1998 Darshan with the Kumari

In April I traveled to the Kathmandu Valley of Nepal. As the pilot maneuvered the body of the plane through the narrow gap between mountains and onto what is known as one of the most precarious landing strips in the world, my heart raced with excitement. While the other passengers clapped and sighed with great relief that the plane had safely touched ground, I experienced a strange feeling that if I died at this moment, I would be content. Later, looking back at this uncanny sensation, I realize that I was about to experience a death, a death of how I had known and thought of my self. My understanding of my existence in the universal scheme of things would be challenged and – over the next nine years— deeply transformed.

I had intended on doing a month long meditation retreat which began the afternoon of my arrival, but as I surrendered to the Shakti, the divine female energy that permeated the Valley, a different path began to unfold and I found myself wandering down the infamous Freak Street toward Durbar Square— the heart of Kathmandu. The medieval red brick buildings and streets bathed in the glow of the South Asian afternoon sun were strangely familiar. Immediately I was drawn to the temple of the Kumari, who, at that time was a seven-year-old living incarnation of Goddess Durga. I entered Her temple courtyard wearing red, (which signifies the life force energy specifically known as Shakti), without realizing until later that this is part of the ritual custom in approaching Goddess here. I stood there in awe of the intricately carved temple struts, the small deity plaques above doors, the yantras (geometric forms of the goddess) carved into the ground. Within moments She appeared wrapped in red and gold glittery robes and laden with necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings.

The Virgin Goddess, who within the Nepalese political structure has even more power and authority than the king, is chosen around the age of two, put through a series of tests that only a physical body spiritually fortified for a divine being can conquer, and searched for thirty-three auspicious marks on her body. The process of choosing male lamas in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition is similar to the initiatory rites around selecting a Kumari. The power of Durga remains within the young goddess girl until she begins to menstruate. I later learned that women who have menstrual disorders go to the Kumari and pray for help. Despite her virgin purity, reproductive illnesses are part of her domain. It was no wonder that I had instinctually gone directly to her temple upon arriving in Nepal for I had been suffering from endometriosis for three years.

I was not prepared for the arresting sight of a young girl decked in rich crimson robes, and bejeweled with gold necklaces and amulets. Her forehead had been painted bright red and traced with yellow to accent the rest of her face. In the center was a carefully-placed glittering gold and black eye. Around her human eyes were thick black lines, used to ward off evil spirits. She leaned out the intricately carved window frame, held up by two attendants on either side of her, and watched me, the only person in the courtyard, with all three eyes.

Her stare went right through me; rearranged and removed some of what was inside. I received her darshan, an auspicious and very potent blessing from the deity. In many respects, darshan, which means to see and be seen by the deity, is the ultimate goal for a pilgrim. At the time I had no conscious understanding of any of the ritualistic or even spiritual significance of this. I felt Her energy and knew she was different than the other humans I had met. This young embodiment of Durga has undeniable power.

To me the Kumari is a living goddess, and yet the qualities of her human life trouble me. She is not allowed to be educated, for she is believed to be omniscient. She is not allowed to play with other girls for she is the Goddess and all reside in Her. Her feet are not allowed to touch the ground for it is deemed polluting to orthodox Hindus and Buddhists and so she is carried everywhere. Even more concerning, after her short “reign,” the menstruating girl or now, young woman, is returned to her village and essentially ostracized by the entire community, mainly out of fear that they somehow may incite the wrath of the Goddess she once was. The status of the ‘retired’ Kumari tells much about how the status of women is still maligned. There is much to be said about the fear of menstrual blood. A topic for another time. However, it is fascinating to think that in the Kathmandu Valley, even today, there is universal acceptance of this female child as divine if only for a ten-twelve year period. Since my initiation with the Kumari, I have often wondered, how my life and every other woman’s I know would be different if we knew from an early age that we are not separate from the Divine, but like the Kumari, hold this sacred power within our female bodies?