Katmandu

Nestled within a broad, bowl‑shaped basin at an elevation scarcely above 1,300 metres, Kathmandu has borne witness to millennia of human endeavour. Its foundation, traced back to the second century AD, marks the city as one of the world’s longest‑continuously inhabited urban centres. Through eras of dynastic rule, foreign incursions and seismic upheaval, this city—today the capital of the Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal—has retained a singular character: at once a seat of power, a crucible of artistic innovation, a convergence point of Hindu and Buddhist devotion, and the engine of a national economy still young in its republican form.

Kathmandu lies at the south‑western margin of the Kathmandu Valley, a fertile basin ringed by forested hills. Historically known as the Nepal Mandala—“mandala” evoking both water and cosmic order in the Newar tongue—the valley nurtured the Newar people, whose sophisticated urban civilisation took shape amid terraced fields and the sinuous courses of eight rivers. These waterways, chief among them the Bagmati and its tributaries—the Bishnumati, Dhobi Khola, Manohara Khola, Hanumante Khola and Tukucha Khola—descend from surrounding heights of 1,500 to 3,000 metres. An ancient canal once ran from Nagarjun Hill to Balaju, supplying precious irrigation, though its course lies silent today. Kathmandu’s administrative limits encompass 50.7 km², contiguous with Lalitpur (Patan), Kirtipur and a ring of municipalities, even as its urban agglomeration spills beyond, reaching Bhaktapur and nearly filling the valley floor.

The city divides into thirty‑two wards, each a mosaic of neighbourhoods whose boundaries are etched in local memory more firmly than in official maps. The pattern of narrow lanes, hidden courtyards and open squares grew organically over centuries, shaped by dynastic patronage as much as by geography. The earliest Licchavi rulers, between the fifth and ninth centuries, left inscriptions and brickwork; the medieval Malla sovereigns, from the fourteenth century onward, commissioned palaces, shrines and stupas that still define the urban centre. Durbar Square—its name derived from Persian, meaning “court”—once accommodated four kingdoms in two linked courtyards, where Kasthamandap, Kumari Ghar and the Hanuman Dhoka palace stand today as reminders of past splendor.

Kathmandu’s climate lies at the intersection of subtropical lowland and temperate highland. Most of the city, between 1,300 and 1,400 metres, experiences a humid subtropical regime (Cwa under Köppen), with hot, humid summers—daily maxima often near 30 °C—and cool, dry winters, when night temperatures can dip near freezing. The surrounding hills, rising above 1,500 metres, enjoy a subtropical highland climate (Cwb), where diurnal swings are sharper and frost occasionally glazes the ground. Annual rainfall averages around 1,400 mm, more than 65 per cent of which arrives with the southwest monsoon between June and September. Record extremes have tested residents: a scant 356 mm in 2001 amid a weak monsoon, and over 2,900 mm in the deluge of 2003. Snow is a rare city‑bound guest, most memorably in 1945 and 2007; the lowest recorded temperature, –3.5 °C, occurred in 1978.

Ecologically, the valley occupies the Deciduous Monsoon Forest Zone, where oak, elm, beech and maple thrive; lower slopes harbor subtropical species, while conifers punctuate higher ridges. This verdant fringe once cloaked every hillside; today, urban expansion and informal settlements carve across slopes, fragmenting woodland and imperiling springs that feed the city.

The 2021 census recorded 845,767 residents within municipal limits, dwelling in roughly 105,600 households; the wider agglomeration approaches four million. In 1991, Kathmandu housed fewer than 430,000 souls; by 2001 that figure reached 672,000, and by 2011 it stood near one million. Rapid urbanisation—running at some four per cent annually—has driven both horizontal sprawl and vertical crowding. In 2011 the city contained 975,543 individuals in 254,292 homes; by 2021 projections anticipated 1.3 million inhabitants.

Kathmandu’s populace is multi‑ethnic. Newars, whose civilization predates the city’s very name, remain the largest indigenous group at around 25 per cent. The Khas community—Bahuns (Hill Brahmin) and Chhetris—combined account for roughly 43 per cent. Janajati groups, chiefly Tamang, Magar, Gurung and Rai, contribute another 18 per cent, while Muslims, Marwadis and other Madheshi peoples reside in smaller numbers. Age‑wise, 70 per cent of residents fall between 15 and 59 years, reflecting a youthful majority with burgeoning economic demands.

