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.

---

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. 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.

---

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.

---

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

Temple housing Maa Parvati and Entrance to the Cave

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!

---

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                 Shrine dedicated to Shiva 

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.

---

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.

An account of our trip to Nepal - Day 5

Day 5: 8th April 2026

The morning air bit into our skin – temperatures hovering in the low single digits – as we set out for Muktinath, perched nearly 3,000 feet above Kagbeni’s altitude of 9,200 ft. Oxygen levels here were barely 70% of sea level, and every breath reminded us that we were guests in the Himalayas. Snow-capped peaks framed the horizon, silent witnesses to our climb.

  

        

 A view of the River Kali Gandaki from our balcony at Kagbeni

The ascent was deliberate: 300 steps, carefully engineered to ease the burden of pilgrims. For those unable to climb, dolis carried by bearers and mules offered alternatives. But we chose the steps, each one a heartbeat closer to salvation.

      

           Entrance to the 300-odd steps                          Snow freckled environs

At the summit, snowflakes began to fall, soft at first, then gathering strength. Frenzied devotees rushed to the 108 water spouts (Muktidhara), fed by the icy Kali Gandaki River. Cow-headed spouts lined in a semicircle poured freezing torrents, and tradition demanded immersion. First, a dip in the twin ponds opposite the temple, then a shower under the spouts.

              108 spouts pouring ice-cold water                         The two ponds in the foreground

Stripping down to boxers, Ravi and I braved the ritual. We dashed under the spouts, gasping as the icy water struck, then plunged into the ponds. Suma, ever the guardian of tradition, reminded us of the correct order – ponds first, spouts after. So, back we went. Action replay. Double whammy. Snow intensified, but so did our resolve.

Nagendra, our co-traveler who had lost both legs below the knees in a tragic accident, was carried through the ritual by his friend Srivatsa. His courage lit up the group – proof that faith conquers physical limits.

The queue for darshan stretched serpentine, nearly 30 minutes to reach the sanctum. Inside, the copper idol of Sri Muktinath Vishnu, seated in padmasana, radiated serenity. Revered by Hindus as the Lord of Salvation and by Buddhists as a sacred site, it was a rare confluence of faiths. Performing aarti here felt like touching eternity.

Lord Muktinath (an old picture, as photography is prohibited now)

Nearby, the giant Buddha statue stood sentinel, visible from the walking track. And then, the marvel of Jwala Mai – the Eternal Flame. Natural gas seeped through rock, burning continuously on water, a mystical union of fire and water, symbolizing the five elements.

Descending was harder than climbing. Snow thickened, umbrellas opened, and we sought shelter in shacks. At -1°C, hot tea became nectar. But the day’s drama was only beginning.

An elderly lady at the next table collapsed into a cold attack. Mistaken camphor (actually naphthalene balls!) shocked us, but Vasu sprang into action – rubbing the soles of her feet, generating heat, and reviving her with hot water. Relief washed over us. Moments later, a teenage girl suffered the same fate. Another rescue, another sigh of relief.

But providence wasn’t done. One of our group ladies convulsed – lockjaw, bleeding from her tongue, oxygen levels plummeting. Panic gripped us. Her husband prayed desperately, while an insensitive onlooker tried filming the ordeal. Suma, furious, slapped the phone out of his hands – a moment of righteous rage.

The doctor arrived, but the oxygen cylinder was empty. Another center’s cylinder – also empty. Tension peaked. An injection stabilized her, and finally, an oxygen generator brought relief. Her blood sugar was dangerously high, compounded by inadequate clothing against the cold. The doctor advised immediate transfer to Jomsom Hospital.

Finding a taxi was another ordeal. Time stretched painfully until one arrived. She was rushed to Jomsom, accompanied by group members. The rest of us packed hurriedly, lunch hastily served by Pema, and we followed. We had to forego performing the rites for our departed members of our families due to the fiasco. Man Proposes, God Disposes!

At Jomsom Hospital, oxygen revived her. After hours of monitoring, she was discharged with strict instructions: oxygen support until reaching a lower altitude and follow-up in Baglung. Santosh, our charioteer, became guardian of the oxygen flow.

Late at night, we reached Baglung, checked into Hotel Peace Heaven, and sent her straight to the hospital. Dinner – simple rice and dal – waited, but our appetite was for good news. When the companions returned – bringing her back, with word that she was stable – relief swept through us. Gratitude replaced exhaustion. We hit the bed, hearts heavy with the day’s trials, yet thankful for divine grace.

