Patan is crowded and noisy, full of banal hoardings and traffic going haywire. It’s an ordinary modern city, its outskirts practically a part of Kathmandu. But Lalitpur, ah, Lalitpur is the stuff of dreams.
An ancient and prosperous city on the principal historical trade route between India and Tibet, Lalitpur (Patan in Nepali and Yala in Newari) is emblematic of the way the Kathmandu Valley has been the repository and interpreter of the cultures of its two principal neighbours; especially in its role in keeping alive traditions that have long vanished from India. This unique quirk of history — and geography — has left a deep mark on the cultural traditions of Lalitpur, the most stunning of which is the city’s art. More than a thousand years of exquisite sculptural aesthetic — in stone, wood and metal — has produced a living space where stunning works of art casually lie around at every turn — here a delicately carved chaitya, there an ornate Hanuman shrine, elsewhere a ridiculously pretty wood and brick storehouse. In this city that was consciously built to reflect a cosmic mandala, nothing is tacky and everything is exalted.
Visiting Lalitpur is like going on a pilgrimage in search of beauty, and like thousands before me, I start my wanderings in the Durbar Square. Early in the morning, the tour buses have already begun disgorging armies of camera-wielding tourists while flower vendors set up shop in front of the temples. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Durbar Square with its collection of palaces, royal courtyards, water wells, pillars and temples is the centre of Lalitpur and the city’s ancient wood-carved neighbourhoods (called twah in Newari) radiate from this centre. The Malla kings who built the bulk of the architectural marvels in the square between the fifteenth and the eighteenth centuries were primarily Vaishnava kings whose royal cult was that of Taleju, a fierce goddess redolent of both Vajrayana Buddhism and Saiva Sakta worship. The buildings of the square reflect the Mallas’ devotion to Brahminical cults.
And what buildings. I wander among the seven major temples dedicated to the two high gods, Shiva and Vishnu. These are either wooden pagodas, or stone shikharas. The Hari Shankar and Vishvanath temples, with their deep wooden canopies, seem to be the locals’ favourite spots for general lounging and short naps. Old men eat fruits or take naps under exquisite wood-cut Vishnus, groups of girls laugh over an SMS under fine carvings of energetic sex. People mill about everywhere, from vegetable vendors to schoolchildren, everyone passing through, stopping for a chat or to tie a shoelace.
Rivalling the woodwork of the pagodas is the stone Krishna temple, a monumental shikhara-style structure, quite commonly regarded as a masterpiece of Newari architecture. Commissioned by Narasimha Malla in AD 1636, the temple is constructed in three stepped platforms, forming three pavilions. The lowest floor of the temple consists of a columned arcade surrounding the structure, while the next floor is a collection of mini shikharas. From this rises the lofty body of the principal shikhara itself. The columned floor is inscribed all the way around with tiny statues of the many avatars of Vishnu.
The Kathmandu valley has been practising a unique style of religious syncretism from very early times. In part this is due to the fact that throughout their history, cities like Lalitpur were ruled by a courtly elite who were either Shiva or Vishnu worshippers, while the general Newar population (especially in Lalitpur) were mostly devout Buddhists. They were all ultimately animists, the most visible aspect of which are the prolific naga deities seen everywhere. I make a beeline for the Patan Museum, housed in one section of the old palace of the Malla kings, and come face to face with the most famous example of this commingling of religious beliefs — the famous golden window or the lunjhah above the entrance. A stunning work of repoussé art in solid gold, it shows the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, here known as Srishti Kartr Lokeshvara, giving rise to the entire pantheon of Brahminical gods.
Patan Museum is probably one of the finest in the subcontinent. Instituted in 1997 to house the thousands of art treasures recovered from the burgeoning international smuggling trade, the museum works as a fine primer in showcasing the Newari talent in fashioning sculptures of great beauty and sophistication. Divided into Buddhist, Brahminical and Tantric art, the museum is a sensory delight. Metal sculptures abound; finely wrought copper and gold, silver and brass, speak of a time when art trends, freshly minted in the Buddhist Pala kingdom of Bengal and Bihar, would travel through the Himalayan foothills along with goods to be traded with Tibet and central Asia and set up shop here in the valley. The Newars added to this a taste for gold gilding, and an expertise in cire perdue or lost wax metal casting. The museum contains some of the best examples of this you can find anywhere — gorgeous Chakrasamvaras and Guhyakalis stun you at every turn.
To the north of the museum lies the Manga Hiti, one of hundreds of such elegantly carved stone waterspouts in the city. The hitis form an intricate system that supplies water to the city from various ponds and lakes. Each of the hitis is of casual architectural brilliance, the pipes resembling the open mouths of mythical makaras. The earliest hiti has been dated to Lichhavi times in the first millennium AD. Despite their grandeur, the locals treat them with the same nonchalance that they do the rest of their incredible environment — they fill buckets, have baths, wash faces. They take a breather at the adjacent wood-carved Mani Mandap — which used to serve as the site for royal coronations—and go on their way. Makeshift stalls selling beautiful carved mementoes, from giant vajras to tiny Ganeshas, surround the hiti.
