Boudhanath is a beehive of activity when I walk in through the gates early in the morning. It is too early for me. But Boudha, as it is known locally, has been awake for a while.
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Monks in maroon robes and yellow shawls are circumambulating the stupas, spinning the prayer wheels or prayer beads in their hands in a gentle rhythm. Their mantras are murmured in low voices and blend into the louder sounds of the primeval Buddhist mantra Om Mani Padme Hum emanating from hidden speakers.
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Despite the hundreds of people already praying, working, or just visiting, it is a silent tableau out there, but for the occasional whoosh of dozens of pigeons taking to the air in a frenzy. At a teashop where I sit to rest my feet, a couple of young monks are feeding a stray dog, as it jumps and yelps playfully. A few older Buddhist men are squatting on the ground, weaving an intricate pattern using coloured chalk powder, perhaps recreating an earthy version of the mandala.
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The Boudha complex is a self-contained universe of its own, with temples and teashops, souvenir stalls and study centres lining the square around the central stupa. This massive stupa – Asia’s largest – was originally built in 600 CE before it was destroyed and rebuilt sometime after the 14th century.
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But to me, Boudha seems eternal, the painted eyes of the Buddha following everyone on the grounds with equal compassion.
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