Skip to main content

Author: Pradeep Rai

Pradeep Rai is a writer and researcher studying the ethnic culture and history of the Himalayan Tribes.

The Jirels: Origins and Beliefs

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Jirel Culture. 2 Comments on The Jirels: Origins and Beliefs

The origins of the Jirel people are shrouded in mystery, inviting much speculation and complex theories about their beginnings. These theories often draw on linguistic similarities, genetic markers, and historical records that hint at possible connections with other Himalayan communities. It is therefore unsurprising that Dor Bahadur Bista, in his esteemed work “People of Nepal,” reflects on this obscurity, stating, ” Not much is really known of their origins. Some believe that they are offshoots of the Magars, others that they came from Simraungarh in the eastern Terai.” Today, the Jirels are recognized as the natives of Jiri, and they exemplify the remarkable diversity of the Himalayan region amidst modernization. According to the National population and housing census conducted by the Government of Nepal, the Jirel population numbers 6,031, making up only 0.02% of the country’s total inhabitants.

The Jirels, an Eastern Himalayan tribe, speak a unique Tibeto-Burman language bearing strong resemblances to Sherpa and Sunuwar Koit languages. The term “Jirel” finds its roots in Nepali etymology. The community originally referred to themselves as “Jirwa” or “Jirba” before the term “Jirel” became more prevalent among the Nepali populace. According to Jirel folklore, the name of the place Jiri is derived from the Jirels who settled there. The name Jiri originates from “Jie-eri,” which translates to “scary dense forest.”

Jirel oral traditions offer several conflicting accounts of their ethnogenesis. One tradition suggests that the Jirels originated from Simraungarh in the eastern Terai (Bista 1980:69). In the 14th century, Muslim invaders destroyed Simraungarh, forcing its Hindu ruling families and other survivors to become refugees (Miller 1997). After enduring many hardships in the Terai, they eventually fled to Dolakha. This narrative is particularly significant because several Jirel clans worship deities believed to reside in Simraungarh. During religious ceremonies, the Jirel priest, or Shaman known as the Phombo, summons the clan god and the spirits of clan ancestors from their original homeland, Simraungarh, to manifest in the shrine.

Another account claims that the Kirati ancestors migrated to Jiri from Simraungarh in the Terai. However, Tahal Bahadur Jirel completely rejects this idea due to linguistic evidence. While the Jirel language belongs to the Tibeto-Burmese family, it shares about 65% similarity with Sherpa and Tibetan. In fact, it shows greater similarity to the languages of the Solukhumbu and Helambu Sherpas, as well as Tibetan and Tamang languages.

A third narrative posits that the Jirels are descendants of an ancestor born from the union of a Sunuwar (Koit) man and a Sherpa woman, approximately 8 to 10 generations ago. Additionally, the blending of Jirel heritage is evident in their cultural and linguistic characteristics. They speak a distinct language called Jirel, which belongs to the Tibeto-Burman language group and shares numerous similarities with the Sherpa language. Genetic studies conducted by Sarah Williams-Blangero at Case Western Reserve University, Ohio, confirm this theory.

The Jirels are organized into 23 distinct clans, consisting of 12 major clans and 11 subclans. Mirroring the Kirati system of clan hierarchy, these subclans emerged as a result of breaches in exogamy rules. They main clans are Thungba, Deulinga, Thabo, Deppa, Sherba, Palpali, Thurbido, Chyaba, Meyokpa, Jupule, and Gara Samba. The sub-clans are Chawe Thungba, Chawe Sherpa, Chawe Jupule/Jupude, Thurbido, Chawe Thurbido, Kyambole, Tumpule, Phalbo, Garchiga, Rarenge, Jaisi, Khulal, Gharti, Rai, Chawe Thabo, Mukhiya, and Thapa.

Though the Jirels embrace Buddhism today, complete with their own monks and a sacred Gumba (monastery), they steadfastly preserve their ancient shamanic traditions. The heart of their spiritual life beats in the hands of a Phombo, a revered Jirel shaman, who performs all healing rituals and clan worship. This Phombo is believed to have the extraordinary ability to incarnate the spirits of ancestors and divine entities. Central to the Jirel worldview are the potent forces of spirit possession, ancestral veneration, and the influence of spirit forces. Alongside these practices, the Jirels honor a select pantheon of deities, with each clan venerating its own unique God (Kuldevta). Clan worship is still performed by the Phombo whereas birth rituals and rites of passage are observed according to Buddhist traditions.

