An account of our trip to Nepal - Day 8

 Day 8 – Triveni Dawn & Epilogue

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We woke to a river-scented morning at Gajendra Moksha Divya Dham, where the confluence of three rivers felt like a living hymn. The Narayani, Swarnabhadra, and Purnabhadra met in a slow, deliberate embrace, their currents whispering of the Varah Purana and the rescue of Gajaraj. In the courtyard, the idol of Narayana on Garuda stood resplendent, draped in bright cloth and heavy garlands that swung gently with the breeze. Students from the Vedic school chanted in measured cadence, their voices layering into a steady field of sound that made the whole place hum with calm energy.

Morning Rituals and Quiet Offerings

Inside the sanctum, the light was soft and golden. Suma moved through her routine with the ease of long practice, offering vastra and naivedya as if folding an old prayer into cloth and food. The priest promised to dress the deity in the cloth the next day and, true to his word, sent a photograph later, the next evening. Watching the students perform their daily recitations felt like witnessing devotion as a living craft, each gesture precise and unhurried.

                             Lord Narayana on Garuda      Mural depicting Gajendra Moksha

Lord Narayana decked with the Vastra from Suma 

Crossing Borders and the Forest Walk

Our route to Valmiki Ashram required a curious border dance: a brief crossing into India and then back into Nepal along a forest track. There was a small entry fee for vehicles, a reminder that even sacred paths have practicalities. We parked and set off on foot, the last 750-800 meters a damp, green corridor where sunlight filtered through leaves and the rivulet at the end gleamed like a silver thread. Vasu hoisted Nagendra on his back and carried him across the shallow water, a small, human kindness that felt emblematic of the day.

Valmiki Ashram and Living Myth

The ashram sits like a memory made visible. Idols of Rama, Sita, Lava, Kusha, Valmiki, Nandi, and Shiva occupy the sanctum, each figure placed with reverence and a storyteller’s care. The idol of Lord Hari Hara is quite an exquisite one – on the right bottom of the idol, we can see Mata Parvati, Kumara, Nandi, and Rishi Valmiki, and on the left, we can see Mata Sita, Luv, Kush, and Vanadevi (who was Mata Sita's sakhi). The priest guided us through the site, pointing out a stub of stone said to mark where Lava and Kusha tied the Ashwamedha horse, a large pit used for havans, and the very spot believed to be where Sita entered the earth. Walking those worn paths felt like moving through an epic: every stone and hollow seemed to hold a line from an old poem, and the air itself carried the hush of long-told stories.

                                      Hari-Hara, Rama, and other idols at Valmiki Ashrama

Some interesting pics: Place to keep water vessels, Havan Kund, Grinding Stone, Stump where Ashwameda's horse was tied by Lava and Kusha, and the place where Maa Sita went back into the Earth. 

Roadside Moments and Small Joys

On the drive toward Gorakhpur, the landscape opened into fields where a flash of blue announced a kingfisher, and a roadside vendor poured sugarcane juice that tasted of sun and soil. We stopped for a late lunch; Suma and I ate our pre-packed khichadi while others lingered over plates at a restaurant. The pause felt restorative – a simple, human counterpoint to the day’s mythic places.

Geeta Press and the Archive of Devotion

Our detour to Geeta Press was quietly moving. The grand entrance led into an exhibition of prints and publications that span a century, images of Gods and Goddesses rendered in styles that trace the history of popular devotion. The retail outlet opposite sells religious books in many languages at modest prices, and the whole place felt like a cultural heartbeat: modest, industrious, and deeply influential in how devotion is seen and shared across households.

                  Some of the Famous and  Classic Pictures at Geeta Press Museum

Grand entrance of Geeta Press

Homeward Bound and Final Reflections

We regrouped at Gorakhnath Temple and then made our way to the airport. A miscommunication with the tour operator and the drivers, about the vehicle rental charges, added a final, anxious note. Still, the flight home was uneventful, and we landed in the small hours. 

Looking back, Day Eight stitched together ritual and wilderness, quiet devotion and practical travel. The trip as a whole had been generous with challenges – missed timings, rough roads, and improvisations – yet those frictions sharpened the small acts of kindness and the clarity of the moments we did not miss. We returned with pockets full of photographs, bottles of river water, and a quieter, fuller sense of why people keep coming to these places: to touch stories that have been held by stones and rivers for generations.

Notes, Appreciation, et al

A few observations stayed with me. Nepal’s cleanliness surprised and impressed us: no litter-strewn roads and a visible system for garbage collection in even remote villages. The religious fervor of local people is palpable and sincere, and their care for shrines and rituals is a living culture rather than a tourist spectacle. 

