Travel & Humanitarian Photos
Many visitors to Nepal take the opportunity to see Pashupatinath. A stone’s throw from Kathmandu, Pashupatinath is home of one of the country’s most important Shiva temples. More often known in Nepal as Bhairab, Shiva is the destroyer and also the creator. The temple stands on the banks of the holy Bagmati river, a place of ritual bathing and scene of many cremations. At this time of year, before the monsoon rains have had a chance to swell the tributaries, the river is little more than a series of muddy pools, yet it retains its sacred place in the heart of the Hindu community. The visitors who come to Pashupatinath will enjoy seeing the temples no doubt but are often more engrossed by the cremation ghats that punctuate the riverside. It is an alien sight for many westerners, bodies draped in white cloth are placed upon wooden pyres and cremated in the open, and I understand that it may seem peculiar, exotic even, however…
As westerners, we tend to shroud our funerals in euphemistic paraphernalia. Cremations take place behind curtains, at burials we see only wooden boxes, we are always one-step removed from the reality. Yet there is little pretence in countries like Nepal where funeral rites are seen as another step in the ongoing cycle of life, death and re-birth. So I understand why western visitors are captivated by the sight of cremations taking place in the open and without concealment. But why anyone would feel that it could be appropriate to stand above a burning ghat with a camera is a mystery to me. And yet, there they are, most days, cameras clicking, videos whirring. Perhaps they’re collecting evidence to return home with, proof for friends and family of what an exotic holiday they’ve just been on. I’ve even seen tourists pushing family mourners aside in order to get a closer view of the burning pyre. So here’s my request: if you’d going to Pashupatinath, Varanassi or any of the other sacred locations where cremations take place, please don’t forget to pack just a little sensitivity along with your camera gear. If nothing else, imagine for a second how you would feel if a group of tourists bundled their way into a funeral that you were attending and started snapping frames. It’s all about respect.
OK, apologies for the sermon, it’s just a little bugbear of mine.
Instead of photographing cremations at Pashupatinath, you might instead consider visiting the Home for the Elderly that sits just a few yards from the riverside. You’ll pass the entrance on your way to the main entrance to the Pashupatinath temple complex but the odds are that, like most tourists, you won’t give it a second glance. It’s a large building set around a central courtyard and the entrance looks unassuming. It is Nepal’s only Government-funded shelter for elderly people who find themselves without the means to support themselves. Sadly, an all too common state for many of the country’s elderly population. There are over 250 residents in various degrees of health. I spent a couple of mornings at the Home, talking to the staff, meeting with the residents and trying to learn a little about how the work there is funded. Occasionally, local people will make donations of blankets or food and visitors will find a donation box inside the main entrance but the place receives little in the way of outside support. It seemed like a strangely anonymous place to me. Like it’s residents, it feels largely forgotten. Tourists traipse past outside on their way to the temples but won’t realise what goes on behind the nearby walls. The irony of the Home being positioned right next to the funeral ghats on the Bagmati river wasn’t lost to me. I’m sure it isn’t lost on the residents either.
Although the Home initially seemed isolated and forgotten to me, as I spent a bit more time I began to see something far more positive and uplifting. Yes, the conditions are unarguably poor. Medical support is limited although two medical staff from a nearby hospital do visit the centre two days a week each. There aren’t sufficient funds to pay for prescription medicines and there’s no question that the quality of care that residents receive is far below what we in the west might consider acceptable. However, this is Nepal, it’s a poor country and I suppose everything is relative. These people do at least receive food and shelter and one wonders what happens to those who aren’t able to get in to the Home.
What I found was that, despite the conditions, the residents largely retain a great sense of dignity. Not only that, they retain a keen sense of humour and my brief conversations, if you can call my sign-language and limited Nepalese a conversation, frequently yielded smiles and laughter. The lady above, for example, who had taken up what I assume was her usual place outside her small room, described the passing residents to me. As she sat, puffing on a cigarette like only Nepalese women can, she’d indicate to me what was wrong with everyone that came into view. This one can’t see very well, she explained by screwing up her eyes and making spectacle-shaped circles of her hands. This one only has one leg, she told me, rather unnecessarily, by making a sawing motion across her thigh. And this one… well, let’s just say that she gripped her head with both hands, shook it from side to side and rolled her eyes crazily. She was a real no-nonsense character and clearly didn’t suffer fools. She was intrigued by my camera and found the images of herself in the LCD screen fascinating.
If you’re visiting Nepal then I encourage you to pop into the Pashupatinath Old People’s Home and spend an hour or two with the residents. It was a real treat for me and a reminder that it’s not always the obvious attractions that are the most rewarding. Indeed, I feel that all tourists should be required to visit the Home before they’re allowed to pass through to the riverbank.
These studies of four men are interesting to me for a variety of reasons. I hope that they convey something of the quiet dignity that I felt the men possessed. I also like the Topi, or hat, that each is wearing. There’s something very gentlemanly about a good hat.
