around , many others felt the same struggle of emotions .
Another shriek of grief came from across the river , a body , draped in yellow silk , was lowered onto a stone bed that pointed toward the murky waters . Three men performed a touching ritual that seemed so personal I struggled to watch , a woman was dragged back as she sobbed , collapsing to her knees . I leant forward , offering a closer look , and realised a tear was crawling down my cheek .
To the left a fire stoked , pieces of wood moved about , pieces of who knows what repositioned . The smoke billowed across the river coating the onlookers with that familiar smell of sandalwood . Someone mentioned it was “ disgusting ”, it wasn ’ t .
Another pyre had reached its end , burning pieces of teak prodded into the riverside water , amongst the steaming logs a body part could be seen . Family members clambered into the water and with care broke apart the timbers , sending the remains on their way . A final gesture yet not in finality , ensuring life would continue .
My eyes wandered as the personal tributes went on . The Pashupatinath temple is of the Nepali pagoda style , an exquisite construction that is only available to the Hindu faithful although the structure seen from across the river was still impressive . Documents date the temple to the 4th Century however , the origins lie in conjecture as both Shiva and Parvati are said to have formed the foundations of what was to become the holy place and the temple . It seems fitting that Shiva is recognised as the origin of the temple as he is the deity of destruction and transformation conforming perfectly with the belief of karma and reincarnation .
TRAVERSE 113