The Jirels practice a polytheistic belief system, venerating multiple deities alongside their specific clan-based tutelary gods. Each clan maintains distinct ritual relationships with various deities, such as Lha, Chen, Chyomu, and Kalincho (Nangy Lha), which are worshipped independently by different clans. This reflects the intricate interconnection between Jirel cosmology and their kinship structures, where religious practices are closely tied to clan identity and ancestral veneration.

Certain Jirel clans maintain dedicated altars for the veneration of Naya, a local clan deity. These altars house a sacred box where offerings such as coins, cloth, rice, and chicken eggs are deposited. At harvest time, ritual offerings are made to Naya, with prayers for prosperity, the well-being of children, and the health of livestock. In addition to Naya worship, the Jirels also venerate Loo, a snake deity regarded as the protector of crops. As snakes naturally deter rodents, offerings are made to Loo during the harvest, symbolizing the deity’s protective role over agricultural abundance. Anthropologist H. Sidky highlights the syncretic nature of Jirel religious practices, noting their “remarkable heterodoxy” in adopting elements from Buddhism, Hinduism, and local traditions. This blending of beliefs demonstrates the Jirels’ pragmatic approach, seamlessly incorporating diverse religious concepts without emphasizing contradictions between them

Jirel traditional ceremonial ways are ancient. They may have evolved and will continue to adapt and change to new realities. While core meanings remain relatively intact, methodologies are fluid and personal. Jirel people embody a dynamic synthesis of cultural and religious practices, reflecting their complex history and diverse origins. Through their clan-based deities, shamanic traditions, and syncretic religious practices, the Jirels have retained a distinctive cultural and spiritual landscape. As they continue to navigate modernization, their rituals, belief systems, and community structure illustrate the ongoing interplay between tradition and adaptation, ensuring their heritage remains both resilient and fluid.

The Wind and the Owl

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Folk Tales. No Comments on The Wind and the Owl

Once, an owl sat on the branch of a tree. Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind shook the entire branch. The owl, irritated, addressed the wind, “Why do you shake the branch? Do you dare try to dislodge me?”

The wind responded, “If I truly wanted to shake you, I would have done so. I can blow away everything—strong, tall, and mighty. I can reshape the earth with my fury. You are but a small owl. Wouldn’t a mere breeze suffice to blow you away?”

The obstinate owl scoffed at the wind and said, “You are more arrogant than capable. If I nestled in a small hole in the ground, you wouldn’t even be able to touch me.”

Upon hearing this, the wind roared with immense fury. The sky darkened ominously, and thick clouds swirled as the wind gathered its full strength. The owl, unperturbed, descended from the branch and nestled into a small hole in the ground. The wind howled fiercely, uprooting plants and trees, its force growing more terrifying by the second. It transformed into a raging typhoon, demolishing houses and tearing hills apart. The devastation it caused was vast, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Yet, despite all its might and fury, the wind could not budge the resolute owl from its safe haven.

Embarrassed by its defeat, the wind withdrew and concealed itself from the world.

Now the world lay still, bereft of the wind’s gentle breath, a great suffering fell upon all living things. Humans, animals, birds, and plants began to wither and perish. The once lush forests and fertile fields turned desolate, and it seemed as though life itself would soon fade away. Witnessing this dire calamity, Paruhang, the King of the skies, descended from his heavenly abode. Upon the earth, he whistled a tune, summoning the wind from its hidden slumber.

When the wind arrived, Paruhang addressed it, saying, “In the time when nature shaped the Owl, it granted this creature the gift of sight in the darkness, making it blind by the day. To preserve balance, the Owl was also blessed with the ability to withstand your mighty gusts and remain untouched by the rain. And thus, this is why you have never been able to sweep the Owl away.”

Paruhang continued, “O Wind, it is your sacred duty to provide sustenance to the earth. Without your breath, all living things would perish. Remember, your power is immense, but it is meant to nurture, not to be wielded with arrogance. Stay humble, for without you, life itself would wither away.”

From that day forth, it is said, the wind has blown eternally around the globe, offering comfort to all in need. Even today, in the Himalayan region, weary travelers and laborers rest beneath trees, whistle as Paruhang once did, and summon the wind to grant them relief.

