admin The doors of the temple are closed which means goddess is still asleep. We are early. As soon as we get off the bus, stray dogs surround us and make their show by jumping on their hindlegs, wagging their tails and smelling our bags. A cold wind is blowing. We wrap us with shawls and sweaters. Half-naked children surround us and make their show by saying ‘hello’, giggling without reason and extending their palms. The first sun rays appear shyly on the top of the snow-clad peaks, and slowly and magically the white peaks turn into golden. Cameras click and several ‘Wow’ and ‘Oh my’ are heard. Oblivious to the charming beauty of the Morning and the Himalayas, children are looking at us with expectant eyes. Some of them are obliged with a few coins by some of us. Leaving my foreign friends to goggle the sunrise on the Himalayas, I sit near the temple and look around. The temple compound is littered with papers, dry leaves, plastic bags and many unrecognizable things. A trail of dried blood of some poor innocent goat could be seen round the temple. Someone must have killed the animal and dragged its body round the temple to show their devotion to the goddess. Nepalis are religious people. Almost every street, lane and corner of the capital city has some tree, a stone or an idol which is the trademark of them being religious. My foreign friends approach the temple slowly. They start taking photo not of the temple but of an emaciated woman with a child tied by a piece of cloth on her back washing dirty plates.
The sunrays touch the cupola of the temple. Two tiny birds with long tails hop on the branch of a tree that touches the temple wall, and chirp noisily. It’s waking time of the Goddess. After a while the sounds of gongs and bells are heard – the priest is waking the goddess from her sleep.
o priest please don’t mind
the truth is, idols of your temple
are old and unkind