Both Hinduism and Buddhism in the Kathmandu Valley are highly tantric, another direct influence of early medieval Indian culture. This influence is especially overwhelming in the type of Buddhism practiced by the Newars. They are the only surviving Buddhist community in the world whose liturgical texts are in Sanskrit, and whose beliefs and rituals are heavily coloured by the final phase of Indian Buddhism that flourished in eastern India from the seventh to the fourteenth centuries, before disappearing completely. A visit to the various Bahah and Bahi in the city gives the eerie feeling of looking at our own past, refracted through the lens of a particular Himalayan culture. Newar names for Buddhist viharas, these sanctuaries preserve the texts and culture of the famous Indian monastic complexes like Nalanda and Vikramashila, Somapura and Ratnagiri. Two of the largest and finest viharas are the Rudravarna Mahavihara (Uku Bahah), southeast of the Durbar Square and Hiranyavarna Mahavihara (Kwa Bahah), to the northwest. If Durbar Square is the main draw, then the viharas are the beating heart of Lalitpur.
I ask my way around the wood-carved marketplace of Mangal Bazaar and head for the Mahabaudha Temple. On exiting the main road at Mangal Bazaar, I plunge into a dense warren of alleys, a surreal labyrinth of overhanging balconies and networks of doorways — all beautifully carved, of course — past art ateliers run by Lalitpur’s famous master craftsmen. These are almost all either Vajracharyas or Sakyas, the two main Buddhist ‘castes’ of the Kathmandu Valley. Apart from their metalwork, they constitute the hereditary householder monks of the Vajrayana monasteries of the valley. Once the brilliance of the Pala artists waned, the Newars took over as the sculptors of choice for Tibetans and the Chinese. The most famous of these was the legendary Araniko who became Kublai Khan’s court artist and provided a vital link between the art traditions of India and China. A few more twists and turns and I’m suddenly in front of a narrow little gateway. Inside, a courtyard and a towering brick temple — the Mahabaudha.
The Mahabaudha Temple was built by Abhaya Raj Sakya in 1564, modelled after the Mahabodhi Temple in Bodh Gaya (which the Newars still refer to by its old name, Vajrasana), which Abhaya Raj had visited on pilgrimage. His family is an illustrious one, having supplied royal repoussé artists to the Malla kings. The latest in line is the sculptor Raj Kumar Sakya, famous for his 113-foot Padmasambhava statue in Bhutan. The artwork on the temple is a marvel, consisting of tapering tiers of carved bricks depicting the Buddha in the bhumisparsha mudra in a thousand iterations, buttresses shaped like lions about to pounce, Mahakalas, Vidyadharas, gryphons, lions and elephants. The old temple was destroyed by the calamitous 1934 earthquake but has been rebuilt with international funding. A group of Tibetan monks were paying their respects at the main shrine behind a huge vajra on a carved stone pillar showing the Dharmadhatu mandala, while the Sakya dyahpahla (gatekeeper), a young man with curly hair, was lighting lamps.
Neighbouring houses hemmed in the courtyard, and the sight of someone’s washing hung out to dry only added to the mystique of the place. The main temple is flanked by two smaller ones, apart from separate shrines honouring Mayadevi, the Sakyamuni’s mother, and a Lichhavi-style chaitya, and another carved pillar holding a large gold vajra.
Uku Bahah is a short walk south from the Mahabaudha, but Kwa Bahah was what I really wanted to see. So I retraced my steps, the sun high in the sky, and leaving the gawping tourists behind at the Square, I entered another mess of lanes that make up the neighbourhood of Nag Bahah. Dubbed the Golden Temple, the Kwa Bahah is easier to find. Another gate suddenly appeared beside a lane, flanked by two elephants with riders. Entering the gateway under a richly decorated lintel depicting the esoteric Dhyani Buddhas, the long passage continued, past a ticket-counter where I opened my shoes. Another gateway appeared, with yet another carved lintel showing the multiple-armed Pancharaksha goddesses topped by a small chaitya and flanked by carvings of the Buddhas Vairochana and Amitabha.
Inside, the passage opened out into a large quadrangular courtyard, sweet with the scent of incense, the murmur of prayers and the low tinkling of bells. The architectural riches of the courtyard are breathtaking. The vihara is a three-dimensional mandala, and at its centre rises a large Swayambhu chaitya encased in gold canopy and surmounted by the customary naga deities. Four gold banners ran down from the top. The chaitya is ringed around with beautiful gilded sculptures of Buddhas, Bodhisattvas and twelve Avalokiteshvaras corresponding to the different months. On the four corners of the chaitya loomed four large and fierce vyalas (leogryphs) while four dreamy Avalokiteshvaras (dating to the 11th century AD) stood on the four corners of the courtyard. The main shrine of the principal deity (the kwabaju) is a monumental three-tiered pagoda, housing a large image of the Sakyamuni Buddha. The golden façade of this temple is what gives the Bahah its name.
