Last weekend, I decided to go on a short hike. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The rain had come and gone, the sky was visible for the first time in days, and things seemed to be on an upwards trajectory.
I’m just gonna blame brain damage induced by the pollution for that decision and take absolutely no responsibility whatsoever. Anyway, we decided on the Jamchen Vijaya Stupa in Budanilkhantha as our destination. The logic behind it was that it was new and shiny and we aren’t the smartest people in the world.
The journey began on a mixed note. After a short bus ride to Budanilkanth, we set off towards the Stupa. As anyone who’s been to that area might know, the Stupa is immediately visible up on the hill, and it didn’t look too far away either.
Unfortunately, we ran into some trouble figuring out which road actually led to the place. Let’s just say that the most obvious-looking road might not be the correct one. In the end, we figured it out and started the trek up the hill.
Let’s take a break for a second and do a thought experiment. Close your eyes and imagine a Buddhist Stupa on top of a hill. Now imagine yourself climbing that hill, a physically grueling journey in search of enlightenment that awaits you at the summit. Now, whatever you might have imaged there, I don’t think a school bus full of shouting teenagers was a part of that imagery.
All throughout the trek, there was a weird dissonance between the destination and the aesthetics. The road to the top is a long gauntlet of stairs, reminiscent of the sort of self-flagellation monks would do to detach themselves from the joys of the world.
On the way there, though, we were subjected to lots of teenage drama and not even the barest taste of nirvana. Of course, it’s a tourist destination near Kathmandu, so I wasn’t surprised in the least.
It didn’t take too long for us to reach the top and we were presented with a view of the Jamchen Vijaya Stupa, and what a view it was.
The Stupa was hot, the sun was relentlessly beating down, the grey concrete only intensifying it, and no shade anywhere in sight. Below us, the Kathmandu Valley was barely visible between all the smog. From the house next door, loud hip-hop was blaring. The actual design of the Stupa was beautiful; it was bright and shiny, and everything you’d expect.
There are neatly trimmed hedges, neatly placed pots, neatly groomed lawn, etc. There are tourist destinations in Nepal that I can freely throw shade at for being poorly maintained, but this isn’t one of them. The interior of the Stupa is cooler, the art is beautiful, the statue of Buddha is a statue of Buddha. Regal and cold like always.
When I sat down to write this article, I thought about the sheer craftsmanship and thought that went into making it and found myself impressed. The thought came accompanied by a collection of sardonic but pointless witticisms (I bet Siddhartha didn’t have to deal with the fucking pollution while meditating). At the time, though, I thought nothing. It was far too hot to think.
In less than an hour, we reached the unfortunately familiar ground level of the Kathmandu Valley. A rest was on the cards for us, so we stopped by for some ice cream. Our order was coconut, chocolate, and cookies; arranged in descending order in terms of deliciousness.
10/10 ice cream, would definitely recommend. It was so delicious that we all finished eating before remembering to take a picture.
