Before we left home, I downloaded a World Clock to keep track of the time zone changes.
When Pa and I arrived in Nepal we added “Kathmandu” to the list of cities and were quite surprised.
It appeared that when it’s top of the hour back home, or in other cities we’d visited or will visit, Kathmandu is 15 minutes off. Quite an oddity. It was particularly bothersome to Pa, always punctual as he is. For me, I was certain some sense could be made of it and any Nepalese could explain the logic.
The second day I queried Sugat and showed him the clock. He was befuddled, not knowing of the discrepancy. The following day I spoke with a friend of Sugat’s. Equal consternation. Yesterday I visited Trevini School again. The principal, Lama Sir, puzzled. This morning I mentioned it to Roshani. For the first time, a glimmer of recognition. “I think it has something to do with India,” she said.
So we Googled of course, and the search came upon a 2003 Nepali Times article that attempted to explain it.
When Westerners arrived, they brought global time zones which used, and still use, the Greenwich meridian as zero and measure 24 standard meridians on longitudes 15 degrees apart. It wasn’t until 1956, however, that Nepalese first set their watches to Nepal Standard Time, with the meridian at Mt Gauri Shankar 100km east of Kathmandu.
By doing so, a Nepalese clock or watch would be 10 minutes ahead of India, which used the longitude that passed through Calcutta. When India switched its meridian to Hyderabad in 1971, there were then four degrees of separation, putting Nepal 15 minutes ahead of its neighbor to the south.
Very interesting, and Pa agrees there’s a certain logic to it. But more interesting is how the Nepalese kept time before Westerners arrived.
In the Malla period, if you wanted to know the exact time in Kathmandu you’d go to a pond near Hanuman Dhoka, a complex of structures which to this day includes the Royal Palace of the Malla kings. Once there, an official would tell you how many pala had submerged since dawn. Each pala had a tiny hole and would fill it up in exactly 24 minutes.
We’re not quite sure of the logic of that, but it’s got me thinking about getting a fish pond when we return home.
Anyway, the whole thing prompted us to visit Hanuman Dhoka,
which includes one of the three “Durbar” squares in Central Kathmandu.
Following breakfast, we were off with Google maps.
Pretty straightforward until we arrived at Shankhadar Park and were directed by the narrator to pass through it to the other side.
We gladly payed the entry fee, 100 rupees / 0.756 US,
and slowly made our way.
After crossing the busiest intersection we’d yet encountered, we ended up at the outside waiting area of Bir Hospital’s 200 bed “Emergency and Trauma Centre.”
After looking around a bit,
we exited on the far side and Thamel, the heart of tourist shopping for Kathmandu.
The back streets and alleys were interesting,
and there were other sights as well.
But we slowly extricated ourselves, finally arriving at the complex. Quite a sight.
Numerous sights, actually.
At one one point we happened upon the home of Kumari,
the “living goddess.”
Entering,
we learned she’d be appearing soon and the ritual would begin.
Not knowing the immediacy of “soon” we approached the exit, only to discover the arrival of the keepers of the ritual.
Whatever was supposed to happen, happened outside, and a few minutes later we were following a small procession on its way somewhere else.
After a time, we turned back, and followed a different crowd,
stopping at one holy place after another,
including those damaged by the 2015 earthquake.
We could share additional photos, but a short video might do more justice:
You’ll get used to it, if you don’t have any expectations.
I have determined if I ever go to Kathmandu, I will never know what time it is or where I’m going!
Cue the group Chicago: Does anybody really know what time it is?
Next time you come to the farm, bring some palas (whatever that/those is/are) and we will use the pond to tell time.