A word of caution to the travellers visiting Muktinath in particular, and high altitude places in general:

Don't forget to carry camphor and an Oxymeter. Drink plenty of water and take necessary precautions if you have high blood pressure and/or diabetes.

---

Day 5 was a theatrical crescendo – snow, sacred rituals, near tragedies, and miraculous rescues. It carried the weight of myth and the fragility of human life, reminding us that pilgrimage is not just about reaching temples, but about surviving the journey with faith, courage, and compassion.

An account of our trip to Nepal - Day 4

Day 4: 7th April 2026

The morning began with routine efficiency – breakfast, luggage reloaded, and once again we boarded our rides after taking a few pics with the owner. The road ahead was a mid-distance journey of 130 km, about three hours, leading us to Pokhara, a city cradled by mountains and myths.

Our Group

Sridhar, Ravi, Suma, Yours Truly, Vasu, Srivatsa, Vimla, Nagendra, Nandini & Sribhargav

Our destination was the famed Bindvasini Temple, perched atop a hillock. The climb was modest – under 100 steps – but for those less inclined, an elevator stood ready, charging a small fee for convenience. At the summit, devotion met grandeur. The temple precincts housed not only Maa Bindvasini but also a towering Shiva temple, guarded by a bronze Nandi. Inside, the Ashta Chiranjeevis, the Navagrahas, and other deities watched silently. Opposite stood a smaller complex with idols of Sita-Rama, Lakshmi-Narayana, and Radha-Krishna, each shrine a chapter in the epic of faith.

        

Complex of 3 pairs of deities                                 Bindvasni Temple

            

           The Bronze Nandi opposite Shiva Temple                              Sita-Ram

    

Radha-Krishna                                     Lakshmi-Narayana

From the hillock, the view was breathtaking. Snow-capped peaks shimmered on the horizon, their majesty framed by the warmth of the valley below. For a moment, silence reigned among us – eyes feasting, hearts humbled.

     

View from the hillock

Descending reluctantly, we boarded a local ride – a 10-seater electric vehicle, surprisingly powerful. This EV would be our companion for the next two days until Baglung. Our vehicles were stopped from going further towards Muktinath due to some local politics of the cartel. Suma and I, seasoned in foresight, had packed two days’ clothing into backpacks, leaving our main luggage behind. Others, ignoring our advice, hauled their entire baggage onto the EV and soon regretted it.

Negotiations for advance payment consumed nearly an hour, roasting us in the midday heat inside the vehicle. Finally, around 2:00 pm, we set off toward Kagbeni, 165 km north of Pokhara, a 4½-hour drive.

Barely a few kilometers in, the skies opened. Rain poured, and those who had stashed luggage atop the vehicle now fretted, tarpaulin or not. A roadside shack offered respite. Lunch orders varied – noodles for some, Seel Rotis for others – while Suma and I, ever prepared, devoured our pre-packed meal. Tea warmed us before we resumed.

The road to Kagbeni was unforgiving – potholes, stretches without tarred surfaces, and rugged terrain. Yet the EV impressed, gliding through with resilience. Nepal’s embrace of electric mobility was evident; charging stations dotted even remote corners. We stopped for a recharge – NR 20 per percentage of battery, our EV was fully charged in 40 minutes. Snacks filled the wait.

Then came a moment of drama. One lady, who had indulged in noodles, developed gastric distress. Enter Vasu, our healer. With acupressure and marma chikitsa, he worked his magic. Burps punctuated the treatment, and within ten minutes, she was restored. We watched in awe – science and spirituality converging in his hands.

Through drizzle and unmanned check-posts, we pressed on. Kagbeni awaited, not just as a destination but as a sacred rendezvous. Here, rituals for departed family members were to be performed, guided by a local pundit. Our plan had been to arrive by 3:00 pm, but delays pushed the rites to the next day, after visiting Muktinath.

By 9:00 pm, we reached Hotel Nilgiris. Those with luggage atop the vehicle cursed their fate, drying clothes with hair dryers and irons. Dinner, however, redeemed the day. Preordered Gobi Parathas, dal, and curds, prepared by host Pema and her team, turned into a feast. Perhaps the best meal of the trip, capped with masala tea. Satisfaction echoed in burps, laughter, and weary smiles.