A group with different personalities and characters, blended together with a common cause, over the last week or so, naturally had different dynamics. Squirmishes erupted, time and again, and were doused quickly, in a mature manner, without precipitating the matter. 

Suma with Rajneesh at Kamakhya Temple

I want to acknowledge our drivers, Rajneesh and Kamlesh, for their skill on difficult terrain and my fellow travelers for their company and patience. Timekeeping remained our main challenge and cost us a few visits, but the trip’s unexpected detours and human moments made the journey memorable in ways a perfect schedule never could.

Epilogue

And so, dear friends, as the curtain draws to a close, twelve weary pilgrims take their bow – grateful, humbled, and just a little amused. For the Almighty, in His infinite wisdom, not only opened the doors of His sacred shrines but also kept us safe through every twist and turn. Even at Muktinath, when anxious moments had us clutching our beads tighter than our backpacks, His grace turned panic into punchlines.

What began as a solemn pilgrimage blended with a comedy of faith and fellowship: one moment we were whispering prayers, the next we were whispering, “Did anyone pack extra eatables?” Each challenge was met not just with courage, but with laughter – the kind that makes fear look small and friendship look grand.

And now, as the lights dim and the echoes fade, we leave the stage with gratitude as our encore. The applause, definitely, belongs to Him, but the chuckles and memories – those, definitely, belong to us. For we discovered that even in the holiest of places, a little humor is heaven’s own way of saying: Relax, you’re in good hands.

The journey ends, the story lingers, and the curtain falls… with a wink.

Should anyone need more information about the places we stayed or visited, please feel free to drop a line or two in the comments, or better yet, contact me at +91 9108552645 or email rameshkatte@gmail.com.

An account of our trip to Nepal - Day 7

Day 7 – Morning in Shaligram Village

We woke with the residue of the previous night still clinging to us – tired bodies, muddied shoes, and a grateful relief at having found shelter. While the kitchen waited for milk, Suma and I slipped out into the soft morning, drawn by the village’s slow, deliberate rhythm. Narrow alleys wound between low stone houses, laundry flapped like small flags, and the air smelled of wood smoke and damp earth.

A cluster of temples rose unexpectedly from the lanes, and behind them a huge boulder loomed like a guardian. The priest, a man with a gentle, weathered face, told us the boulder was itself a massive saligrama, the reason the village bears its name. He spoke of full-moon nights when devotees bathe in the Gandaki and sit before the stone until they hear the sounds from conches and cows answering their prayers. The story felt like a charm; even the river seemed to lean in to listen.

Saligrama stone (rock) in the background

Shiva Linga with projection on its left side        Closed Ganesha Temple

The Shiva temple held a linga with a curious, snake-like form on its left side – an image I had never seen before and one that lodged itself in my memory. The Ganesh shrine remained closed, and time, as it often does on pilgrimages, nudged us onward.

Ruru Kshetra Arrival and Rituals

The road to Ruru Kshetra was unforgiving, but by 10:30, we had arrived and gratefully claimed a dormitory and a room for ablutions. Crossing a crude wooden bridge over the River Ridi felt like stepping into a story: prayer flags fluttered, pilgrims moved with quiet purpose, and the river sang beneath our feet. Ruru, often called Ridi or the “Banaras of Nepal,” sits at the confluence of the Kaligandaki and Ridi rivers and carries a weight of myth and devotion.

The Rishikesh idol in the main temple was imposing and intimate at once; its presence made the courtyard hush. Around it, temples to Tripureshwara, Shiva, Satyanarayana, Shantimukteshwara, Gayatri Devi, Ruru Kanya, and Radha Krishna formed a compact universe of worship. Suma offered a purple vastra, which the priest said he would adorn the idol the next day. True to his words, he sent a picture of the idol adorned with purple cloth.

                                  Tripureshwara Temple        Satyanarayana Temple

Gayatri Mandir, Ganesha Temple and the Bell with an exquisite image of Narayana

Hrishikesha Temple & Hrikesha idol with purple vastra

Exquisite idols of Durga, Narayana, Ganesha and Lakshmi Narasimha

We watched priests perform havans at Gayatri Devi Temple, their movements precise and steady, and photographed the light and faces until our memory cards were full. On the riverbank, we filled a bottle with Gandaki water, clear and cold, to carry home as a small, portable blessing.

