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September 23, 2005

Stock Stories - Koa Kahili - An Uplifting Experience

An Uplifting Experience

It was an early weekday morning and I was cutting school. I did not feel guilty, for I was off to investigate something far more interesting than sitting in some small classroom learning Nepali, which I would soon forget. My mission was to find the Sadhu who could lift a boulder with his dick. I was on a summer program in Kathmandu, Nepal, doing research for an honors thesis at the University of Colorado at Boulder, and this was definitely important research. I took my camera and hopped on the school’s 1950’s one speed brakeless bike, and rode down to Pushupatinath. There at the Hindu stronghold of the valley are the cremation gats, Kathmandu’s largest lingam and yoni and a prime place to chat up some Sadhus.

Now this is where most travel stories pontificate about how magnificent and glorious the exotic city is. You get some generic guide book description on its ancient temples and religions and how overrun with tourists it is. I could go on and on about Kathmandu's many tiered temples and how horribly polluted the place is, but I won’t. Just go see it yourself. Experience one of the wackiest and wonderful cities in the world and have fun.

Back to the Sadhus and their amazing human tricks. Sadhus are Hindu holy men; esthetics that have renounced all worldly possessions, often times even their clothes. They religiously smoke heaps of ganja, sport long dreadlocks and wear rhudraksah beads. When I heard this rumor about a Sahdu who could lift a boulder with his, you know, I could not believe it. No way, you have got to be kidding me, pulling my third leg, yet I kept trying to envision it. How would he do it? What was the technique? My first thought was that he used his erect penis as a lever. Wasn’t it Galileo who said, “Give me a lever long enough and I can move the world.” I had seen on TV the stereotypical Sadhus sleeping on a bed of nails, walking over hot coals, and one guy who stood up for over ten years. My western mind struggled to comprehend such strange superhuman acts of religious determination. I could only relate to the smoking of some ganja.

So, I wandered around Pusupatinath marveling at a thousand year old Buddha half buried in the street next to a Buddha painted day-glo orange. I noticed a funeral in full swing and sauntered over. They were about to cremate a corpse. I had never witnessed such a thing and was absolutely captivated. I lurked around with camera in hand being respectful and keeping my distance. I used my telephoto lens to snap a few quick photos. The thing that surprised me the most was when the flames leapt to life and Agni offered his puja to a smiling and dancing Shiva, it smelled like a bar-b-que. Honestly, it smelled good, and I instinctively started to salivate. Needless to say I am now a vegetarian. This yummy smell kind of worried me so I scurried off across the courtyard, past the rainbow colored powders used for offerings and under a tree full of naughty monkeys. It had just rained and the tree was full of water. The monkeys high in the huge tree would wait for someone to walk under, then jump around getting them soaked. I quickly covered my camera from the sneaky simians.

It seemed a large crowd was going into this one temple containing a large bronze statue of Nandi the bull. I was about to enter when I noticed a sign. HINDUS ONLY. Well, how do they know I am not a Hindu? Maybe I can be Hindu for the day? Can’t I convert really quickly to satisfy my curiosity? I am studying Hinduism in school, isn’t that enough? I felt rejected and segregated, but relinquished, grudgingly offering my respect and stayed outside the temple only to see a view of Nandi’s ass and genitals. Maybe I was on the right track.

On the other side of the river I met a Sadhu who had the longest, nappiest dreads I have ever seen. Down to his knees they swayed like some mutant brown rope. It then occurred to me that they have multiple purposes; a mattress and pillow against the hard ground, foul weather gear, and permanent sunshade. Dreadlocks are a term taken from Jamaica and used by the Rastafarians who originally grew nappy long hair to display their revolutionary ideals in having a “dread” appearance. For Sadhus it is a symbol of renunciation, yet ironically some Sadhus take great pride and care of their entangled locks. This old eccentric holy man told me he had been growing them for over thirty years and struck a pose for the camera. He knew nothing of lifting a boulder with his lingam. I later saw a post card with this same Sadhu holding a sleeping monkey that looked suspiciously dead.

I continued on my search not knowing what to look for. I did not want to walk up to random people and ask them if they knew anyone who could lift a boulder with his, you know. I found a seat overlooking the river and enjoyed the misty morning. Sure beats school any day. It was monsoon season and off-season for the throngs of tourists and that suited me just fine. The only other people sitting on the broad expanse of steps viewing the river were two teenage guys dressed in orange robes. We said hello and exchanged pleasantries. I tried to practice my Nepali and luckily they spoke a little English. I told them I was a student from America here to study the art and culture and was wondering around Pusupatinath this morning looking for a Sadhu who could lift a boulder with his lingam. My new friend said he was a Sadhu and could show me this death-defying stunt. No way, I could not believe my luck, was he just telling me what I wanted to hear to cheer me up? I called him on it, “Ok, let’s see it,” I said.

“Not here”, he replied and nodded towards the edge of the concrete steps. I eagerly followed them back into the bushes. There was a small clearing and he quickly found a rather large rock. This kid was serious. Ok, I asked if I could take a photo. He was all smiles. I had an old Pentax K1000 manual camera with 50-speed film and it was grey out, so I began setting up my tripod as he prepared himself. He began by wrapping a cloth around the rather large rock, cradling it. He then took a stick and started to twist his lingam around it, stretching it out, warming it up. By now I’ve got the camera all set, aperture, focus, composition. I signaled that I was ready. The young Sadhu squat down and wrapped his cock around the cloth cradling the rock. So that’s the technique, it is all in the legs. Just like they always, say lift with the legs. He tentatively stood up, his face an utter mask of concentration, till the lift was complete. Then he stood straight and smiled at a task well done. I felt like applauding. I was aghast, awestruck.

Back on the stairs I was speechless, I did not think it was possible. We strolled over to the Sadhu’s ashram and I got to meet some stoned-out-of-their-mind chillum smoking elders who could only smile. We had a seat and he served me some hot tea and a hard-boiled egg for lunch. He informed me that a small donation is appreciated. Of course, how silly of me. I checked my pocket and all I had was a few rupees, I was broke. This he does not believe. He assumes all Americans are rich, and for the most part 95% of them that visit Nepal are. The airfare is thousands of dollars let alone accommodations, travel expenses, etc… I explained that in American there are poor and homeless people just like in Kathmandu. He found this hard to believe. “Really, I am here through school on a tight student budget, school paid for every thing, I am a poor student”, I tried to explain to him. I gave him the baseball cap I was wearing and he accepted my story

Posted by Pat at September 23, 2005 07:10 PM

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