Between Tradition and Change: A Day in Kathmandu

My Nepal Airlines flight (2-May-2026) to Kathmandu was delayed several times, and I finally landed around midnight. I was visiting Nepal primarily for a Himalayan trek—the Manaslu Circuit Trek. I had booked the trek through a local operator called Magical Nepal, which offered airport pickup and drop-off services. My driver was waiting for me outside the airport. After quickly purchasing an NTC SIM card, I headed into the city.

The drive from the airport to the hotel was fairly short, taking less than 30 minutes at that hour. My first impression of Kathmandu was that it felt remarkably clean. During the ride, my young driver and I chatted in Hindi about the Gen Z movement, the current political situation, and other topics. He seemed hopeful about the future. Along the way he showed me the Hilton hotel. During the September 2025 youth-led protests in Nepal, the Hotel was severely damaged and set on fire by demonstrators. The luxury hotel was targeted as a symbol of wealth and privilege during widespread anti-government and anti-corruption demonstrations.

Raju, a member of the hotel staff, checked me in, and I went straight to bed. The Nepali Heritage Hotel that I had booked was located in Thamel, Kathmandu's popular tourist district. Despite being in the heart of the city, it was tucked away in a quiet private compound surrounded by greenery, far from the crowds and noise.

The next morning (3-May), I took a walk around the neighbourhood. I came across a small shop run by a middle-aged couple where I stopped for tea. Here, tea is called chia. The place was part grocery store and part eatery, serving simple breakfast items and tea. Nepali songs played softly on the radio, giving the place a nostalgic atmosphere that reminded me of Suratkal in the 1980s.

I walked to the end of the road. It was drizzling, and students were making their way to school. Once again, I was struck by the cleanliness of the city.

The hotel had a rooftop restaurant where I had breakfast. Afterward, I got ready and set out to explore Kathmandu. I wandered through narrow streets lined with small shops selling everything from sunglasses to groceries. Along the roads were tiny shrines dedicated to Hindu deities such as Durga and Ganesha. People would often stop briefly to offer a prayer before continuing on their way to work.

Taking random turns through the streets, I eventually found myself at Kathmandu Durbar Square. It is a marvel in itself, home to numerous multi-storied temples and historic palaces. Locals spend hours here sitting on temple steps, playing games, chatting with friends, or simply watching the world go by.

The array of temples built in the distinctive Newari architectural style reminded me of the old Bollywood film Jewel Thief. Most of the temples were closed, but some had intricately carved lattice windows through which I could glimpse the deities inside. I managed to see the idol of Trailokya Mohan Narayan that way.

To enter the museum and several other monuments, visitors must purchase a ticket. For Indians and citizens of other SAARC nations, the fee was NPR 500. The woman at the ticket counter advised me to visit the Kumari House first, as a public viewing was scheduled shortly, and then continue to the museum and palace. At the time, I had no idea what she meant by "Kumari," so I began reading about the tradition.

The Kumari is a centuries-old Nepali tradition in which a prepubescent girl from the Shakya community is worshipped as the living incarnation of the goddess Taleju Bhawani. Chosen through elaborate rituals and believed to embody thirty-two perfections, she retains her divine status until puberty. The concept felt somewhat outdated and strange to me.

Tourists streamed into the Kumari House, and I followed them, displaying the ticket badge hanging around my neck. A few attendants directed us into the courtyard and instructed everyone to put away their cameras and phones. Photography was strictly prohibited.

Then, a young girl appeared a the window. With a red-painted forehead and attendants standing nearby, she gazed down at the crowd below. In that moment, I was reminded of Satyajit Ray's film Devi, and my heart sank. I could not help but think that this little girl was being deprived of a normal childhood. Without a word, I stepped away. I will leave readers to form their own opinions about the tradition.

I then headed to the palace, which was stunning. Newari architecture, indigenous to the Kathmandu Valley, is renowned for its intricate timber carvings, multi-tiered pagoda roofs, and exquisite exposed-brick masonry.

I climbed to the top of a seven-storied building, and the views through the carved wooden windows were spectacular. I also visited several museums within the palace complex, where beautiful paintings by Hari Prasad Sharma depict various aspects of Nepali life and culture.

From there, I walked to the statue of Kaal Bhairav, renowned as the world's only smiling depiction of Bhairava. Unlike the usual fierce representations of the deity, this statue bears a serene and enigmatic smile.

I found a spot on the steps of one of the temples and sat sketching. As I worked, two elderly men sitting nearby struck up a conversation with me. They spoke knowledgeably about Indian politics, Nepal's new government, and even recalled witnessing film shoots featuring Amitabh Bachchan. They reminisced about seeing Jeetendra and several other actors filming in Kathmandu.

"Now they don't shoot movies here anymore," one of them remarked.

They also mentioned that Govinda's wife was of Nepali origin. Although they never directly criticised the government, their comments about the country's new prime minister carried a distinctly sarcastic tone.

A young boy soon sat beside me and asked if I could draw Kaal Bhairav. He then asked for a chocolate, but I did not have one. Instead, I gave him one of my sketching pens, and he happily ran off with it.

The Taleju Devi Temple was closed. It opens to the public only on the ninth day of Navaratri.

Later, I walked through the bustling Ason Bazaar, one of Kathmandu's busiest marketplaces. Along the way, I visited a few temples and stopped to try bara, a traditional Nepali dish made from ground moong or urad dal. It resembled a thick lentil pancake, somewhat similar to a dosa.

Back at the hotel, I met a traveler from the Philippines who seemed fascinated by India. Visiting India was one of his dreams. He asked for recommendations, and I suggested a few places worth exploring. He was also doing the Manaslu Circuit Trek, though he was starting two days after me. During our conversation, he mentioned that he planned to move to another hostel that was slightly cheaper than ours.

For the rest of the afternoon, I sat in the dormitory sketching in my journal. In the evening, I wandered through Thamel, observing the shops and soaking in the atmosphere of the neighbourhood.

Thus, my first day in Nepal was well spent—immersed in its ancient history while listening to conversations about modern ideas and hopes for the future. I look forward to discovering more of this fascinating country in the days to come.

To Be Continued...