out to be a small town preparing to celebrate Germany’s oldest festival, Lulu’s festival.

Lulu remains one of the disciples of the English Missionary, Boniface and came to Bad Hersfeld 1,270 years ago. He set up and built the biggest monastery here. But today only ruins of once a powerful building remain. The Romanesque monastery was reduced to ashes by the French soldiers during the World War.

Every year during the festival, they organise dramas and opera in the monastery-turned-open air theatre. It appears strange to be there in this roofless theatre. A huge shattered stone cup lies in the open as if remonstrating against human errors to quell sparks of life in the lanes of history.

There was hardly anyone on the street of the small town as Aama Thekla moved with her digital camera. I took photographs of beautiful doors, windows, flowers and stones. It looked like no one lived in the houses painted and clean like figures on a huge canvas.

The church towers, the sculptor of the saviour of the city who burned only four houses in four directions as Napoleon ordered him to burn the city. But he loved this city where the bread is sweet and people, like the Nepalis, even sweeter. He adored the old houses and the squares.

Along the passage you see a sculpture piece with about six figures lined up carrying buckets of water and ropes to save the church on fire. But it was only an error of judgement. In fact, it was just a net of mosquitoes circling above the church. The simple folk thought the local town church was on fire. That Hersfeld people built the sculpture showing the gullible people rushing to save the church on fire represents the tolerant face of the people of the county. It reflects their fine sense of humour. Also how the fears of deadly fires often ravaged the lives of simple people leading humble

lives in the dark corridors of history.

Saint Lulu’s clay

soft spa town

like touch

of Aama Tekla

her heart

mottled from embroidery

of light and shade that

little Buddha in cosmic trance

in her garden spreads

as the prayer flags flutter

and birds of colour

come to bathe,

shake wings like saints

in the crimson glory

of a German autumn.

Lulu’s fire burns

in the heart of Aama Tekla

warming Buddha’s wise ears

to build a monastery

of a new religion

for the lonesome

travellers of the world.

The writer can be reached at writer@yuyutsu.de