Siddha Baba and the Ascent to Kamakya

After lunch and a quick vehicle clean – Rajneesh insisted on dusting our shoes before we climbed in – we paused at Siddha Baba Temple, a wish-fulfilling shrine where an akhand dhuni burned with a steady, orange heart. Statues of Shiva, Ganesh, Nag, and Mansa Devi gave the complex a timeless quality; devotees come with petitions and leave with quiet hope.

At Butwal, we boarded the cable car for Kamakya Temple. The ascent was a slow, panoramic unveiling: terraced fields, distant ridgelines, and the river like a silver thread. The temple complex, newly built yet already resonant, houses Maa Kamakya alongside Shiva, Narayana, Surya, and Lakshmi. We arrived in time for a sunset that bruised the sky with orange and mauve, and the hilltop felt like a threshold between earth and sky.

Sunset Aarti and Descent

Priests prepared the evening aarti with practised choreography; incense smoke curled like calligraphy, and bells stitched the air into rhythm. Vasu and others sat in meditation while we joined the aarti, feeling the chant vibrate through the stone and into our chests. The moment was quiet and expansive – a hinge between day and night that made the long roads behind us seem small.

Twilight found us in the cable car again, descending into a cooling world. Dinner was simple and satisfying: chapatis, rice, and dal for Suma and me, while others chose a variety of North Indian dishes. At a roadside tea stall, we watched Sridhar, with his endless curiosity, draw stories from the elderly couple who ran the place; their sons worked abroad, and they tended the shop with a steady, affectionate patience.

Gajendra Moksha and Evening Rest

We reached Gajendra Moksha Divya Dham and checked into Hotel Grand Triveni, a welcome patch of comfort after a day of temples and travel. The hotel’s rooms felt indulgent after the day’s rough roads, and sleep came quickly as fatigue folded into the pillows. The temple complex, at the confluence of three rivers, thrummed with students from the Vedic school performing rites with practised ease. Suma offered vastra and naivedya as she always did, and the priest promised to send a photograph of the deity adorned the next day.

Reflections on the Day

Day Seven stitched together contrasts: the hush of village shrines and the engineered sweep of a cable car, the intimacy of river water in a bottle and the grandeur of sunset from a hilltop. Small acts of kindness – a driver who washed our vehicle, a villager who pointed the way to a hidden bridge, Vasu carrying Nagendra across a rivulet – threaded the day together. Timekeeping by the group remained a challenge, but those missed moments became part of the journey’s texture rather than its failure.

We slept with the river’s distant murmur in our ears and the sense that the road would call us again at dawn.

An account of our trip to Nepal - Day 6

Day 6: 9th April 2026

The day began with the familiar tug between intention and reality. Quite relieved that our co-passenger, who had critical and emergency medical attention on the previous day, was quite healthy and appeared in good spirits. We had planned to start early after breakfast, but the slow, easy rhythm of the place and that of our group members conspired to keep us longer than intended. Still, there was a quiet excitement under the delay, a sense that the day would reward a leisurely beginning with unexpected moments.

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Kalika Devi Mandir

A short drive from the hotel brought us to the temple gate, where the path was flanked by a forest so lush it felt like a living house of worship. The air was cool and fragrant, each breath a small benediction. We compared the scene with what the same stretch might look like back home and shuddered at the thought of concrete and noise replacing this green hush. Instead, we filled our lungs with opulent oxygen and offered a silent thanks to Vana Devi, the Goddess of the Forest.

The temple itself appeared at the end of the walk, modest from a distance but regal up close. There was an orderly area to leave footwear and a place to wash hands and feet, a ritual that felt like stepping into a different tempo of life. Maa Kali presided in the main sanctum, fierce and compassionate at once, while smaller shrines clustered around her. Maa Kali is worshipped here in Pindi form. 

The Kalika Bhagwati Temple is a renowned Hindu pilgrimage site in Baglung, Nepal, dedicated to Goddess Kali (Kalika), built in the 17th century by King Pratap Narayan Singh Malla. Located in a protected forest, the pagoda-style temple is famous for its cultural and religious significance and high-altitude surroundings. 

According to local folklore, the King of Parbat District, Pratap Narayan Singh Malla, received an idol of the Goddess Kalika as part of the dowry in his marriage with King Manimukunda Sen's daughter. Whilst returning to his residence after the marriage ceremony, the bride, groom and others from the marriage procession took shelter in the forest. On the following day, not a single person was able to move the idol, so, the king constructed a temple on that spot.

Suma, with her unfailing memory for ritual, arranged the pooja and naivedhya with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. Families in holiday spirits filled the courtyard, their laughter and chatter weaving into the temple’s steady hum.

