<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfbad9c7e80680e0a0b47jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>She towered over me like a lone poplar tree. She was four years older than I was at the time she came to live with us. Sita was the eldest of her siblings and her father had sent her to Kathmandu so she could contribute to the family income.Ten-year-old Sita’s job was to babysit for one of our relatives—two babies watching one another. When a bunch of grapes disappeared, the employers decided to dismiss the babysitter. Sita was just being a child picking and popping into her mouth something she liked the taste of, but she was supposed to be an ‘employee’ and expected to behave like an adult.Her father insisted that she stay in Kathmandu, and so the child remained, moving from one home to another, as employers tired of her antics. One of them had to yank her off the balcony railing, after which, she was sent to ours.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/welcome-to-suburbia/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Welcome to suburbia</a>, Pratibha TuladharWhen I asked my mother recently why she had accepted a child as helper, she said it was because she knew that she would be sent somewhere else if not to ours, and that she thought a house with two girls would be safer for her.Sita showed up one afternoon on the motorbike of her former employer at our home on the outskirts of Kathmandu. She was carrying a small bag of clothes. She was wearing a kurta with traces of lint—something I had seen my relative wear before, now altered to fit a 14-year-old.I had met Sita before when I had visited my relatives, a radiant face resting on tall, lean limbs. Her eyes were light brown and her hair the same colour, resting in an array of curls over her forehead and her temples. She did not look much different when she arrived at ours. And neither did she look nervous for someone coming to live in a new place.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/be-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">My mother</a> and Nini got busy after her arrival, making arrangements for a bedding of a single mattress, a pillow and a blanket. She would sleep in my room, on the floor. I couldn’t understand the arrangement, but I got used to it.She folded her bedding every morning, arranging it under my bookshelf which hung on the wall. If sometimes she saw me sitting on it with a book between my fingers, she would tell me to get off in fluent Newa: “Maicha! Ana makhu.”Sita made our home hers, quickly. She was expected to bring my sister and me to the bus stop everyday and help Mam run errands. But Mam complained that “the child” delayed her. Clearly, she also made her laugh.Mam, with wisps of gray sticking over her head would sit under a tree in the afternoons, smoking her beedi. On a hot day, she would fall asleep under the tree, and Sita would get to work, poking her ear with a leaf. Furious, Mam would clench her hand into a fist and threaten to hit Sita. “This girl has too much energy. Utauli, chakchaki!”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfbb09c7e80680e0a0b48jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853">And as if to prove the point, Sita made sure to punctuate our days with events. One morning, as we waited for our school bus to arrive, Sita pointed at the pipal tree and said, “Nests!” And before we knew, she was climbing the tree.“Sita Didi!” we yelled from below, as she scrambled up like she knew the tree branch by branch. When we got into the school bus, I craned my neck to watch her from the window as the bus raced off with us inside. My heart pounding, I caught a glimpse of her stretching one arm to grab the nest.When we stepped off at the bus stand that afternoon, Mam was waiting for us. Sita had been grounded. Upon entering my room, I saw two weaver birds’ nests. One was over a foot long, the other one was smaller. Sita had nailed them to two corners of our room. I dumped my bag on the floor to touch them.“I saw you read about them in your sience book,” she beamed. My science book had a chapter on different kinds of bird nests, one of them had been the weaver bird’s nest.A couple of weeks later, Sita was allowed to go to the bus stand again. As we waited under the pipal tree, my sister wept. She hadn’t finished her homework. Sita pulled out her notebook and hurriedly wrote her homework for her. “There, your teacher won’t scold you now.” She whacked my sister’s head, “Badmass!”Coming home from school was also coming home to Sita’s radiant face. One time, she greeted us with bruises all over her limbs, spiky branches strewn over the front porch. She had climbed a thorny tree to gather firewood for Shivaratri, bringing down fresh branches that would not burn.When my mother exclaimed how terrified she had been that she might fall, Sita reminded her that she had “conquered” a pipal tree. I did not understand my mother’s patience with her.One afternoon, Sita locked herself in the kitchen for hours. When she unlocked the door, she had made aloo achar. She said it was her “especial” for us, the first time she had cooked. The potatoes were raw and I told her the achar was horrible. But my mother ate it, smiling as she did.When Sita turned 15, her father showed up. Mam found her hiding at the dhunge dhara by the hillside. It was time for her to go home. When we returned from school her bedclothes still sat under my bookshelf but the lightness of her presence was missing. It angered me that no one had told me she was leaving, but no one tells a child such things.Sita had been “<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/child-marriage-in-Nepal,3863" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">given away in marriage</a>” after she went back home, we heard. A decade later Sita visited my mother in our home in Maharajganj, when she brought a relative to the Teaching Hospital.“She leaned against the wall the entire time we talked. She was wearing a red cotton sari and had grown much taller and fuller. But she looked tired,” my mother recalls.We haven’t heard from her since, but my mother likes to punctuate our kitchen conversations with Sita anecdotes.Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

