Nepal, Kailash and the Fragility of Life
What happened in Nepal is truly tragic…heartbreaking, deeply distressing, and an unimaginable loss. Yet, in moments such as these, we may also remember that Lord Shiva is the Lord of Moksha. He represents both beginning and end, creation and dissolution.
Rudra is understood as having two distinct aspects: the fierce and destructive form, Ghora, and the peaceful, benevolent form, Shiva or Aghora. In the Yajurveda, there is a beautiful prayer:
Tayā nas tanuvā śantamayā giriśantābhicākaśīhi ||
“O Lord Rudra, who dwells upon the mountains and bestows happiness, look upon us through your most auspicious, peaceful and non-terrifying form…the form that removes suffering and leads us towards spiritual illumination.”
Death is around us constantly. It follows us breath after breath, meal after meal, step after step. Yet we necessarily become unconscious of its presence; otherwise, perhaps, we could not live our everyday lives.
There is an old saying:
I remember my own Kailash Yatra thirteen years ago, in 2013. I travelled along some of the same roads that are now buried beneath enormous quantities of mud, and I passed through the same Chinese immigration facilities that have now reportedly been devastated.
At almost the same time as my pilgrimage to Kailash, an unimaginable catastrophe unfolded behind me at Kedarnath. The devastating floods swept away buildings, roads and lives. Thousands of people never returned home. The weather at Kailash itself was extremely severe.
The photograph accompanying this post was taken early one morning at Lake Mansarovar. I performed my Sandhyāvandanam prayers there. The water was bitterly cold, close to freezing. Only about a hundred metres away from me, a young person entered the water to bathe and tragically died there.
Our Kailash Parikrama was also engulfed in snowstorms. At times, the journey became extraordinarily difficult. Many pilgrims ahead and behind us died.
“I am your child. I have come to your home.
Do with me as you please.”
The physical pain did not disappear. The storm did not suddenly stop. But something within me changed. The journey became far more spiritual.
In the end, I completed my Yatra and returned safely to my home in London.
But I do not believe that this necessarily means that those who do not return are somehow less fortunate in a spiritual sense. We pray with particular expectations, yet sometimes the answer to prayer comes in a form entirely different from the one we imagined.
None of these reflections can remove the anguish of losing someone we love. Philosophy cannot erase grief, nor should it attempt to.
My heartfelt condolences go to every family that has lost a loved one in this tragedy. May those who are grieving find the strength to endure what words cannot adequately console.
My prayers are with the departed souls and with all those who remain behind in grief.
I also express my appreciation to the authorities in Nepal and China, the rescue personnel, volunteers, emergency workers and international organisations working under extraordinarily difficult circumstances to bring relief to those affected.
London, U.K.