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Golden Gandaki Bridge

By the time we left the temple, it was nearly 10:30. The Golden Gandaki Bridge rose ahead of us, a suspension ribbon spanning over 500 meters across the Kali Gandaki. Crossing it felt like stepping onto a human-made nerve stretched across the valley. A gentle wind set the bridge to a slow sway as we reached the midpoint and looked down at the river threading silver through the gorge. The bridge’s long, linear perspective reminded me of a railway track laid across an empty plain, a line that both divides and connects.

Hanging bridge across the River Kali Gandaki

We lingered for half an hour, letting the views settle into memory. On either side, the hills rolled away in layered greens and browns, and the bridge itself felt like a small triumph of engineering and imagination, a place where human craft complemented the grandeur of nature.

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Saligrama Museum and Parbati Cave

From the bridge, we reached the Saligrama Museum founded by Sri Sreedhar Acharya. The museum houses thousands of Saligramas, sacred stones revered as forms of Sri Vishnu. The collection is astonishing in scale, uniqueness, and variety, and is housed in an underground cave shaped like a trident, which carries the hush of centuries. It is believed that Adi Shankaracharya meditated here. The museum complex also includes temples to Mukti Ram and Balaji and a Vedic School for boys. Unfortunately, the temple was closed after morning rituals, and we missed darshan, but the memory of the place stayed with us.

Varieties of Saligramas on display at the museum

Our next stop, Parbati Cave, felt like stepping into a myth. Administrators greeted us with folded hands, surprised and pleased that we had sought out this lesser-known shrine. We descended into a mini gorge past a temple under construction and then into the cave itself. The cavern is vast, its walls smoothed and sculpted by time into shapes that tease the imagination. Local lore says Maa Parvati performed penance here to win Shiva as her consort, and a small temple inside honors that devotion. Nandini and Vimla performed Bhagina, a ritual offering items associated with married women, while Suma dressed the idol of Maa Parvati in the garment she had prepared, and we all performed the aarti. 

Maa Parvati performing Abhisheka to Shiva (before and after dressing up)

Performing Bhagina ritual                            Ganesha 

Mystic formations on the cave walls and the ceiling

               

Views of the Cave 

Temple housing Maa Parvati and Entrance to the Cave

We were informed that there is a cave, within this cave, used by the locals at times, which leads to the neighbouring village. The cave’s inner surface seemed to hold a gallery of natural figurines, each shadow and curve inviting a new story. Our imaginations ran riot at the sight of the cave walls, and we could conjure many shapes of Gods and Goddesses. Very mystic, indeed!

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Panchkot Dham

After winding roads and a steady climb, we reached Panchkot Dham, a complex developed by the Akhanda Jyaotibaba Swami Shriji Charitable Trust. The site is ambitious, with plans for a 108-foot World Peace Kalash and a massive Muktinath Mahaghanta bell. We walked up to the temple where Krishna Gandaki is venerated, and explored the Sheesh Mahal, a house of mirrors that cradled marble idols of Radha and Krishna. On another terrace, a dramatic model of Garuda spread his wings, a vision that would be striking from a distance.

Maa Krishna Gandaki Temple                    Narayana on top of Garuda

Radha and Krishna in Sheesh Mahal

Imposing idol of Hanuman and the massive bell weighing 5.5 tons

View of the valley below Panchkot 

A towering Hanuman statue held the Sanjeevani Mountain in one hand, and nearby, a brass bell heavier than most of our imaginations weighed over five and a half tons. The priest shared a local etymology of Baglung, saying the name comes from the words for tiger and cave. The place felt both devotional and theatrical, a modern complex built to inspire awe and reflection.

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Night Journey to Ruru Kshetra and Conclusion

Dusk wrapped the hills in a soft, cooling blanket as we set off for Ruru Kshetra, also known locally as Ridi or Riri. Light drizzle began as we stopped for a final cup of tea, the road ahead already rough and longer than expected. Our driver, Rajneesh, reassured us about fuel and distance, but the road had other plans. We retraced, detoured, and threaded through dense forest, streams, and mud, the landscape alternately beautiful and unforgiving.

At one point, our other vehicle, Ertiga, lost traction and sank into soggy ground. Kind villagers came to our aid, and together we hauled it free, a reminder of how travel often depends on the generosity of strangers. Later, a sudden clatter on the Innova’s roof sent a jolt through us. For a terrifying moment, we feared a landslide, but the cause turned out to be a huge snake sliding down the slope. 

The night grew deeper, the road more treacherous, and by midnight, we faced boulders and a blocked path. Workmen in tents told us of a bridge that might lead to our destination, but warned that darkness made further travel unsafe.