Hanuman Dhoka

Listen first. Pigeons lift off the temple plinths in one grey wave. A bicycle bell rings somewhere behind you. A vendor taps a brass bowl, and the note hangs in the air. Under your feet, the old brick paving of Kathmandu Durbar Square is worn smooth and slightly uneven. You are standing at the edge of a royal palace that still feels lived in, even though no king has slept here for well over a century.

This is Hanuman Dhoka. In Nepali, a dhoka is a gate, and the whole palace complex takes its name from one small figure beside its main entrance. Before we go through, let us pause there. Most visitors walk straight past the guardian without really seeing him. That is easy to do, because the guardian has almost no visible face at all.

Look to the side of the doorway. A statue of Hanuman, the monkey god from the epic Ramayana, stands on a stone base under a parasol. In Hindu tradition, Hanuman is the loyal servant of the god Rama, a symbol of strength and devotion. Records date this statue to the seventeenth century, to the reign of King Pratap Malla. Today the figure is wrapped in a red cloak. Its face is thick with red paste, put on by worshippers over many generations. The features are gone under the layers... and that is the point. The statue shows devotion, not carving.

Now look at the gate itself. People call it the Golden Gate. It is a painted and gilded doorway, guarded by a pair of stone lions. Above the door, small painted figures of gods sit in a row. The colours are bright, almost theatrical, against the dark timber and red brick around them. For centuries, this door separated the noise of the city from the private world of its rulers.

Who were those rulers? For several hundred years, the Kathmandu Valley was divided into small kingdoms under the Malla dynasty. Kathmandu, Patan, and Bhaktapur each had their own king and their own palace square. The three cities competed with each other in temples, festivals, and craftsmanship. Much of what you see here grew out of that rivalry. In the eighteenth century, Prithvi Narayan Shah, the king of Gorkha, conquered the valley. His Shah dynasty unified the kingdom and made this palace its seat.

Here is the first surprise. Look along the outer palace wall for a long, carved stone slab. It is an inscription from the time of Pratap Malla, and it is written in many different scripts and languages. Most of it is in the languages and scripts of South Asia. Visitors are often surprised to spot a few words in English and French among them. Pratap Malla was known as a scholar and a poet, and he seems to have liked to show it. Locals say that milk will flow from the stone if someone reads every language on it.

Step inside, and the palace opens into a series of courtyards. Each courtyard is called a chowk. The largest is Nasal Chowk, a long, open rectangle surrounded by wooden buildings. This was the ceremonial heart of the palace. Kings of the Shah dynasty were crowned here, and coronations took place in this courtyard as recently as the late twentieth century. Stand in the middle for a moment. The space feels formal, but it is also strangely quiet after the square outside.

Now look up at the windows and the roof struts. This is Newar woodcarving. The Newars are the historic people of the Kathmandu Valley, and their craftsmen were famous across the Himalaya. Carved lattice windows let light in while hiding the people behind them. Diagonal struts hold the deep roofs, and many of them carry carved gods, dancers, and animals. Some struts carry erotic figures too. Scholars still debate why. One popular explanation says they tested the self-control of passers-by. Another says they protected the building from lightning. Nobody knows for certain.

Near one side of Nasal Chowk, look for a stone figure of Narasimha. He is the half-man, half-lion form of the god Vishnu, shown tearing apart a demon. The sculpture is fierce and very detailed. It is also a reminder that this palace was never purely political. Religion and royal power were bound together here. The kings ruled as protectors of the gods, and the gods were present in every courtyard.

Rising above the southern side of the complex is a tall, multi-tiered tower. This is the Basantapur tower, sometimes called the nine-storey palace. It was added after the Shah conquest in the eighteenth century. From its upper floors, the royal family could look out across the city and the valley. It is a different style from the older Malla buildings, more like a watchtower than a temple. Look at how its tiers step back as they rise.

Here is the second surprise. In April 2015, a powerful earthquake struck Nepal. It killed thousands of people and badly damaged this palace. Walls cracked, and parts of several buildings collapsed, including sections of the tall tower. In the years since, engineers, conservators, and local craftsmen have worked to rebuild it. As you walk, notice the difference between old timber, dark and smooth, and new timber, paler and sharper. Both kinds sit side by side now, and that is part of the story too.

The Shah kings eventually moved out. In the late nineteenth century, the royal family shifted to a newer palace, Narayanhiti, in another part of the city. Nepal's monarchy itself ended in 2008, when the country became a republic. Parts of Hanuman Dhoka now serve as a museum. Rooms display royal objects, portraits, and items connected to past kings. The palace is also part of the Kathmandu Valley World Heritage Site, listed by UNESCO for its monuments.

Before you leave, walk back out through the Golden Gate and stand beside the red-robed Hanuman once more. Look out at the square. Women may be leaving flowers and rice at a small shrine. A porter may be resting against a temple step. Pigeons will land again on the brick, as if nothing ever happened here. Then turn and look at the palace one last time. Kings came and went. The earth shook. The guardian at the gate is still standing.