Okay, this was the big one for me. The original reason why I wanted to go to Nepal — to visit the Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu. One of the locations used in the film
Little Buddha. After watching that film a few times, I’d been drawn to this stupa with its four pairs of Buddha’s eyes gazing out in all four directions. What could be cooler than that?
So after we left the Golden Temple in Patan, the next stop for our Nandaka Vihara group of travellers was Boudhanath. At first, I wasn’t even aware of where we were heading. I was just following our guide down a road, then we turned into a narrow passageway and suddenly, staring down on me from a distance, were the eyes. Oh, we’re here at last, I told Saw See. We waited rather impatiently for the tickets to be bought. Foreigners have to pay to enter, whereas locals can move in and out freely. That’s just how things are.
For a place I’d been dreaming about for years, Boudhanath didn’t disappoint. It was everything I’d imagined. Standing in the middle of Kathmandu’s chaos, it rises above the bustle like a giant, serene mandala. Calm, immovable, sacred. Boudhanath is not just a stupa. It’s one of the largest and most significant Buddhist monuments in the world. It’s been here for centuries, believed to date back to the fifth century AD, or possibly earlier. For hundreds of years it served as a key stop on the ancient trade route between Nepal and Tibet. Tibetan merchants would pause here to offer prayers before continuing their journeys over the mountains. No wonder this stupa has such deep connections to Tibetan Buddhism. Even today, it remains a central hub for the Tibetan refugee community in Nepal. You can feel that heritage all around.
The stupa’s massive white dome stood tall before us. And those iconic wisdom eyes that had drawn me here in the first place. Of course, they weren’t just decorative. They symbolised the Buddha’s omniscient gaze, watching over all sentient beings. Beneath the eyes, where the nose would be, was a curious symbol that looked like a question mark. It’s actually the Nepali number “1”, representing unity and the single path to enlightenment. Above that, rising into the sky, were thirteen gilded tiers — each one symbolising a step towards full awakening. And at the very top sat the symbolic canopy of Nirvana.
Around the base, colourful prayer flags fluttered in every direction. Monks, nuns, pilgrims and tourists moved about — most walking in clockwise circles, going with the flow, spinning the prayer wheels as they went. Now and then, one or two people insisted on going the other way, but by and large, the movement was smooth and steady. I noticed a few monks and lay pilgrims doing the full three-steps-one-prostration ritual around the stupa, a very slow but determined process with their bodies rising and falling with each cycle.
Boudhanath isn't just a monument; it’s alive. The air hummed with the low drone of chants, the clink of spinning wheels, the occasional beat of a drum and the unmistakable smell of incense. Monasteries and shops lined the circular path. One could browse handicrafts, or just stand quietly and take it all in. Mostly, I stood in awe. I was brought out of my reverie by my friends. We were going for coffee in one of those cafés on the first floor. Jolly good idea. From there, coffee in hand, I continued staring out the window at the two eyes — which stared calmly back at me. Inwardly, I felt cleansed.
This stupa was damaged during the 2015 earthquake, and the top had to be rebuilt. The restoration was meticulous and respectful. To see Boudhanath standing so strong now felt like a symbol of Nepal itself: shaken but unbroken.
And so, there I was. After years of watching Little Buddha, imagining what it would be like, I finally stood beneath those all-seeing eyes. The real thing wasn’t just cool. It was something else altogether — grounding, humbling, strangely emotional. I could have remained there for hours. But soon, it was time to move along.
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