I’d come to the river with a hole in my soul.
Shattered by the recent death of my canine companion, Tucson, I’d made my way from the madness of Kathmandu to the banks of the Sun Khosi River. Although I’d told others I’d come for rest and relaxation, deep inside I sought a place for the legitimate suffering and multi-layered emotions that I knew lay ahead of me.
Climbing the steps of a riverside temple, I crested a hilltop enshrouded in banana and bamboo. After entering a gate, I wove beneath the rounded white domes, and tikka-coated altars portraying Shiva, Brahma and Krishna. Inhabiting the temple grounds were a scattering of devoted Hindus, each chanting prayers. Chants that mixed with the incense as it streamed through the thick jungle air.
Catching their attention, I fell beneath the weight of their curious stares. Stares that had me returning to the quiet of the river.
As I looked out over a stretch nearly a quarter mile wide, my attention was overtaken by the hypnotic movement of a vast, circling eddy.
I was following a small clump of driftwood as it moved in slow counter-clockwise rotation when my eyes landed on something startling.
It was the body of a small boy – face down in the water – his arms spread Christ-like – as he circled silently around the slow-turning eddy.
As I stood in silent witness, a group of children played near the shore.
Fixed on the scene before me, it occurred to me how disturbingly serene it all appeared. The boy, the eddy, and the sunlight, all of them moving peacefully upon the surface of the water.
Then, again came the chants. Deep, rhythmic chants that moved outward over the surface of the water. Chants that, among other things, pleaded for a respite from suffering. More specifically, an end to the suffering associated with another round of births and deaths …
My trip down the Sun Khosi began a week earlier.
Owing myself a gift after my hell-ride through Tibet, I’d had the good fortune to come across paddling legend David Allardice, owner of Ultimate Rivers, an adventure-based tour company out of Kathmandu.
Several days later, I found myself climbing aboard a 17-foot white-water raft, where I began an 8-day, 270-kilometer journey down one of the world’s classic multi-day white-water runs.
Our first few paddle strokes seemed to incite a riot, as frenzied children bolted to the riverside. “Hello!” or “Bye bye!” they shouted as their tiny figures jumped, waved and frolicked.
Before our journey was over, we’d pass villages inhabited by Eastern Nepal’s Rai, Limbu, Magar and Chettri tribes – each of their facial features varying from the next.
Many of them greeted us traditionally by pressing their palms together, before raising them to their foreheads. “Namast
