The premises of the Pashupatinath Temple had never been as enchanting as it was that day. Flower sellers had already spread their stalls with offerings and oblations that were been neatly packed into traditional leaf plates. They were constantly inviting each visitor to take one before heading into the temple. The ringing of bells, chanting of devotees and bustle of the market, all filled the morning with a palpably religious feeling. Amid these vibrant scenes, a guide was leading a group of tourists towards the banks of the Bagmati River. His sun-tanned face had sharp, peircing eyes. His firm gait and gestures seemed assured, as he addressed his guests in the most polite of tones.