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The monsoon has got bad press because Nepal’s tourism operators actively told visitors to avoid <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon?%2F">the rainy season</a>. It is time to change that. The reason can be found right here in the vast alpine meadows of Central Nepal where this time of year you can walk on velvet grass of pastures abloom with delicate pink, red and yellow flowers as the mist rolls up the valley. There is no sound except the hum of bumble bees. &nbsp;&nbsp; There are dozens of places across high Nepal called Chaurikharka, which means yak pasture. But this particular Chaurikharka in Rukum East located at an altitude of 4,000m stands out for its serene beauty, rustic charm and bucolic setting. There is just the occasional chime of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">yak bells</a> in the distance, and the sharp whistle of herders corralling sheep. &nbsp;&nbsp; The grass shoots are so fragile that one hesitates to step on them, the rounded ridges appear and quickly vanish in waves of mist. With the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon"> arrival of monsoon</a>, these meadows are a soothing shade of green dotted with millions of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-anatomy-of-a-flower?%2F=">multi-coloured flowers</a>. Until very recently, it took a week or so to hike up to places like Chaurikharka, but with the expansion of the road network even to these far-flung mountains in the lap of Dhaulagiri, they are much more accessible. It is just a three-hour uphill from the Mid-Hill Highway on the border between Baglung and Rukum East.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Purists would say that such easy access devalues the sanctity of these remote high meadows, but it also means more people will be moved to treasure the experience, appreciate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">the value of nature </a>so they can take steps to protect it.&nbsp; To be sure, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/deadly-monsoon-in-nepal-turns-deadlier">monsoon season can be challenging for road travel</a>. The roads are rough even at the best of times, and in the monsoon they become muddy and treacherous, often blocked by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/monsoon-deluge-in-nepal"> landslides</a>. But that could be precisely the kind of adventure that the more intrepid visitors crave. Improved road connectivity has already made Chaurikharka and places like Badimallika &nbsp;and other sacred lakes in the mountains of western Nepal popular with domestic tourists. What is driving this traffic is the urge to go to exotic new places and share videos and selfies on social media. Several of Nepal’s travel vloggers have visited Chaurikharka and popularised the place, enticing followers on TikTok or YouTube to retrace their footsteps. But even as they become more popular, these fragile and once-remote places should be protected from over-tourism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="699" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon NT"> </figure>  <h2>INCREASING FOOTFALL</h2> Chaurikharka is located in Bhume Rural Municipality of East Rukum, near the scenic valley of Dhorpatan in Baglung district. Even in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-culture">middle of the monsoon</a>, there is a steady stream of Nepali hikers trooping to these high pastures – especially during festival days like Saune Sankranti which this year was on 17 July and actually marks the auspicious beginning of the monsoon here. “This year the rains have not been as heavy and there have been some clear mornings when we could see everything from Dhaulagiri to Machapuchre,” says Khageswar Bhandari, who trekked up here from the road. “The flowers, the greenery and the snowy mountain views make this an incredibly unique place.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Chaurikharka is worthwhile to get to in any season, but it has a different charm during the monsoon. Word has spread and because it is now easy to get to from Baglung or even Pokhara, people have been flocking here.&nbsp; “Holidays and Saturdays see the largest crowds, with up to 500 visitors every day,” says ward chair Mankaji Pun of Bhume.&nbsp; There was a time not too long ago when local herders brought sheep, goats, cows, buffaloes, horses, and mules to graze here during the monsoon. Although there are still livestock around, animals have been replaced by visitors taking selfies. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-monsoon-and-nature-s-arithmetic">The monsoon, and nature’s arithmetic</a>, Tom Robertson Ward Chair Pun says infrastructure development is his main priority. A foot trail to Chaurikharka was built last year by the Tourism Division Office in Kohalpur, but access via the Raniwas-Koipa road section still remains challenging.&nbsp; “If we get more budget, we can improve the road and facilities to make Chaurikharka the main tourist attraction of this region,” says Bhume Municipality Chair Hom Prakash Shrestha. “After that, we hope to promote Chaurikharka as a top tourist spot.”&nbsp; Economic activity is also picking up with the arrival of visitors, but there seems to be a need to manage the makeshift sheds made of corrugated sheets that spoil the beauty of the place. Tea shops and lodges are also available but facilities are basic. Kuldeep Neupane took a three-day trip from Ghorahi in Dang to visit Chaurikharka recently, and says: “This is an ideal trip to make a quick getaway and let nature recharge your mind and body. And it is much more fun with a tent, to watch the sunrise over the Himalaya or the mist blowing in.”