Exploring the World of Thangmi people

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Thami Culture. No Comments on Exploring the World of Thangmi people

Comprehensive understanding of the social history and culture of the Thami people remains sparse and fragmented. For generations, the Thami have primarily preserved and transmitted their cultural heritage through oral traditions, passing down stories, myths, and knowledge from one generation to the next. This reliance on oral discourse has meant that much of their historical and cultural narrative is embedded in the spoken word, requiring a meticulous and critical approach to studying these oral traditions. At a glance, Thami culture may seem complex and unconceivable. However, despite the challenges, a wealth of knowledge can be gleaned from their rich culture, intricate traditions, and unique language.

The Thangmi, also known as Thami, represent a unique ethnic group within the Tibetan-Burmese linguistic family. In their everyday interactions, the Thangmi refer to their language as Thangmi Kham or Thangmi Wakhe, and themselves as Thangmi. However, in elevated ritual contexts, some shamans use the term Thani. The name Thangmi has two potential etymologies in the Tibetan language. One interpretation is “than-mi,” signifying “people of the pasture lands,” while the other is “mthah-mi,” meaning “barbarians of the borders.” Anthropologists, such as J. Casper Miller and Alexander MacDonald, regard the latter explanation as more plausible. The Nepali designation for this group is ‘Thami’, an external ethnolinguistic perspective that has become prevalent today.

Two primary oral traditions elucidate the origins and migratory history of the Thangmi. The first posits that the Thangmi are descendants of the Kirati rulers who once held sway over Kathmandu until their displacement by the Lichhavi rulers. Following the fall of the Kirati, a faction journeyed through Sanga, and Benighat, ultimately settling in Kira Chhap around the Dolakha region. This narrative, however, is less substantiated by other oral traditions.

A more widely accepted narrative among the Thangmi traces their lineage to Yappati Chhuku/Ya’apa and Sunari Aama/Aaji. According to this myth, the Thangmi migrated along the Tamakoshi River from Simangadh and Kumangadh in the Sindhuli and Bara districts, eventually settling near Nagdah in Dolakha. After the decline of Kirati rule in Nepal, they dispersed, following various rivers towards eastern Nepal. The migration patterns of different Kirati groups led to the formation of distinct ethnic identities: those following the Tamor River became Limbus, those along the Arun became Rai/Khambu, the Dudhkoshi travelers became Sunuwar, the Sunkoshi followers became Hayu, and those tracing the Tamakoshi became Thangmi. This particular narrative details seven primary male and female clans, as well as five additional clans who were the descendants of Ya’apa and Sunari Ama.

Beyond Nepal’s borders, they also reside in Sikkim and Darjeeling, India, indicating a transnational presence influenced by historical migration patterns and contemporary socio-economic dynamics.

Each facet of Thami life, from their ceremonial practices to their everyday customs, holds clues that, when pieced together, form a montage of their historical and social evolution. Thangmi marriage practices are distinctive and complex, involving bride purchase, bride service, and dowry. Traditionally, marriages are arranged through mutual agreement between the parents of prospective brides and grooms, though bride capture and elopement were also common in the past. When a boy reaches adolescence, his father and two marriage brokers (Lamis) visit the girl’s family with a vessel of rice beer to propose marriage. If accepted, the girl’s relatives consume the beer and request a liter of wine from the boy’s family, solidifying the agreement and preventing either party from marrying elsewhere. Formal ceremonies may follow later, based on mutual agreement and auspicious timing.

The Thangmi strictly prohibit cross-cousin marriages, a practice common among other ethnic groups like the Gurung. Clan exogamy is mandated, requiring individuals to marry outside their own clan but within the Thangmi group, thereby maintaining internal social cohesion and external marital alliances. This highlights the importance of clan affiliation in Thami society. Initially, a child’s clan affiliation is based on descent from either the mother or father, depending on the child’s gender, and becomes socially significant at the time of marriage. Traditionally, individuals inherit their clan name from their same-sex parent. However, this practice has evolved, and many women now adopt their husband’s or father’s clan names.

The Thangmi social structure is organized into clans, moieties, and lineages, reflecting a complex kinship system. The male clan names are Akal Akyangmi, Kyangpole Akyangmi, Areng Akyangmi, Dumla Akyangmi, Danguri Akyangmi, Mosanthali Akyangmi, and Jaidhane Akyangmi. The female clan names include Budati, Yante Siri Siri, Calta Siri, Alta Siri, Khasa Siri, Bampa Siri, and Khatu Siri.

