The rain had other plans for us. We had hoped to spend the morning at Chandragiri, enjoying panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and experiencing its famous ropeway. But when we woke up the next day, the weather was exactly what we had feared. It was raining heavily, leaving us little choice but to abandon our plans and look for an alternative.

We went downstairs for breakfast and began discussing what we could do instead. Since it was Monday, we were following our usual vegetarian diet without onion and garlic. We therefore chose whatever suitable options were available and enjoyed our breakfast while a light drizzle continued outside.

After returning to our room, we waited for the rain to ease. Eventually, the weather improved enough for us to venture out. I suggested visiting Basantapur Durbar Square, which we had missed during our earlier attempt. We had arrived there after nightfall on our previous visit, when most of the attractions were already closed. My wife agreed, and we set off on foot through the lively lanes of Thamel.

The neighbourhood looked completely different in daylight. Shops had opened, cafés were bustling, and tourists and locals filled the streets. The walk itself was enjoyable, and before long, we arrived at our first destination of the day.

Hanuman Dhoka (Basantapur Durbar Square)

As we entered Basantapur Durbar Square, rows of shops greeted us, giving the place the appearance of a bustling marketplace. Amid this commercial activity stood a small, two-storeyed black temple guarded by two lion statues. Inside were several shrines, with Goddess Durga as the principal deity. It seemed an auspicious way to begin our Monday. We offered our prayers before continuing our exploration.

A little piece of Nepal to take home

My wife had been looking for a traditional Nepali mangalsutra for several days. Known locally as Tilhari, usually worn with a Pote Mala, this distinctive piece of jewellery had always appealed to her. And what better place to buy one than Nepal itself?

The market around Basantapur seemed particularly well suited to her search. Several shops displayed an astonishing variety of designs, while some craftsmen were busy making and assembling the jewellery right in front of their customers. There were so many combinations of Tilhari and Pote Mala to choose from that we spent quite some time browsing. Eventually, my wife found the designs she liked and bought two—one for herself and another for my mother.

It was a lovely little shopping experience, made all the more special by the thought of carrying home something traditional from Nepal.

Where heritage meets modern commerce

With the shopping done, we began exploring the Square more closely. One of the first things I noticed was the contrast between its different sections. Some areas were dominated by modern buildings and commercial establishments, while others retained beautiful old structures reflecting traditional Nepali architecture.

The historical charm of Basantapur was certainly present, but it existed alongside a considerable amount of modern commercial activity. The coexistence of old and new gave the Square a distinctive character, although it sometimes felt as if the marketplace had taken precedence over the heritage around it.

I would appreciate this contrast even more after visiting Patan and Bhaktapur later that day. Both seemed to have preserved their traditional architectural character more consistently, particularly Bhaktapur, which would leave the strongest impression on me. For now, however, Basantapur had offered us a pleasant combination of spirituality, shopping and a glimpse into Kathmandu’s historical heart.

A Blessing at Kaal Bhairav

As we wandered deeper into the Square, the busy marketplace gradually gave way to a quieter, more devotional atmosphere. We had reached the shrine of Lord Kaal Bhairav. What struck me immediately was the unusual setting. Unlike a conventional temple, the shrine stood in a small, open enclosure without the familiar roof or enclosed sanctum one might expect.

Another detail caught my attention: the woman looking after the shrine was also guiding devotees through the worship. It was different from the arrangements I was accustomed to seeing at temples, and I watched with curiosity as she helped devotees perform their prayers.

The offering thali was equally unfamiliar. Along with flowers and other traditional offerings, it contained eggs and two kinds of madira, or alcohol. Devotees could approach the deity directly, touch the feet of the shrine and offer their prayers themselves.

The entire experience felt different from the rituals I had encountered elsewhere, yet it was deeply satisfying. It reminded me that religious traditions can take remarkably different forms, even when the devotion behind them is familiar. After offering our prayers to Lord Kaal Bhairav, we were ready to move on to Patan Durbar Square.

Our plans, however, changed along the way. My friend Dr. Ruchi, who had earlier invited us to meet her near Patan, called to apologise. Her daughter had suddenly fallen ill and needed to be admitted to the hospital. Naturally, she had to cancel our meeting.

