12:00 p.m.
As the Sharma family’s vehicle navigated the labyrinth of Kathmandu’s narrow streets, Babu turned slightly to address them, his voice carrying the practiced ease of a seasoned guide.
“We’re entering Durbar Square,” he said with pride. “This is the heart of Kathmandu’s history. For centuries, it served as the royal palace complex, where kings were crowned and ruled over the valley. It’s now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, home to some of Nepal’s most beautiful temples, courtyards and statues.” He gestured towards the bustling square ahead, its energy spilling into the streets.
“Normally,” Babu continued, “vehicles aren’t allowed here—it’s closed off to preserve its sanctity and protect the ancient structures. But during certain times, traffic is permitted to ease congestion. Otherwise, these roads would come to a standstill.”
As the car turned a corner, a striking building came into view. Its intricately carved wooden windows and crimson-painted walls seemed to radiate an aura of reverence.
“What is that?” Sophie asked in admiration.
“That,” Babu answered, “is the Kumari Ghar, the residence of the Kumari, the living goddess.”
The family craned their necks to take in the Kumari Ghar’s majesty.
“Quite impressive,” Pappa remarked.
The full moon and the Festival of Lights
Babu smiled at the comment. “You’ve come at a great time. In two weeks, the full moon will mark the peak of Jyoti Utsav, the Festival of Lights. It’s one of the most cherished celebrations of the Newar people—a month-long festival honoring the divine energy of the Kumari and the gods of light and renewal.”
The vehicle slowed to a halt behind a decorated cart carrying fresh flowers and brass oil lamps, its bearers carefully navigating through the crowded street. Babu gestured towards the square, where preparations were already underway. Strings of marigolds draped across balconies, and the scent of incense mingled with the crisp afternoon air.
“During this time, devotees light oil lamps and chant sacred mantras—prayers for safe passage and long life. It’s said that those who recite them with a pure heart invite divine protection on their journey, wherever it may lead.”
Babu’s voice took on a note of reverence. “As the full moon rises, the Kumari’s power is believed to reach its zenith. Many say she can bestow blessings—or reveal omens—to those who are chosen.”
The cart ahead of them finally cleared the street, and Babu eased the vehicle forward, navigating slowly through the labyrinth of Kathmandu’s narrow streets.
“But if the full moon is still half a month away, why does it look like the preparations have already begun?” Sophie asked.
Babu smiled. “Because Jyoti Utsav begins with the appearance of the new moon. The first phase of the festival is a time of cleansing and preparation, a spiritual journey that builds towards the full moon’s grand celebration. The second phase, marked by the waning moon, shifts to themes of sacrifice and redemption. During this month, every home is lit with oil lamps, and offerings are made to the Kumari as the earthly embodiment of the divine. The festival happens only once a year, and this year feels extraordinary.”
Babu slowed the car again, momentarily pausing at a crowded intersection where street vendors sold garlands and festival trinkets.
“Why does this year feel extraordinary?” Harrison asked, leaning forward.
As the traffic thinned, Babu started driving again, moving carefully past a group of monks in saffron robes. “There is an energy in the air,” he said, his voice lowering. “The moon is different, almost like blood.” He paused. “Some say the Kumari herself has been restless, her divine presence more tangible than ever. The elders believe it’s a sign that the gods are watching closely, that something momentous is on the horizon.”
“You mentioned that the Kumari can bless those who are chosen,” Harrison recalled. “What did you mean by…”
Destiny entwined with the living goddess
His voice trailed off as he watched a young girl of seven years step out onto one of the structure’s ornate balconies. She was dressed in vibrant red attire, and she wore a combination of gold and silver jewellery. A golden crown graced her head. Like a peaceful beacon within the city’s chaos, she waved and watched as vehicles and pedestrians moved below her.
For a moment, she seemed like any other child, her movements deliberate yet gentle, her presence poised and serene. But then, as her eyes met Harrison’s, something shifted. Her gaze transformed into a fervent, almost piercing glare.
Harrison experienced a pervasive intensity, freezing time among the chaotic streets. The scent of incense grew more potent, swirling around him, and the sound of chanting monks swelled, their voices rising in a crescendo that seemed to echo the very beat of his heart. A novel sense of obligation gripped him, filling him with a strange pull. Incredibly, he believed that some destiny had been activated or a cosmic task had been set before him.
“Stop the car,” Harrison pleaded. “I need to see something.” His voice was startling in its intensity.
“Is everything all right, Harrison?” his mother questioned.
Promptly, Babu manoeuvred the vehicle to the side of a narrow cobblestone street opposite the Kumari’s residence.
Ravi looked at Harrison with bewildered curiosity. “What did you see?” Receiving no response, Ravi turned towards Sophie. “What did he see?”
In a hushed murmur, Sophie replied, “I don’t know.” She adjusted Cyrus on her lap, angling for a clearer view out the window.
Harrison opened the door, stepped out, and walked towards the balcony, his eyes glued to the Kumari Ghar. “Who is that?” he whispered, his voice a breath.
Everyone turned towards the young girl who had captured Harrison’s attention.
Sophie saw the scene unfold before her. “She’s beautiful,” she commented, almost to herself.
Pappa nodded. “This is incredible.”
Babu exited the vehicle and walked across the street to join Harrison, aware of the moment’s significance. “That’s the Kumari,” Babu answered with reverence. “It’s said that she embodies the spirit of Nepal. She is both a god and mortal.”
The Kumari, chosen as a living deity through elaborate rituals, contained divine energy within herself. Her gaze pierced Harrison’s soul, unlocking a mysterious door of unspeakable promises and complex obligations.
The atmosphere was electric, and everyone sensed something monumental had occurred—something that defied explanation and couldn’t be quantified. A subtle shift had altered Harrison’s being.
Harrison held this indescribable moment close to his heart, opting for quiet reflection rather than sharing it aloud. His thoughts churned as he processed this profoundly resonant interaction, continuing to gaze up at the Kumari.
What I am experiencing? What is this feeling?
The narrow street, the age-old edifice of Kumari Ghar, and the penetrating gaze of the young Kumari created a mystical puzzle in his mind, its pieces yet to be understood. It was as if his destiny was already entwined with that of the young Kumari, creating a complex future that had yet to be revealed.
K.A. Nayampalli is the author of A Journey to the Heart of Kumari trilogy and founder of The Nayampalli House. With a background in classical archaeology and a decade of travel as a flight attendant, she writes immersive young adult fiction that blends mystery, spirituality and adventure across real-world settings.
Excerpted with permission from A Journey to the Heart of Kumari: Guardians of a Secret Legacy, published by The Nayampalli House (2025, www.TheNayampalliHouse.org).
image 1: Aakash Khadka; image 2: Nirmal Dulal; image 3: mishox