The Thangmi follow a syncretic form of shamanism influenced by Hinduism. Their spiritual practices are deeply rooted in animism and the worship of natural deities, with shamans playing a central role in mediating between the physical and spiritual realms. Thangmi rituals, which are primarily centered around life cycle events rather than a more defined system of deity worship, employ the services of the shaman, known as the ‘Guru.’ The Guru does not necessarily assume the role of a “Jhankri” (faith healer). Thangmi Gurus, who are the primary officiants during rituals, do not typically act as healers. Many Thangmi villages do have a mainstream faith-healing shaman, but the Guru who performs various rituals, including marriages and rites of passage, holds a separate, higher-status category.

The Thangmi’s religious life is characterized by a rich tapestry of rituals and ceremonies that blend shamanic traditions with Hindu elements. This syncretism is evident in their festivals, healing practices, and life-cycle rituals, reflecting a dynamic interplay between indigenous beliefs and external religious influences such as the ritual of Bhume. Bhume is an animistic earth worshipping practice, and Thangmi people maintain a Bhume shrine close to their settlements. They are usually placed around rocks or below large trees. Such shrines also have a large number of bells and Tridents around them, which hint at the influence of Hinduism over their ancient traditions. But these are usually open-air structures whose sacred status derives from the land upon which they stand, rather than any structural features of the temple itself.

The Thangmi community presents a fascinating study of cultural resilience and adaptation. Their unique language, intricate social structure, and syncretic religious practices highlight the richness of their cultural heritage. Despite external pressures and internal transformations, the Thangmi have maintained a distinct identity, rooted in their historical narratives, oral traditions, folklore, and sustained through their enduring traditions.

The Tempest of Unknowing

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Folk Tales. No Comments on The Tempest of Unknowing

Long, long ago there lived four great mystics in a Newari kingdom. It was an era of intellect, brilliance, and a thirst for knowledge. Society flourished, transforming the kingdom into a beacon of enlightenment, tranquility, and prosperity. Among the citizens of the realm, these four mystics stood out as epitomes of wisdom and intellect, unrivaled in their mastery of various subjects. They could understand the past and present, and make predictions of the future. Their predictions were always unfailingly accurate, earning them profound respect even from the King.

Periodically, the wise men convened to discuss on a range of topics, including their calculations to forecast future events. Almost invariably, their discussions concluded in a consensus, upon which they promptly alerted both the citizens and the King to undertake necessary measures. Through this method, the wise men consistently succeeded in averting floods and famines within the kingdom.

On a particular summer day, the four intelligent mystics jointly forecasted an imminent peril: a giant storm approaching the kingdom. However, this tempest was unlike any other, originating from the forbidden depths of the mountain caverns, where wicked spirits resided. Its fierce winds threatened to engulf the entire realm, driving its inhabitants to madness. After the tempest’s fury waned, the madness would give way to a pervasive state of stupidity and ignorance.

They proceeded to inform the populace, instilling terror in their hearts. Recognizing that only the King held the key to resolving this calamity, they sought an audience with him.

“This is a serious dilemma,” remarked the King. “What course of action do you propose?”

“We could initiate city evacuations,” suggested one wise man.

“That’s impossible,” countered the King. “Undertaking such a massive task is beyond our means. We lack the necessary resources.”

“Your Majesty, if evacuation is not possible, then our only recourse is to excavate tunnels and shelter all citizens underground until the storm abates,” implored the wise men.

“Even if it were feasible to conceal a few individuals, we cannot possibly shelter the entire population underground,” the King reasoned.

Despite the persistent pleas of the wise men, the King remained dismissive. “Perhaps the wind will not cause significant damage,” he reassured them.

Undeterred, the wise men embarked on a campaign throughout the city and villages, urging residents to excavate shelters in the earth. However, their appeals fell on deaf ears.

In the end, the four mystics resolved to excavate shelters solely for themselves and retreat underground until the passing of the storm.

As foretold, the stirring sounds of powerful winds descended from the mountain slopes, swiftly shrouding the once-blue sky in a veil of darkness. Closer and closer approached the tempest, while the citizens stood out in the open, anticipating the storm’s passage. Meanwhile, only the four wise men remained entrenched deep within the earth’s depths.

