Namaste Nepal
Nepal is one of my favorite places. It’s a big world and I rarely go back to places I’ve visited but Nepal is an exception. I can’t pinpoint exactly why I love Nepal so much but as I ponder the reasons, the most obvious one is it’s conducive to taking nice photos - the people have interesting, beautiful faces, and are friendly and generally willing to be photographed. The vibrant colors of their clothes as well as the colors they choose to decorate their living spaces are similarly bold and beautiful.
But my love for Nepal goes beyond photography. I love how spirituality permeates daily life. And when the clouds aren’t teasing you, I love seeing the majestic mountains, particularly the snow capped ones in the Himalayas. Nepal is also a safe place - I never worry that someone is going to steal my camera. And, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I love the inexpensive cost of living. But, I think I love Nepal most because of the people’s peaceful and kind natures, despite obvious hardships, Nepal being one of the poorest countries in the world.
I went to Nepal for three weeks in Feb - Mar 2024, with two friends, Kathy and Rod, primarily to attend my friend Sanjeeb’s daughter’s wedding. Sanj is my childhood friend of 50+ years - we were assigned to the same 7th grade class in New York City back in 1973.
The wedding was quite an extravagant affair. In a week’s time, there were four distinct celebrations - a bride’s reception, a Bollywood style dance party called a Sangeet (Sanskrit word, meaning “sung together”), the wedding ceremony and finally, a groom’s reception. I’m not a big fashion guy but during that week, I wore two different suits, a tuxedo and the traditional Nepalese outfit, the Daura Suruwal. It was a lot of clothes with matching shoes to haul in my suitcase, but, I must admit, it was a lot of fun getting dressed up.
The wedding events were straight out of a fantasy and stood in stark contrast to the life that most Nepalese live. In Kathmandu, the crowded, dusty, narrow streets appear chaotic as people hustle to make a living. Traffic can be horrible as vehicles and people compete with one another, each weaving in and out at incredibly close distances. I thought I might lose a foot! After my first two trips to Nepal, more than ten years ago, I came to the conclusion that the margin between life and death in Nepal is much narrower than back home. Americans like comfortable safety margins - design it to hold 1000 pounds even though it only needs to hold 200. At one point during my first trip, Sanj was driving in an alley and sped past a man holding a child. His side view mirror came within inches of delivering a harmful blow. When I yelled at Sanj to slow down, he was startled, not sure what I was yelling about. When I explained, he replied, “this is Nepal, I was a mile away!” I pondered if Nepalese people valued life differently, perhaps with less regard? During this trip, I came to the conclusion that’s simply not true. Although the safety margin between life and death may be narrower than what I’m accustomed to, in fact, that margin is a veil. If you look behind it, you’ll notice that the chaos is well-organized, incredible in its efficiency of motion. And this efficiency is based on trust - trust that each party will do what the other expects, which is the primary reason for the slim distance between life and death. It’s the struggle to live, to survive, when one is so close to the threshold, that creates the illusion that life may not matter as much.
In this struggle to survive, I bluntly saw how difficult life could be. More than once, I witnessed things that left me wondering, “how could some have so much and others so little?” But, fortunately, I also saw many things that just as bluntly helped me see how beautiful life can be. I hope these photos give you a small taste of some of the beautiful things. You’ll notice that I didn’t include any photos from the wedding. That’s because I made a conscious decision to leave my camera behind and fully enjoy those festivities. Thank you Nepal, Namaste!
