One of the last days in Kathmandu before leaving. No more purchases of souvenirs, no more shops. We are quickly moving through the palace area and going towards the palace of the goddess Kumari.
If you are lucky enough to be born a girl in a particular country in a certain cast, you might live an ordinary life, or might become a goddess. With the disappearance of the kingdom and the advent of the Republic, the king of Nepal has lost the ability to be an incarnation of Lord Vishnu on earth. It was the politicians that had taken away his opportunity. Kumari, just like Dalai Lamas in Tibet, is reborn each time into a new body. However, in contrast to the Dalai Lamas, a girl becomes Kumari only for a while – until the “first blood”.
January sun rarely visits a small courtyard inside the palace of Kumari, which makes it cool and quiet. Quiet, except for couple locals that show up every now and then.
The life of a girl who became the embodiment of the goddess, in general, is not quite fun. Chances of leaving the palace are very rare- only during special ceremonies number of which is very limited. Walking on the ground is prohibited outside the palace – on the streets, she is carried around in special covered stretchers. Parents hardly ever see their own daughter and are only allowed to visit her occasionally.
It is believed that a gaze of Kumari brings happiness to mere mortals.
Ritual of choosing a new Kumari is very difficult – not only that the three-or four-year-old girl must be without any physical defects, but her horoscope must match the horoscope of kings. In addition, the selected child is subjected to various tests.
In Hindu traditions during the ceremonial dedication, a bindi- dot of red color, is applied to the forehead of the initiate. In Nepal, it may even be forcibly applied on in the streets, if you find yourself in a crowd on a holiday or just because.
Kumari is the only one who has the right to put the bindi on the king of Nepal himslef. The king worships her, as it was ordered by the goddess Taleju. It happens every year during the holiday Kumari Jatra, when Kumari is carried through the streets, accompanied by two little boys, who themselves are incarnations of the gods Ganesha and Bhairava. By applying the bindi on the king’s forehead, Kumari blesses the king to reign during the next year. By tradition, the king gives her a gold coin and touches her feet with his forehead.
My finger hurts from pressing the shutter button, but it is extremely difficult to otorvat’sya from the bas-reliefs. They are wooden at the top and made of stone at the bottom. The level of surreality and sophistication of the ornament images exceeds any expectations. I even unsuccessfully tried to look though the bars of lattice, but the cells were too small for my finger to fit.
It’s already past noon and I was still wandering through the inner courtyard of the palace Kumari, photographing the next piece of bas-relief, and cursing the ubiquitous pigeons. Suddenly, I felt a very intense look from one of the corners of the courtyard and it became clear I was not alone. Nepalese stranger was standing right in front expectantly and very carefully looking at my camera case and then in my eyes. He was literally boring my with his sight that shrill and harsh at the same time.
The next moment I caught a glimpse of movement in the opposite window, turned back and froze. There was a girl in red clothing carefully looking at me from the upper floor window.  She was hatless, her hair decorated with several colors, and the third eye on her forehead was clearly visible. The gaze of heavily eyelined eyes was very quiet; you could only see restrained curiosity. We looked at each other for twenty seconds.
All this time I felt the looks of those standing next to me focused on my arms. Later, I realized that they were making sure I wasn’t taking out my camera. It all happened so fast- taking pictures did not even occur to me. Realization of witnessing deity made me completely forget about photos.
Goddess disappeared as suddenly as she emerged. She just moved away from the window and another woman’s head flashed in the window, apparently, mentor. The ones next to me weren’t looking at me anymore either. I looked at the guard standing beside me- he was smiling. I smiled back as pigeon feces were flowing down my clothes. And so I left the palace with a silly smile on my face.
Ever since the king of Nepal was deposed, Kumari remained out of work. The dynasty ceased to exist, and the goddess now had no one to patronize, except giving blessing to the same officials and mere mortals.
Yet Kumari continues to live in the palace – the ordinary people need support. It is still safer that way even when things became routine.