Liu Dihong
In September 2024, Nepal hosted its first International Children’s Literature Conference, inviting children’s literature authors from ten countries. I was fortunate to represent China, along with six other authors, at this conference.
China and Nepal are close neighbors connected by mountains and rivers, and the world’s highest peak—Mount Everest—is shared by both countries. Although Nepal is a neighboring country, it was the first time for all of us to visit, and we were filled with curiosity and longing for this land.
Before the plane even landed, we already had our first impression of Kathmandu. Tribhuvan International Airport is close to the capital, so during the plane’s descent, we had an aerial view of the Kathmandu Valley. There were no modern skyscrapers; low, densely packed brick houses lined up in rows. The cityscape wasn’t exactly glamorous, appearing rather drab and worn out.
Stepping out of the airport, it felt more like a bus terminal in China. The roads were not wide, and cars and motorcycles formed a flowing river, bustling and noisy. I quietly concluded that Nepal’s infrastructure development was relatively lagging.
The organizers arranged for us to stay at a hotel. It was a red-brick building several stories high, with no elevator but air conditioning in the rooms. I hadn’t seen any air conditioners at the airport, so enjoying one in the room seemed like a special courtesy from the hosts. However, the room’s facilities were somewhat simple and old, incomparable to star-rated hotels in China and more similar to guesthouses.
In the evening, we strolled around Thamel Street. The roads were narrow, and cars flowed ceaselessly, with tourists packed shoulder to shoulder. Shops lined both sides of the street—shawl stores, tea shops, and silver jewelry stores, all filled with an array of goods that dazzled the eye. I must point out that these products were mainly traditional and handcrafted items; modern or fashionable products were hard to find. Since cars constantly weaved through the streets, pedestrians were forced to the edges of the road. Drivers sped by but managed to avoid hitting anyone, a testament to their impressive driving skills. I thought to myself, in China, streets like these would have been turned into pedestrian zones, where no cars were allowed.
We didn’t stay long in Nepal—two days for the conference and two days for sightseeing, a total of four days. The friendliness of the Nepalese people left a deep impression on me. No matter where we were or whom we met, they would always greet us with a gentle smile, placing their hands together in front of their chest, slightly bowing their head, and softly saying “Namaste.” This reminded me of the description of Kapilavastu in Xuanzang’s *Great Tang Records on the Western Regions*: “The climate is mild, and the customs are harmonious.” Kapilavastu is the Sanskrit name for what is historically known as Nepal. Even today, the Nepalese people’s customs remain as gentle and kind as ever.
If friendliness is Nepal’s “national calling card,” then optimism is one of Nepal’s “national characteristics.” No matter where we were or whom we met, their eyes all shone brightly, as if stars had fallen into their eyes. This was especially true for the young people; regardless of their jobs, positions, or social status, their eyes gleamed with even more vibrant, larger, and brighter sparks.
In contrast, Chinese young people face a multitude of pressures—academic pressure, employment pressure, housing pressure, work pressure, marriage pressure, survival pressure… After more than forty years of rapid development following China’s reform and opening-up, the economy has significantly slowed, social problems have become increasingly complex, and uncertainty about the future has grown. This has led to a widespread sense of anxiety among Chinese youth, with pessimism on the rise. In a sense, Nepal serves as a mirror, reflecting both China’s strengths and its shortcomings. When comparing young people in China and Nepal, Chinese youth enjoy far more convenience and material comforts, while Nepalese youth have a much greater sense of happiness and joy.
Mencius, revered by Confucians as the “Second Sage,” once said, “Among the things that are part of people, none is better than the eyes. The eyes cannot hide one’s evil. When the heart is upright, the eyes are clear; when the heart is not upright, the eyes are dull.” Leonardo da Vinci, the Italian Renaissance painter, said, “The eyes are the window to the soul.” They are expressing essentially the same idea. German philosopher Nietzsche said, “When your soul becomes tranquil, peaceful, and joyful, your eyes will have a depth, clarity, purity, and innocence…” The brightness in the eyes of Nepalese people truly comes from the brilliance of their souls.
Nepal can be considered a holy land of religion, being the birthplace of Buddha Shakyamuni and having once established Hinduism as the state religion. Here, towering stupas and numerous temples abound; there are more gods than people and more temples than houses. Religion is an inseparable part of Nepalese life and a rather important one. It might be said that belief is their way of life—choosing a belief is akin to choosing a way of life. In Nepal, Hindus and Buddhists coexist peacefully, as do Muslims and Christians. It is a harmonious land, free of religious conflict.
In contrast, China has not produced a true indigenous religion. Unlike transcendence-oriented cultures, China’s culture is this-worldly. Dominated by Confucianism, it focuses on the present world and disregards the afterlife, emphasizing humanity but lacking divinity. The *Analects* states: “If you do not yet understand life, how can you understand death?” (*The Analects: Advanced Chapter*), and “The Master did not speak of wonders, force, disorder, or spirits” (*The Analects: Shu Er*). Although Taoism believes that after death, one goes to the underworld and becomes a ghost, Chinese people do not arrange their lives to live better as ghosts after death. In transcendence-oriented cultures, however, the state of life after death is the ultimate destination of life, and the purpose of living now is to live better in the afterlife.
In modern Chinese thought, various “substitute religions” have been proposed. Chen Duxiu, Feng Youlan, Liang Shuming, and Cai Yuanpei each advocated solutions involving science, philosophy, ethics, and aesthetic education, respectively. Cai Yuanpei’s proposal of “aesthetic education as a substitute for religion” had the greatest influence. Religion is a vast concept, while aesthetic education is relatively limited, though beauty is inherent in all of nature and history. However, these are not equivalent concepts and cannot replace each other. The facts have proven that using aesthetic education to replace religion does not work. I, daring to be presumptuous, propose an alternative of “using literature to replace religion.” The most essential commonality between literature and religion lies in the transcendence of the human spirit and concern for humanity’s ultimate fate. Of course, the kind of literature that could replace religion is not the literature we have today; it would require a grand “literary revolution.”
In today’s world, materialism, consumerism, and technicism are rampant, corroding people’s hearts and becoming a chronic poison to human happiness. In contrast, the optimism and simplicity of the Nepalese offer a highly effective antidote. As I thought this, my earlier complaints about Nepal’s infrastructure and economic development completely dissipated.
As long as there is light in the eyes, there will be hope in the heart, whether for individuals or nations, whether for the present or the future. Here, I deeply bless Nepal and her people! (*The author is a Chinese writer*)」
