The funeral pyres at Kathmandu’s riverfront temple have been burning constantly. But instead of bodies, what they have burned are effigies, fashioned from sacred grass, as if to evoke something tangible of the loved ones who disappeared in Nepal’s devastating floods. Nine days after walls of mud and rubble swept through a Himalayan valley along the Nepal-Tibet border, leveling entire villages, the death toll has risen to more than 1,200. Relatives of another 5,000 missing people have searched from hospital to hospital, waiting and waiting, hoping for a miracle, or at least closure. On Friday, rescuers raced to retrieve survivors among dozens of people believed to have been found trapped in a tunnel. But many of whose loved ones are among the missing have begun to feel resignation. According to Hindu rituals in Nepal, the mourning period after a death is 13 days. If the rites are not performed before the tenth day, the clock is reset. Some families, accepting that they may never receive the actual remains, have chosen to perform a symbolic cremation of a figure made of bunches of kusha grass. Nearly 300 effigy cremations have taken place at the temple over the past three days, temple officials said. Among the solemn spectators Thursday at the temple in Kathmandu, Nepal’s capital, was Darshan Bhattarai, 15, who came to perform the last rites for his father, Pushpa Raj Bhattarai, 46, one of the thousands dead or missing. Temple.Credit…Adnan Abidi/Reuters Darshan had been living in the city with his mother, Kamala, and attended a private school on the salary his father earned, about $300 a month, his relatives said. In search of a better life, the family first moved from the eastern hills of Nepal to the southern plains, where Mr. Bhattarai for years ran a retail store. About a decade ago, he got a job as an administrative assistant in Nepal’s hydropower sector. He was posted to one of the projects in Trishuli, an area devastated by last week’s floods. Nepal’s hydropower projects suffered some of the worst damage from the floods, caused by a glacial collapse that triggered an overwhelming avalanche of mud, gravel and water. Some workers were dragged away. Others were trapped in tunnels. Rescue teams have spent days trying to find a way inside. “When his phone rang, we knew something was wrong,” said Sukhdev Khanal, a relative of Bhattarai. “One of his colleagues had gone out to smoke and survived. He later told us that the rest were swept away.” After a week without news, hope dimmed. So Mr. Bhattarai’s family reached the Kathmandu temple, the Pashupatinath Temple, before the tenth day had passed, to perform the cremation on the banks of the Bagmati River. Darshan arrived with his mother and other family members and friends. The priest, Rishi Neupane, came with the necessary items for cremation: kusha grass, firewood, rice, ghee and marigolds. A piece of cloth that serves as a shroud. Darshan and his family watched as Mr. Neupune twisted and tied bundles of grass until it looked like a large straw doll. Darshan was performing a funeral ritual during his father’s cremation on Thursday in Kathmandu. Credit…Adnan Abidi/Reuters As is customary, Darshan’s head had to be shaved as an act of purification before the ceremony could be performed. He went to a tap on the side of the temple, put his head under the water and sat on the edge of the stairs, while a neighbor used a razor and began shaving lock after lock. Darshan laughed as one of his young cousins felt his shaved head, stroking the lock of hair that usually remains on the crown of his head, a tender moment before the ceremony. mooring Darshan and some of his relatives retreated, seeking shelter under a ledge, while the priest and half a dozen men continued. Mr. Bhattarai’s sister-in-law, umbrella in hand, made a video call to her elderly parents in the village, showing them the effigy. As it rained, Darshan and the men lowered the effigy into the river for a cleansing bath, while people took turns paying their respects to Mr. Bhattarai’s photo. Praveen Bhattarai, 40, a childhood friend of Mr. Bhattarai, was among the mourners. She said she had last seen him during a visit to his house for the Dussehra festival last year. They had played cards. Mr. Bhattarai was someone who always kept a cheerful mood, he said. “Doing the last rites this way is very difficult for the family,” Praveen Bhattarai said. “Somewhere, deep in his heart, there will always be the question: that maybe he is alive.” Cremation rituals at the temple, next to the Bagmati River. Credit… Adnan Abidi/Reuters The family lifted the stretcher and walked in procession, through the thick smoke of other burning pyres, across a bridge over the river to the stone platform where Mr. Bhattarai’s pyre would be placed. Darshan lit the fire. While his uncle stabilized him from behind, the young man walked around the effigy as it burned, followed by his mother. They watched it turn into ashes and then Darshan came down to immerse some of the ashes in the river. As the priest read a final prayer from his mobile phone, family and friends used river water to purify the platform where the cremation had taken place. Mother and son, with their relatives arm in arm, slowly made their way through the temple grounds. On their way out, they passed a large group of pilgrims who were dancing to the beat of drums and chanting “Om namah Shiva!” in praise of the god whose spiritual home is near. They continued on, and Darshan was almost dragged by his uncle, as if sleepwalking into a heavy future.