Linguistically, Nepali serves as the lingua franca and mother tongue for 62 per cent. Newari persists in nearly a fifth of households; Tamang, Maithili, Bhojpuri, Gurung, Magar and Sherpa echo less frequently. English proficiency rises among the educated and tourism workers.

Religion permeates Kathmandu’s public and private life. Hindus form a majority; Buddhists constitute a significant minority; and Islam, Christianity and animist traditions coexist. Festivities punctuate the calendar: Bisket Jatra at Bhaktapur in mid‑April; the colourful Newar festivals of Indra Jatra and Gai Jatra; Dashain and Tihar across Nepal; and the Buddhist observances of Losar and Buddha Jayanti. At each religious precinct—be it the gilded spires of Pashupatinath Temple, the thousand prayer wheels of Boudhanath Stupa, or the terraces ascending Swayambhunath—pilgrims trace frosted stone with reverence.

In 1979, UNESCO inscribed seven monument zones in the valley: the Durbar Squares of Kathmandu, Patan (Lalitpur) and Bhaktapur; the Hindu temples of Pashupatinath and Changu Narayan; the Buddhist stupas of Swayambhunath and Boudhanath. Together they occupy 189 hectares, with a 2,394‑hectare buffer. The Hanuman Dhoka complex—textured by Licchavi inscriptions, Malla-era palaces and a labyrinth of ten courtyards—crowns the inner quadrangle of Kathmandu’s Durbar Square. Over fifty temples attend its precincts, calling forth craftsmen versed in woodcarving, stone sculpture and terracotta work.

Kumari Ghar, adjacent to the square, shelters the living goddess, Kumari Devi. Chosen through precise astrological and physical examinations, she embodies the deity Taleju until menarche or serious illness compels her withdrawal. Kasthamandap, from which the city takes its name, rose in the sixteenth century as a rest house at the crossroads of India–Tibet trade. Its three pagoda‑roofed tiers once framed the horizon of Maru square; much of the timber was lost in the 2015 earthquake, yet its legend endures.

Pashupatinath, by the Bagmati’s banks, traces worship of Shiva to the fifth century. Though Mughal incursions in the fourteenth century eradicated early structures, the nineteenth‑century rebuild—its copper and gold roofs gleaming above carved wooden rafters—stands as Nepal’s most hallowed Hindu shrine. Only Hindus may enter its inner precinct; others view the ghats and shrines from the opposite bank.

Boudhanath, eleven kilometres northeast of the city centre, is one of the world’s largest spherical stupas. Its whitewashed dome supports a towering spire inscribed with the all‑seeing eyes of Buddha. Pilgrims circumambulate its base, spin prayer wheels, and hoist flags from summit to ground, their colours vivid against the sky. Around the stupa cluster over fifty Tibetan gompas, the legacy of refugees fleeing China’s policies.

Swayambhunath, atop the north‑western ridge, melds Buddhist and Hindu reverence. A hundred stone steps ascend to its dome and cubical shrine, where painted eyes rest on all quarters. To the south perch monkeys amid prayer flags—a testament to both mischief and devotion.

Ranipokhari, the Queen’s Pond, lies at the city’s heart. Built in 1670 by King Pratap Malla after his queen’s tragic loss, its central island temple is reached by causeway once per year, at Bhai Tika, a ceremony entwined with sibling bonds. Earthquake damage and subsequent restoration have revived its placid waters and elephant‑sculptured gates.

Outside its streets, the valley is a repository of intangible artistry. Paubha painting—its iconography tracing to Ashokan‑era Buddhism—coexists with contemporary canvases exploring abstraction, social critique and Tantric motifs. Sculptors fashion deities in bronze and stone; carpenters carve latticed windows that balance shadow and light.

