In the bustling heart of Kathmandu, amid the vibrant celebrations of Dashain—the most significant Hindu festival in Nepal—a two-year-old girl named Aryatara Shakya was carried from her family home to a temple palace. Her journey marked not just a change of address, but a transformation of identity: Aryatara was proclaimed Nepal’s newest Kumari, the revered “living goddess.”
For Aryatara’s family, the moment was nothing short of extraordinary. “She was just my daughter yesterday, but today she is a goddess,” her father, Ananta Shakya, told The Associated Press. He recalled how his wife, during pregnancy, dreamed that their child was a goddess, fueling their belief that Aryatara was destined for something special. Now, Aryatara steps into a role steeped in centuries of tradition, mystery, and—more recently—controversy.
The Kumari tradition, which has fascinated observers both within Nepal and around the world, stretches back over 300 years. According to The Week, the Kumari is considered the embodiment of divine female energy, venerated by both Hindus and Buddhists, particularly the Newari Buddhist community indigenous to the Kathmandu valley. Selection is rigorous: girls are chosen from the Shakya clan, typically between the ages of two and four, and must meet strict physical criteria, including “unblemished skin, hair, eyes and teeth.”
When a new Kumari is chosen, the induction ceremony is shrouded in secrecy. As the ABC noted, “no one really knows what happens on the induction day—not even the Kumari herself, being too young to remember.” Aryatara, dressed in resplendent red with a symbolic “third eye” painted on her forehead, was installed in the Kumari Ghar, or temple palace, where she will now live a life unlike any other child her age.
During major festivals, the Kumari is paraded through the city on a chariot pulled by devotees, an awe-inspiring sight that draws crowds of the faithful and the curious alike. But behind the pomp and reverence lies a life of seclusion. The girls spend most of their childhood within the temple walls, rarely venturing outside. In fact, tradition dictates that the Kumari’s feet must not touch the ground beyond the temple—a rule that further isolates her from the world she is believed to protect.
Former Kumaris have described the experience as both an honor and a challenge. Preeti Shakya, who served as Kumari for eight years before returning to ordinary life at age 11, shared her memories with The Week. “I remember watching TV and seeing modern dresses and I really wanted to wear them,” she said. Her family was allowed to visit only once a week, and her social circle was largely limited to the caretakers’ families. During her reign, Preeti blessed Nepal’s king seven times and the prime minister once. “They say they feel some kind of fire, a positive energy around me. The people praying to me have actually been blessed, but I don’t feel anything.”
Yet, the transition from goddess to mortal is rarely smooth. The tradition holds that a Kumari’s divinity ends with puberty, at which point she is replaced and must reintegrate into society. This abrupt shift can be jarring. Former Kumari Rashmila Shakya recounted her struggles in her 1990s memoir, From Goddess to Mortal, describing the lack of education and the difficulty of adjusting to normal life. As DW reported, many former Kumaris face similar challenges, having spent their formative years isolated from their peers and the outside world.
Recognizing these issues, the Nepali government has taken steps to support both serving and former Kumaris. Education is now mandatory for Kumaris, and a monthly pension of about $165—slightly above the national minimum wage—is provided to those who have left the role. While these measures represent progress, they cannot erase the weight of centuries-old beliefs and social stigmas. According to The Guardian, Nepalese folklore warns that men who marry a former Kumari will “suffer premature death,” a superstition that discourages such unions and adds another layer of difficulty for those seeking to build a life beyond the temple.
As Aryatara Shakya begins her tenure as Kumari, she replaces 11-year-old Trishna Shakya, who held the role since 2017, according to an October 5, 2025 report by The Times of India. The handover is both a continuation of a cherished tradition and a reminder of its inherent complexities. The Kumari’s presence is believed to bring blessings and protection to Nepal, and her image—dressed in red, silent and serene—remains a powerful symbol for many. But as the world changes, so too do the questions surrounding her place in modern society.
Criticism of the Kumari tradition has mounted in recent decades, particularly from human rights advocates. Sapana Pradhan-Malla, one of Nepal’s leading human rights lawyers, has spoken out about the practice. “The Kumari is forced to give up her childhood,” she argued. “She has to be a goddess instead. Her rights are being violated.” Nepal is a signatory to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, which explicitly prohibits the exploitation of children in the name of culture. This international commitment has fueled calls for further reform and greater protection for the young girls at the heart of the Kumari tradition.
For many in Nepal, the Kumari remains a vital link to the country’s spiritual heritage. The tradition’s supporters argue that it is a unique expression of faith and identity, deserving of preservation. They point to evolving practices—such as improved education and financial support—as evidence that the institution can adapt without losing its essence. Detractors, however, question whether any tradition that isolates children and restricts their rights can be justified, no matter how revered its origins.
As Nepal’s newest Kumari, Aryatara Shakya finds herself at the intersection of faith, history, and modernity. Her story, like those of the Kumaris before her, raises profound questions about the balance between honoring tradition and safeguarding the rights of the most vulnerable. The world, as always, will be watching—hoping that the blessings of the living goddess are matched by the compassion and wisdom of those who revere her.