We completely understood and hoped everything would be fine. We agreed to catch up during our next visit to Kathmandu. And so, once again, it was just the two of us, continuing our exploration of this fascinating city.

Patan Durbar Square: An Architectural Treasure

After some time, our cab dropped us near Patan Durbar Square. The entrance was under construction, so we had to negotiate an uneven path before finally reaching the Square. The moment we arrived, I noticed a difference from Basantapur.

Patan felt more spacious and considerably less crowded. Many of its old buildings appeared to have retained their original architectural character, both inside and outside. Modern shops were present, but they often occupied older structures rather than replacing them entirely with new construction. There were modern buildings too, of course, but they seemed far less prominent than those around Basantapur. The overall impression was of a historical space that had managed to accommodate contemporary life without losing too much of its past.

We began strolling around, taking in the architecture and the atmosphere.

A temple, a kirtan & an ancient legend

One of the first structures to catch my attention was an old Radha Krishna Temple. Its architecture appeared to combine elements reminiscent of Indian temple design, particularly the Kalinga style, with the distinctive tiered forms associated with East Asian pagodas. This blending of architectural influences seemed characteristic of much of Patan. The buildings reflected a fascinating interaction between Indian religious traditions and the distinctive artistic heritage of the Newar people.

Beside the temple, a kirtan was in progress. We sat down for a while, listening to the devotional singing and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere before continuing our walk. Nepal has a rich tradition of devotion to Radha and Krishna, so encountering this beautiful temple felt entirely natural. What fascinated me even more, however, was the mythology associated with the Kathmandu Valley itself.

During our travels through Nepal, I had come across different traditional accounts of how the Valley came into being. According to the Nepāla Māhātmya, the Valley was once an enormous lake whose waters were held back by a demon named Kacchapasura. Lord Krishna, accompanied by his son Pradyumna, came to the region, where the demon was defeated and the waters were released, making the Valley habitable.

Another tradition connects the naming of the land with the installation of Anantaśayana Vishnu—Lord Vishnu reclining upon Shesh Nag—whom we had visited the previous day at Budhanilkantha Temple.

I found it fascinating that the places we were visiting seemed to be connected through these stories. Only the previous day, at Swayambhunath, we had encountered a Buddhist account of the Valley’s origin. Now, in Patan, we were discovering a Hindu tradition that offered a different perspective on the same landscape.

Both traditions continue to form part of Nepal’s rich cultural heritage. Their coexistence, sometimes within the same geographical and cultural spaces, is one of the things that makes the country so fascinating to explore.

Inside the Patan Museum

As we continued our walk, we noticed a museum within the Square and decided to go inside. After purchasing our tickets, we entered a surprisingly extensive collection of exhibits documenting Nepal’s history, architecture and cultural traditions. Descriptions and illustrations helped us understand how the Square had looked centuries ago and how it had evolved over time.

One section was devoted to the devastating earthquake of 2015. Photographs showed the extent of the destruction suffered by Patan Durbar Square and its historic structures. Other displays documented the painstaking restoration and reconstruction that followed. Seeing those images was particularly moving. The buildings standing around us were beautiful in their own right, but understanding what they had endured made them seem even more remarkable. Their survival was not simply a matter of architectural strength. It also reflected the determination of the Nepali people to preserve their cultural heritage and restore what had been damaged.

The museum offered insights into Nepal’s traditions as well. One exhibit explained the custom of the Kumari, the Living Goddess. A young girl from the Newar community is selected according to traditional criteria and revered as a living manifestation of Goddess Taleju, associated with Durga. She continues in this role until she reaches puberty, when another Kumari is chosen. I found it fascinating that such an ancient tradition continues to be practised in contemporary Nepal.

The museum itself was spread across a large area and even housed a spacious restaurant. By then, it was afternoon, and we were beginning to feel hungry. Since we were observing our Monday dietary restrictions, we ordered pasta without onion and garlic. The food was good, and after lunch, we returned to the Square to continue exploring.

A leisurely afternoon in Patan

Outside the museum, we came across a white building with British-style architectural features that was being used for administrative purposes. In front of it stretched a large, tiled open space where hawkers had set up stalls selling handicrafts, decorative items and jewellery.

