July 27, 2025

The wide open space south of Hanuman Dhoka Durbar Square is known as Basantapur, and it feels like the pause between deep breaths—a ceremonial lung in the middle of Kathmandu’s dense old city. On festival days, it fills with drums, dancers, and color. On regular mornings, it’s a sprawl of quiet corners, sun-soaked temples, and old men sipping tea beneath prayer flags.

Basantapur once served as the royal plaza—the outer court of Kathmandu’s Malla palace—and it still wears its heritage with grace. Tiered pagodas and stone shrines cluster along the edges. The great nine-story Basantapur Tower, which once offered sweeping views of the valley, still dominates the skyline, though its top was shaken by the 2015 earthquake. Restoration work continues, yet the soul of the place remains untouched: this is where gods and kings shared space, where music, power, and prayer all had a home.

During Indra Jatra, Basantapur becomes the center of gravity for the living goddess Kumari. Her chariot emerges from the Kumari Ghar, rolling through crowds as masked gods dance and the city holds its breath. But even without the pageantry, Basantapur feels sacred. You’ll often find street children kicking a ball in front of a centuries-old temple, or monks chatting beside a forgotten lion statue, its mane smoothed by a thousand hands.

There’s something cinematic about this square—as if Kathmandu itself wrote its story here. Basantapur may no longer house kings, but it remains a palace of memory, wide open to anyone who wants to sit and listen to the silence between bells.