A tonsured young boy in a beige monk’s robe hung around the intricately carved doorway of the shrine shooing away invading pigeons. The bapacha or boy-priest is a fixture of the Kwa Bahah. According to tradition he must always be younger than twelve and a new priest is appointed every month. The brass and silver doorway is topped by a gorgeous repoussé bas-relief of the Buddha sitting in the bhumisparsha mudra flanked by his two main disciples Sariputra and Maudgalyayana. Inside the shrine, the large image of the bejwelled Buddha is wreathed in a ceremonial shawl, with an elaborate crown on his head. About his entire body is a huge prabhamandala intricately carved in gold. Outside the shrine runs a beautiful carved panel showing various life scenes of the Buddha. A ring of Tibetan prayer wheels, of very recent vintage, circled the entire courtyard, and I noticed many Tibetan worshippers, alongside the Newars.
The design of the complex represents all the three main vehicles or yanas of Buddhism. So if the main shrine represents the basic exoteric Shravakayana, the large Tibetan-style image of Amoghapasha Lokeshvara on the first floor is the main Mahayanic deity. Also on the first floor is the principal Vajrayanic deity of the Kwa Bahah — Yogambara locked in a passionate embrace with his consort, Jnanadakini. This shrine is off limits except to the officiating head Vajracharya of the monastery. The reason for this particular deity’s presence is quite interesting. He is the tutelary deity of the Anuttarayoga Tantra which was made famous by the Indian Vajracharya Abhayakaragupta in the Vajravali, a large and important compendium of esoteric rituals written in Vikramashila in the eleventh century. The monk Jivayibhadra made a copy of the Sanskrit original at the Kwa Bahah in the fifteenth century, and Yogambara became the principal tantric deity of the vihara.
The Kwa Bahah is the repository of yet another famous text, the gold-lettered Ashtasahasrika Prajnaparamita — a key Mahayana text written in India around the 1st century AD — which is ritually recited here to gain merit. The manuscript, copied from an Indian original in the twelfth century, is copied afresh about once every century, thus maintaining a continuous tradition for the past thousand years, while the original texts and their authors have been lost or forgotten in India.
Standing by the chaitya shrine with its mind-boggling array of votive sculptures, each one of spectacular craftsmanship, the mantra of Avalokiteshvara, ‘Om Mani Padme Hum’ buzzed around in my head. It was all too much, and yet, as my only day at Lalitpur ended, I hadn’t had enough. But as they say, another day!
The Information
Getting there
Air India, Jet Airways, SpiceJet, IndiGo and Royal Nepal provide daily connections from New Delhi to Kathmandu. Patan is about 7km from the capital across the Bagmati river (taxis cost NPR 200).
Getting around
The best way to see Patan is on foot. City maps are easily available, and when in doubt ask for directions.
Where to stay
Patan has some excellent small hotels and guesthouses. Newa Chén (from $17; +977-15533532, newachen.com) is a restored traditional Newari house on the road to the Kumbeshwar temple. The neat and unfussy Durbar Guest House (from $10 doubles; 15540034, durbarguesthouse.com) on the way to the Mahabaudha temple is also a great option.
What to see & do
At the Durbar Square (entry fee of NPR 150 for SAARC visitors), visit the Sundari Chowk with its gorgeous royal hiti called Tusha Hiti, and the Mul Chowk with its excellent wood carvings, and two fine statues of Ganga and Yamuna. These two and the Mani Keshav Narayan Chowk make up the Royal Palace. The Keshav Narayan Chowk contains the Patan Museum (SAARC country visitors’ fee NPR 150; 10.30am to 5.30pm; patanmuseum.gov.np). The main temples of the Durbar Square include the five-storied pagoda of Degutale temple to the northeast. South to north are the octagonal stone Chyasim Deva temple, the Taleju Bell, the wooden Hari Shankar temple, the stone Vishnu temple, the elaborately carved wooden Jagannarayan temple, the stone Krishna Mandir with the Garuda statue, and the two wooden pagodas of Vishvanath and Bhimsen temples. Directly opposite the Vishvanath temple is the Manga Hiti. The Mahabaudha temple and the Rudravarna Mahavihara — the oldest Bahah in Patan — are to the southeast off Mangal Bazaar. The Hiranyavarna Mahavihara is to the northwest. North of the Durbar Square is the five tiered pagoda of the Kumbeshwar temple. South of the Square is the Matsyendranath (or Rato Machhendranath) temple dedicated to Patan’s principal deity Avalokiteshvara. Nearby is the Lichhavi period Minnath temple also dedicated to the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara.
The four cardinal directions of old Patan are marked by four massive stupas said to be raised by Ashoka.