My wife spent some time browsing through the stalls, while I enjoyed watching the activity around us. After a while, we decided to treat ourselves to ice cream from Baskin Robbins. It was a pleasant little break after our museum visit and leisurely walk through the Square.

We still had some time left in the day, and I began wondering whether we could squeeze in one more destination. Bhaktapur Durbar Square! If we managed to get there before dusk, we would have visited all three of the Kathmandu Valley’s famous Durbar Squares in a single day. My wife agreed, and we hailed a cab for the next leg of our journey.

Three Durbar Squares, Three Former Kingdoms

As we travelled towards Bhaktapur, a question kept coming to mind: why did the Kathmandu Valley have three different Durbar Squares, and how had they eventually become part of the same urban region?

I later learnt that Kathmandu, Patan—also known as Lalitpur—and Bhaktapur were once independent kingdoms ruled by different Malla kings. Each had its own royal palace, administrative centre and Durbar Square, reflecting the power, wealth and artistic ambitions of its rulers.

The Valley was eventually unified in the eighteenth century under King Prithvi Narayan Shah, bringing the three kingdoms into a single political entity.

Yet, despite this shared history and their geographical proximity, the three Durbar Squares have retained remarkably distinct identities.

Basantapur felt like a lively meeting point of history and commerce. Patan offered a more spacious and harmonious blend of heritage and everyday activity. Bhaktapur, as we were about to discover, seemed to preserve the character of an ancient city more completely than either of the other two.

Bhaktapur Durbar Square: Walking Through a Living Medieval City

By the time we arrived, we had reached the final Durbar Square on our itinerary. One thing immediately surprised me: entry to Bhaktapur Durbar Square required a ticket. Fortunately, the ticket came with a map of the entire heritage area, which proved useful for navigating its many streets, courtyards and monuments.

The Square felt different from the moment we entered. There was considerably less modern construction within the main heritage area, and the historic buildings seemed to retain their traditional character. Most of the visible modern additions appeared to serve practical purposes, such as signboards, lighting and other conveniences, rather than fundamentally altering the old architecture.

Of the three Durbar Squares, Bhaktapur seemed to have preserved its historical atmosphere most successfully.

A heritage site that is still alive

What impressed me even more was that Bhaktapur was not simply a preserved historical monument. It remained a functioning town where people lived, worked and carried on their daily lives. The Square and its surrounding neighbourhoods were organised into different sections connected by broad streets and narrower lanes. Traditional pokharas, or ponds, were scattered throughout the area, adding to the impression of a thoughtfully planned urban landscape.

As we walked along the main roads, I found myself imagining how this royal city might have functioned centuries ago. Its streets, public spaces and interconnected neighbourhoods seemed to reveal something about the planning and organisation of a medieval settlement. Even today, the wider roads appeared practical, while the smaller lanes connected the different parts of the historic centre.

Traditions at the threshold

Another detail that caught my attention was how lived-in the place felt. Unlike some heritage areas where historic buildings have largely become museums, shops or visitor attractions, Bhaktapur had numerous houses that people still occupied, perhaps across several generations.

In front of many homes, I noticed traditional threshold stones and sacred markings decorated with flowers and rice as part of daily worship. These practices are associated with protecting the household and inviting auspiciousness into the home. Seeing such customs being observed in an everyday setting filled me with a sense of pride as a Hindu.

I must admit that I do not personally follow many of these older traditions. Nevertheless, I have immense respect for the people who continue to preserve them and pass them on to future generations. There was something deeply moving about seeing faith expressed so naturally—not only in grand temples and elaborate ceremonies, but also at the entrance to ordinary homes.

It reminded me of Nepal’s unique religious history. The country was once the world’s only Hindu kingdom, and its Hindu traditions remain an important part of its cultural identity, alongside its rich Buddhist heritage. In Bhaktapur, these traditions did not feel like exhibits arranged for tourists. They appeared to be woven into the rhythm of daily life.

Getting lost in the lanes of history

We continued exploring, following the map that had come with our tickets. Except for the main road, most routes branched into narrow lanes connecting different parts of the Square. Some places I would have loved to visit, including pottery studios and artisan workshops, had already closed by the time we reached them.

Dusk was approaching, but we were determined to see as much as we could. We walked from one end of the Square to the other, occasionally losing our way before finding the correct route again. Far from being frustrating, these little detours added to the enjoyment of the experience.