Visit Nepal in the monsoon

The final investigation report on the crash of a Saurya Airlines jet on 24 July 2024 at Kathmandu airport has revealed flaws in the carrier’s technical operation procedures, poor monitoring by the Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) and gaps in the airport’s emergency response. Eighteen people including a child were killed, and only the captain survived as the plane plunged seconds after takeoff, crashing within the airport perimeter. This was the latest in a series of aircraft accidents in previous years, and further tarnished Nepal’s already poor aviation safety record and contributed to the country being retained in the EU’s air safety list. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The circumstances in the Saurya crash were different from the Yeti Airlines crash in Pokhara in January 2022 that killed all 72 on board, and two Tara Air crashes in February 2016 and May 2022 on approach to Jomsom that together claimed 45 lives. However, all four tragedies were a result of negligence of carriers and crew, failure to follow procedures, regulatory slackness, and overconfidence. The Saurya crash, especially, was a glaring example of how an ailing airline broke its own rules to allow passengers, including non-employees, a joy ride to Pokhara on a maintenance ferry flight. CRASH REPORT The Final Investigation Report prepared by the Aircraft Accident Investigation Commission and released on the first anniversary of the crash last week carried a long list of rules that were ignored or broken, and of regulatory failure. The first mistake was to cram spares, tools and inflammable chemicals needed for the aircraft’s C-Check in Pokhara into the cargo hold flouting its own ground handling procedures.&nbsp; There was no check-in of passengers, some of whom were not even employees – even though regulations say only flight and maintenance crew should be on board a maintenance positioning flight. Many brought their own luggage into the plane and stored it unsecured in the cabin. There was no flight attendant to give a safety briefing to passengers. The load and trim charts given to the flight crew were rough estimates, and the total takeoff weight of the plane was 18,300kg plus or minus 200 kg. That would still have been all right, but there was a glaring mistake in the speedchart Saurya pilots were using to calculate the minimum takeoff speed (known as VR), and it had been wrong ever since the 21-year-old aircraft entered service with the airline in 2017. FAULTY DATA&nbsp; The Commission probed Flight Data Recorder inputs from previous takeoffs of the Canadian-built CRJ200-LR in 2023-2024 and found that the undetected error in the speedchart had caused the plane to pitch up at an abnormal rotation rate at least 18 times on previous takeoffs.&nbsp; Any rotation rate more than 3°/sec is regarded as unusual. But on at least two occasions, this aircraft with tail number 9N-AME had rotation rates of 5.8°/sec and 5.5°/sec, the second one was when the pilot who survived was flying in March 2024.&nbsp; On this particular day, the plane’s rotation rate was 6.5°/sec, causing it to go into a deep stall soon after takeoff, the Commission report said. Essentially, the plane was not flying fast enough down the runway to take off safely.&nbsp; It is not yet clear whether excess weight, unsecured luggage, wrong centre of gravity were also factors, but relying on a faulty speedchart for the given takeoff weight, the captain flying pulled back on the yoke before the plane had reached takeoff speed and at a pitch angle that was too steep. The investigation report says the plane then went into a deep stall and started banking right with the stick shaking. At this point, the flight officer on the right hand seat is heard on the cockpit voice recorder saying: “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sir, Sir, Sir…” It then banked left before the pilot flying turned the plane sharply to the right again in an evasive action to avoid the parking aprons of the international and domestic terminals. Had he not done so, there would have been a disaster of a much greater magnitude at Kathmandu airport that day. The plane scraped the runway with its right wingtip, collided with a container having helicopter spare parts, and plunged into a gully east of the runway, exploding in a fireball. The investigation also noted that the impact forces seemed to be survivable for some occupants. The fire trucks took unnecessarily long to reach the site even though it was inside the airport perimeter. The absence of an ICAO-standard runway strip, inadequate rescue drills, lack of training, and a blocked emergency service gate leading to the crash site were cited as other factors. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Timestamp of a Disaster</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110724_39cdd04693994ce6e55a5b302905c0fa4884fe85bed21ff0779bb1439f3a5725.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250731110724_39cdd04693994ce6e55a5b302905c0fa4884fe85bed21ff0779bb1439f3a5725" data-rendition-name="original" width="778" height="826" loading="lazy" alt="Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy NT"> </figure>  11:10:34 - The Saurya Airlines CRJ200 on the takeoff roll from runway 02. It had a takeoff weight of about 18,300kg, but the pilot’s speedcard had a previously undetected mistake about the minimum takeoff speed. 11:10:55 -The plane with tail number 9N-AME goes into deep stall soon after takeoff because it does not have enough speed to lift its weight. The plane also has an abnormally steep nose-up attitude.&nbsp; 11:11:03 - Without enough speed to generate lift, the plane banks right, then left and right again in CCTV photos taken from the domestic apron (below). If it had not banked right, it could have hit the aprons and terminal buildings. Seen parked is Saurya’s other CRJ200 with tail number 9N-ANM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110732_608132f7225c649125cca2691dd6a6bf930984c5b359e888d7ad9e5eacce3afd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250731110732_608132f7225c649125cca2691dd6a6bf930984c5b359e888d7ad9e5eacce3afd" data-rendition-name="original" width="770" height="555" loading="lazy" alt="Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy NT"> </figure>  11:11:08 - The plane scrapes the runway with its right wingtip, and falls into the gully. The captain is thrown off the left side of the cockpit and survives. 11:11:15: Plane explodes in a fireball inside the airport perimeter. Firefighters take time to reach the site because of lack of access road and a blocked gate. Read the full investigation report <a href="https://www.tourism.gov.np/files/9N-AME%20AIC%20Final%20Report.pdf">here</a>.

Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy

French citizen Louis arrived in Nepal for the first time earlier this year, planning to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-abcs-of-a-winter-trek-in-nepal">trek the Annapurna Circuit </a>before heading down to Bardia to hopefully catch a glimpse of some<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-counting-its-tigers"> tigers</a>. Before he began his journey from Besisahar, Louis (who only revealed his first name) had imagined breathing crisp mountain air, and following the melodious gurgle of the Marsyangdi.&nbsp; Instead, he had to breathe fumes and dust all the way to Chame. Louis says he masked his face with a handkerchief: “It was not what I expected, this is not right.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025080304080_f03fce1527cf8a63178e4e82589a1a7096c8cfa28893ca4a5f7fe82d91a6e38a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025080304080_f03fce1527cf8a63178e4e82589a1a7096c8cfa28893ca4a5f7fe82d91a6e38a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2419" height="1814" loading="lazy" alt="Manang trails NT 1"> </figure>  Many other trekkers are similarly disappointed as roads have been built along what used to be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/a-walk-back-in-time-chandragiri-hatiban">walking trails</a>. Manang and Humla are the last remote regions in the Himalaya to be connected to the national road network. &nbsp;Construction of the 87km Besisahar-Manang road began in 1994, but was stalled during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal">the Maoist conflic</a>t, and finally finished in 2012.&nbsp; Most of it has not yet been blacktopped, and sections have been carved out of vertical cliff faces, making them treacherous. But it has allowed road access to Manang, a journey that previously took a week on foot.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025080304084_32b3ca875a0df9f1dd42dbe915e6f6a2cd4f2e53f1cf2d3ee5cbdb3435905000.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025080304084_32b3ca875a0df9f1dd42dbe915e6f6a2cd4f2e53f1cf2d3ee5cbdb3435905000" data-rendition-name="original" width="2400" height="1505" loading="lazy" alt="Manang trails NT 1"> </figure>  While the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-road-out-of-nepal">road has improved access</a>, it has impacted on<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/trekking-in-the-time-of-climate-change"> trekking tourism </a>— the mainstay of Manang’s economy. The number of tourists visiting the scenic valley behind the Annapurnas grew from 21,245 in 2023 to 30,866 in 2024. The Annapurna Circuit is known for unique sights like <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9194">Tilicho</a>, one of the highest lakes in the world, the Thorong La pass that connects Manang to Mustang, and the valley’s own rich cultural heritage. Thorong La at 5,416m is the highest hiking pass in the world, and was used by locals for trade with Mustang before it became a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/lift-restrictions-on-upper-mustang">popular trekking route</a>. &nbsp; “For guests, the excitement of reaching Thorong La is now overshadowed by their disappointment of having to journey through dusty roads to get there,” says Manang lodge-owner Ongma Gurung. “That is the complaint we get the most.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/tourism-that-treads-lightly-on-the-land">Local tourism </a>operators are trying to get the government to build alternative foot trails. But there have been delays due to a lack of budget.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025080304084_c5f76e398182785bb17846a148e3ca89de5687b4623580f8e2d725a7a287edfa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2025080304084_c5f76e398182785bb17846a148e3ca89de5687b4623580f8e2d725a7a287edfa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2419" height="1762" loading="lazy" alt="Manang trails"> </figure>  The Naso Rural Municipality has identified other routes along the Annapurna Circuit in Chyamche, Tal, and Khotro so trekkers can bypass heavy vehicles involved in the construction of the Manang-Marsyangdi Hydropower Project. “But the local government cannot do everything,” admits the chair Dhan Bahadur Gurung. “And for leaders in Kathmandu, Manang is out of sight and out of mind.” Munindra Jung Gurung represents Manang in the Gandaki Provincial Assembly, and says he has raised the issue in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-s-tourism-woes">Pokhara</a>. He is hopeful there will be a hearing. To be sure, the road is not all bad news. Locals benefit, the number of visitors has grown, and trekkers can now also save time and use it to explore <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5960">side valleys in Manang</a>, visiting the villages like Nar and Phu. Annapurna Conservation Area (ACA) chief Rabin Kadariya concedes that the road to Upper Manang was crucial to connect the remote region with the rest of Nepal, but adds: “We have built an alternative trail connecting Talgaun, and we will consult local communities about their priorities on other hiking trails.”&nbsp;

