The pointless question of whether Our Man in Heavena is actually a Woman finds a very Nepali compromaij on one of the hillocks shading the cleft of Chobhar, where the Valley sheds its poison (in an offering to Jal Binayak that even his Father would find unpalatable).
Turn right off the road to Taudaha and head up the steep incline to the Adinath Lokeshwar temple. Look past the pots and pans that stud, nay obscure, the facade of the three-storied pagoda Bihar, and you'll realise that this is a 15th-century shrine to a half-man, half-woman divinity. Adinath, geddit? The god, we were informed by a helpful local sunbather, enjoys the privilege of both a bratabandha and a gufa ceremony.
The shrine was closed when we got there, so we were understandably focused on the artifacts nailed not just to the temple but to every inch of the courtyard walls. What a history of domesticity could be traced through these implements! The obvious motivation seemed to be an offering to guarantee the prosperity of the household, but other sources indicate the items may be donated on behalf of the dearly departed.
The settlement around the temple is just as you might expect - quiet, sun-drenched streets where men and women sit in expectation of nothing. The views are spectacular, too: this was the first time I'd ever seen Manaslu from the Kathmandu Valley, to the left of the Ganesh massif. All this a mere 15-minute ride up from the Ringroad. These corners hold the centre together.