Every lane seemed to reveal another old building, stone-paved street or glimpse of traditional architecture. The surroundings were so evocative that I could almost imagine myself walking through a medieval city, with only a few modern touches reminding me of the present day.

There was no need to hurry. The pleasure lay in wandering, observing and allowing the place to reveal itself gradually. We visited a couple of magnificent temples, offered our prayers and continued exploring. This was also when I reflected on the title I had chosen for my travelogue: The City of Temples.

Not a single day had passed during our stay in Kathmandu without our visiting a temple dedicated to one deity or another. From the sacred sites of Pashupatinath, Guhyeshwari, Swayambhunath, and Budhanilkantha to the shrines of Basantapur, Patan and Bhaktapur, temples had become an integral part of our journey.

They had introduced us not only to Nepal’s religious traditions but also to its history, architecture, legends and everyday cultural practices.

Coffee, kirtan & a beautiful view

After spending hours walking around, we decided it was time for a break. We found a café on the second floor of Himalayan Java Coffee. We ordered coffee and French fries and settled down for a while, enjoying the view of the Square through the window.

The kirtan playing nearby added to the atmosphere. Looking out at the historic surroundings from our comfortable seat, I felt grateful that our unplanned detour had brought us here. We had originally hoped to spend the day admiring mountain views from Chandragiri, but the rain had led us on an entirely different adventure.

Instead of panoramic views of the Himalayas, we had spent the day surrounded by centuries of architecture, faith, craftsmanship and living history. In retrospect, it was a wonderful alternative.

Finally, we made our way out of the Square. I tried booking a cab through InDrive but was unsuccessful, so I asked a didi who owned a small eatery nearby if she could help us. She was kind enough to book a cab for us using the Pathao app on her phone. After waiting for about twenty minutes, our cab finally arrived, and we headed back to Thamel. We returned to Thamel tired after a long day of walking. Chandragiri would have to wait for another visit. In its place, we had found a different kind of panorama: not mountain peaks, but centuries of faith, craft, memory and daily life.

An Unexpected Helping Hand

Eventually, it was time to leave Bhaktapur and return to Thamel. I tried booking a cab through InDrive, but without success. Unsure how else to arrange our return journey, I approached a didi who owned a small eatery nearby and asked if she could help. She kindly offered to book a cab for us through the Pathao app on her phone.

We waited for about twenty minutes before our cab finally arrived, and soon we were on our way back to Thamel. It was a small act of kindness, but one that stayed with me. Travelling is often about discovering new places, yet some of its most memorable moments come from the generosity of people we meet along the way.

After a long day of walking, we returned to our hotel tired but satisfied.

Chandragiri would have to wait for another visit. In its place, we had discovered something equally rewarding: a journey through three historic royal cities, each with its own architectural character and cultural identity.

The Day That Rain Changed Our Plans

Since it was still Monday, we continued to follow our vegetarian diet without onion and garlic. Rather than going out for dinner, we bought some packed food on our way back and decided to eat in our room. By then, we were exhausted after spending almost the entire day on our feet. We reached the hotel, had dinner and soon settled down for the night.

Looking back, I realised that the rain had done more than disrupt our plans. It had encouraged us to explore a different side of the Kathmandu Valley. We had walked through the busy lanes of Basantapur, discovered the artistic and spiritual richness of Patan, and wandered through the remarkably preserved streets of Bhaktapur. Along the way, we had offered prayers, learnt about ancient legends, admired traditional architecture, explored a museum and witnessed customs that continue to shape everyday life in Nepal.

Each Durbar Square had told a different story.

Basantapur showed us how history and commerce could coexist, even if not always seamlessly. Patan revealed the beauty of traditional architecture and the enduring importance of cultural preservation. Bhaktapur offered perhaps the most compelling glimpse of all—a historical city that remained alive, inhabited and connected to its past.

Together, they helped me understand why the Kathmandu Valley is such a remarkable destination for anyone interested in history, religion, architecture and culture.

We had set out that morning hoping to see mountains from above. Instead, we had travelled through centuries of human creativity and devotion. And sometimes, I realised, the most memorable journeys are the ones we never planned.