Trailing off in Manang

American artist Peter Makela was in Nepal in 2022 on a Fulbright scholarship when he experienced the Matya festival in Patan in which devotees made the rounds of the city’s shrines.&nbsp;
He joined the procession, walking through 2,600 stupa and 140 bahal of the town. That immersion left a lasting impression.
As part of Gallery Mcube’s international residency program in Patan, he put his inspiration to canvas in the exhibition Yala Yatra: Walking, Working, Worshipping. The exhibition also coincides with this month’s Matya festival.&nbsp;
Makela has visited Nepal often in the past 11 years but he mostly stayed in and spent his time around Boudha. “This time I stayed in Patan, put the sites I wanted to visit on my map, and off I went,” he tells us. “Each of my artwork is inspired by the stupas and shrines in Patan that I visited.”
The stupa and Ganesh are recurring motifs in his watercolours, and the elephant gods are located in chaityas — reflecting the interplay and blending of the Hindu and Buddhist faiths in Kathmandu Valley.&nbsp;
The stupas and Ganesh are painted in vivid red, yellow, blue and green against abstract backgrounds meant to represent the sky.
“I use the sky as a backdrop because the sky has no border,” says Makela. “The four colours represent the four elements, the different Buddha families and also lights bouncing off of a rainbow.”
The use of just four colours for all the artwork stands out, and combined with the absence of heavy canvases, frames or stands render Makela’s art striking in its simplicity.&nbsp;
The Ganesh is always holding something and the art also portrays the elephant god’s sacred vehicle, the mouse.
While his vibrant stupas and Ganesh reflect the tangibility of Patan’s tradition and heritage, it is as if the backdrops with their shades of grey and red and yellow capture the soul of the city’s shrines.
“If you look closely, there is a sense of form and formlessness at the same time,” he says.&nbsp;
Makela walked 108 kora around the shrines during his exploration of the town, and in the process developed a spiritual connection with Patan’s heritage and traditions.&nbsp;
The exhibition connects with visitors on a deeper, more spiritual, level as well. And with it, they feel a sense of pride as well as the need to urgently preserve Patan’s heritage for future generations.
“Peter’s inclination and approach towards Nepali art and culture is fascinating, and it reflects in his work,” says Mcube curator Manish Lal Shrestha, whose international artist residency program promotes Nepal’s cultural heritage. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Yala Yatra: Walking, Working, Worshipping
1-5 August&nbsp;
10AM-7PM
Gallery Mcube, Patan

babysitting

Sita

Visit Nepal in the monsoon

Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy

Trailing off in Manang

Walking, working, worshipping in Patan