This lady and her husband (below left) invited me into their small room. With no artificial light and a tiny window it was incredibly dark even in the middle of the day. They showed me their belongings; some tins, a few beads. Nothing else really. We sat, I took some photographs. We were quiet and I think they just enjoyed having a visitor. I’m not sure what they made of the odd stranger in their home but I guess it was a diversion for them and it was certainly an invitation that I felt honoured by.
This couple were excellent. She was as grumpy as anything and he just kept smiling. I especially love the leopard-skin blanket on the bed and behind them on the wall are photographs of the two of them when they were younger. We sometimes forget that old people were once young too. It seems like they might have been old all their lives but, as the pictures behind them testify, they were once youthful workers, parents, sons and daughters.
One of the most abiding lessons that I’ve learned on my various travels is that it is frequently those with the least who offer the most. And so it was with this couple. They invited me inside their home, allowed me to take photos and then, from a small tin beneath the bed, pulled a packet of biscuits, which they tried very hard to get me to accept. There’s no way to balance out that kind of generosity.
Sadly, this man was suffering from an eye infection that was clearly causing him much discomfort. Worse still, he was rubbing his eyes with a grubby piece of towel that can only have been making the condition worse. He was, quite understandably, feeling very sorry for himself. I managed to find something a little cleaner for him to use (thank you Buff) and was also able to arrange for somebody to bring him some eye drops. It must be hellish to find yourself in that much discomfort and not be able to do anything to treat it. It’s a sobering reminder of just how lucky many of us are.
Finally, the ageing clock on the wall. Which has stopped. I don’t think we really need metaphors at this point but if we did then the stopped clock might be a good one. Pashupatinath: go see the cremation ghats by all means but I recommend you spend a little time with the living before being tempted to focus too much on the dead.
Gavin, these are very inspiring words to accompany these wonderful photos. Thank you for taking my heart on this little journey.
Some really wonderful portraits there, Gavin. If I had to pick a favourite, it’d be the seventh one. Or the ninth. Or the twelfth…
Once again you have moved me not only with the words but with photos that tell a life story on their own. I can only hope to be able to convey this much about someone at some point in my career. Inspiring doesn’t begin to cover this, thank you.
You have such a way with texture. I always notice skin and fabric in your images… always amazing. What I love most about these shots is that they feel completely timeless. They could have been taken in the 1940′s as well as today.
Thank you too for the beautiful reminder…
Do you offer any compensation to these folks when you shoot people who so obviously could use some help? It seems like a great situation for these strong images but I would be be intimidated by the circumstance and probably not take many shots.
Really strong work Gavin. I love the black and white conversions, it evokes a feeling of timelessness that fits the subjects. Beautiful.
jack
[...] at some fantastic imagery and equally fabulous story-telling, I strongly urge you to take a look at this post by Gavin Gough. Terrific piece on humanity, dignity and [...]
I agree that black and white really works for this subject matter. I’ve walked by this place a number of times – never realized that they would be open to visitors – always felt that I’d be intruding.Hopefully your lovely images will result in an open door for future photographers.
This is a very touching story, very well documented.
There are some very impressive portraits in the selection.
Gav – I’ve shot here several times and occassionally just sat and held hands. The first woman above is one of my favourites – I think of her as my little Nepali Yoda. So tiny, so spry.
I’m of two minds about recommending people go here, if only because I’ve seen them so often walk in, look at the architecture, snap a shot of the “old people” and walk off without so much as a “namaskar” – Thanks for creating such beautiful images. The hardest thing about this place is that you must have no dependants and no one upon whom you can depend, in order to get in. So they don’t get visitors. They do get well fed, but it’s a long day just sitting around waiting for God.
Don’t apologize for the sermon – it’s needed. And for all the folks that look at your images and admire the beauty and depth I think it’s good for them to know it comes from a sensitive heart and not only a sharp eye.
Wonderful shots Gavin, the picture itself speaks so much.. the write up too good too. I like the way u have done the B/W Conversion on this, seems like u used ur 85L very well.
Cheer’s
+Arun
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Gavin- both the photographs and your words.I can see this trip is just so inspiring for you (and us!) And David: yes, I totally agree with what you are saying. I honestly cannot imagine even lifting my camera to my eye here, let alone pushing the shutter button, before engaging, spending time with the residents. But I know from experience that that compassion and respect doesn’t translate to everyone wielding a digital camera. For example, on Saturday in Notting Hill, I spotted an elderly gent who I wanted to photograph. I asked if he would mind if I took some photographs and we had a little chat while I snapped away. Next thing I know there are FIVE people next to me all with cameras. And not ONE of them said anything to him, smiled at him or acknowledged him in any way- just took their photos and walked away. It made me furious.
Phew, sorry for the rant- I had to get it off my chest!
What an inspiring post. You make such a valid and oft forgotten point. I think that when travelers don’t speak the language, and the culture seems so foreign, they think everything is some kind of circus side show and snap away, barge in, and generally make a nuisance of themselves. Beautiful photos!
These are excellent images – powerful and with so much to tell. I agree with you about cameras at the funeral pyres; I’ve always packed mine away when I’ve been at the burning ghat in Varanasi or Pashupati. I was not aware of this place though, and will make an effort to visit next time I’m in Nepal.