Kathmandu hosts a constellation of museums. The National Museum, adjacent to Swayambhunath, opened in 1928 as an armory; today it displays weapons, relics and art dating from medieval cannons to royal regalia. Nearby, the Natural History Museum exhibits taxidermy, fossils and botanical specimens, mapping Nepal’s biodiversity. The Tribhuvan and Mahendra museums honour their namesake kings through personal effects, letters and reconstructed chambers. Narayanhiti Palace, site of the 2001 royal massacre, now invites visitors to its museum, set within grounds once reserved for monarchs. The Taragaon Museum, conceived by Carl Pruscha in 1970, documents half a century of conservation and scholarship, its rehabilitation aligning modern design with local brick craftsmanship.

Art galleries abound. The National Art Gallery, the NEF‑ART Gallery, and the Nepal Art Council Gallery in Babar Mahal stage exhibitions that range from Thangka scrolls to installation works. Srijana Contemporary Gallery and Moti Azima Gallery spotlight living artists; J Art Gallery and NAFA Gallery provide platforms for both established and emerging talent. A British charity, the Kathmandu Contemporary Art Centre, links local creators to global audiences.

Kathmandu’s palate blends lentil‑steamed rice (dal bhat) with vegetable curries, achar and chutney; momo—steamed or fried dumplings filled with buff, chicken or vegetables—now rivals dal bhat as a national emblem. Street‑side stalls and teahouses offer Chiya, a spiced milk tea, richer than its Tibetan counterpart. Alcoholic traditions include rice wine (thwon), millet brew (tongba), and distilled raksi; buffalo meat predominates, while beef remains taboo for most Hindus and pork carries varied taboos across faiths. Western and continental menus have grown with tourism, spawning hybrid dishes—American chop suey among them—and a scattering of high‑end hotels and casinos in Thamel and adjacent districts.

Kathmandu’s prosperity rests on trade, crafts and services. As an ancient node on the India–Tibet route, it fostered Lhasa Newar merchants who transported pashmina, paper and artworks across high passes. Traditional vocations—woodcarving, metal casting, weaving, pottery—persist alongside garment factories and carpet workshops. Today the metropolitan economy—valued at some NPR 550 billion annually—accounts for over a third of Nepal’s GDP. Trade generates 21 per cent of its revenue; manufacturing 19 per cent; agriculture, education, transport, and hospitality furnish the remainder. The Nepal Stock Exchange, the central bank, and headquarters of banks, telecoms and international organisations all cluster within KMC limits.

Tourism remains vital. From fewer than 6,200 arrivals in the early 1960s, Kathmandu welcomed almost half a million tourists by 2000; civil conflict dimmed growth, yet post‑2010 stability saw renewed rises. In 2013, TripAdvisor ranked the city third among emerging destinations globally and first in Asia. Thamel, a labyrinth of guesthouses, restaurants and shops, pulses as the tourism nucleus; Jhamsikhel—“Jhamel”—and historic Freak Street recall hippie lore. Luxury hotels, hostels and homestays accommodate a diverse clientele, while trekking agencies depots prepare visitors for Himalayan ventures.

Roads fan out along the basin rim and valley floor—Tribhuvan Highway southward to India, Araniko Highway north to China, Prithvi Highway west and the BP Highway east. Sajha Yatayat buses and private minibuses thread the valley lanes; the trolleybus once linked Tripureshwor and Suryabinayak, now a memory. Tribhuvan International Airport, the nation’s sole international gateway, handles large airliners—Boeing 777s, Airbus A330s, Dreamliners—and turboprops like the ATR 72 and Dash 8 on domestic routes. Ropeways, however rudimentary, mark Nepal’s hillside ingenuity.

Kathmandu embodies contrasts: ancient stone shrines and glass‑fronted banks; verdant hills and concrete sprawl; Hindu rites and Buddhist chants; artisans’ chisels and tourists’ camera clicks. Its identity arose from geography—a fertile lake basin in the Himalayas—and evolved through epochs of rulers and pilgrims. Today, as the seat of a federal republic and province capital, it confronts challenges of modernisation: urban planning, river pollution, seismic risk, heritage conservation. Yet its streets still resonate with temple bells, festival drums and the murmur of languages spanning centuries. In this layering of past and present, Kathmandu remains not merely a city but a living chronicle: a place where belief and craft, commerce and community, converge amid the mountains’ ancient watch.