A barefoot boy stood alone on the cobblestone roadside

Strolling through the old quarters of Bhaktapur, Nepal’s ancient capital, I found the streets lined with magnificent brick facades, humming with the familiar, moderate bustle of local life. Amidst the charming chaos of the roadside, a young boy stood anchored to the spot, entirely alone. A downward glance revealed he wore neither shoes nor sandals. The jagged stone paving of this historic town seemed rather unforgiving for bare feet, yet to him, this was undoubtedly just the ordinary texture of daily life. Clutching a small, paper-wrapped snack in his hands, he chewed rhythmically, his eyes fixed intently on something far down the avenue.

Intrigued, I traced his unwavering gaze, hoping to discover the source of his profound fascination. My eyes, however, met nothing but the mundane ebb and flow of pedestrians. Whatever had so utterly captivated him remained a complete mystery to me. In Nepal, cows are revered as sacred envoys of the Hindu pantheon, possessing the divine right to sprawl unabashedly in the middle of a busy thoroughfare, sparking spontaneous traffic jams. Recognizing them as messengers of the gods, the locals never utter a word of complaint, simply yielding the right of way. I half-wondered if the boy was perhaps tracking the languid progress of one of these holy beasts, but a sweep of the road ahead yielded nothing of the sort.

My attention drifted back to the child. It is a peculiar, almost exasperating trait of childhood—this capacity to become entirely consumed by trivialities that adult minds can no longer comprehend. Standing barefoot on the dusty roadside, nibbling at his treat, he remained earnestly devoted to his invisible marvel. Watching his quiet, intense absorption was, in its own way, a thoroughly delightful spectacle.

Bhaktapur on Google Map

Comment via

日本語