After the wind abated in a matter of days, the four men emerged from their subterranean refuge. To their dismay, they beheld a kingdom plunged into madness. Citizens had abandoned their duties and dwellings, filling the streets with frenzied dancing. As the men traversed through streets, markets, temples, and palaces, they encountered only madness-stricken individuals lost in ecstatic dances. Amidst this chaos, only the four men remained sane and normal.

Upon arriving at the city’s central square, they were met with jeers from the populace: “Lunatics! Lunatics!”

Everywhere they journeyed, they were approached with taunts of “Crazy people! Lunatics! Mad men!” Unable to endure the relentless contempt, the four wise men made the difficult decision to depart the kingdom forever.

kirat rai culture

Cham – Ritualistic songs of the Kirati Khambu Rai people

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Khambu Culture. No Comments on Cham – Ritualistic songs of the Kirati Khambu Rai people

Within the social fabric of the Kirati Khambu Rai people, music has metamorphosed into a space for cultural discourse. It engages both performers and audiences, facilitating discussions about their heritage and personal encounters. It is also a part of their elaborate rituals. In addition to language, musical and religious behaviors exhibit a notable universality among modern humans. It is no different among the Khambu Rai people, where ritual songs seem to function as a catalyst for molding social landscapes, with the power to harmonize emotions, define social ties, conduct rites, and cultivate collective identities. As a result, it has emerged not just as an integral part of Kirat Khambu Rai culture and rituals but as a platform for recognizing and reconciling identities, driven by its multifarious nature.

A song is called Cham, which is an indispensable component of the Mundhum (traditions, rituals, and oral narrative of the Kirati Khambu Rai people), deeply intertwined with the Khambu way of life. Khambus actively engage in musical pursuits within their households, at marketplaces, and particularly during social gatherings, with a heightened presence during various rituals. Beyond mere entertainment, music assumes a central role in their social, religious, and ceremonial spheres. It serves several purposes, encompassing the realms of healing, assisting in daily chores, bolstering agricultural endeavors, accompanying essential life events such as weddings and funerals, and infusing vibrancy into festivals. For the Khambu Rai community, music isn’t merely an artistic medium but a profound means of conveying love and emotions. Consequently, ritual songs, deeply rooted in the Mundhum, constitute an integral facet of the Kirat Rai cultural narrative.

At the forefront of ritual songs is the Khambu Shamanic incantation. Also referred to as Rungpu Rishiwa or Rishiwa Bagbuipa, this segment of the Mundhum text is sung by various categories of Shamans, including Mangpa, Nakchhong, Nachhong, and Nokso. Typically, they recite the Mundhum while accompanied by the sounds of drums, cymbals, or the resonant tones of the clanging of brass plates. During this ritual, they may also enter into a trance-like state, establishing a profound connection with divine spirits on a spiritual plane. Although the Mundhum includes Boptomi Selemi, a sequence of ritual oratory recited by a Dowa or the family’s leader during ceremonies, it typically lacks any musical tune or melody. Rishiwa, however, resonates with a captivating tune, characterized by a distinct melodic quality while maintaining consistent rhythmic stability.

Pitch and intonation play essential roles in Khambu Rai ceremonial Shamanic chants. The music inherent to the Mundum language possesses a unique and uncommon essence. Diverging sharply from contemporary musical genres, it is a form of traditional tribal music exclusively employed within the context of Mundum rituals. While Shamanic songs inherently contain melody, it is the ritual language utilized in Mundhum songs that emphasizes particular melodic patterns. One can notice that the Mundum ritual language exhibits innate rhythmic, melodious, and poetic attributes, predominantly attributed to its inherent structural characteristics and the organization of rhyming binomials within it. Furthermore, the Khambu ritual speech is itself phonetically melodic in nature. For instance,

“Dongwanga, dongdawa, dongwanga dongdawa khida,
Sayachoksa, Wayaloksa banthen yetsa,
Nammang, Naamang, Chhinmang, Chhinmang lisa..”

“As the seasons change from winter to spring, spring to winter,
It is these changing seasons that give,
So all sentient beings continuously live..”

The comprehensive essence of Rishiwa, the potent vocals of the Shaman, and the resonating clangs are believed to possess the ability to embrace the energies of the unseen realm within the spiritual domain. In fact, the distinction between individuals and their environment, particularly among those engaged in the ceremony, seems to dissolve during rituals. These songs become defining features of a ritual. It becomes evident that Khambu ritual music serves to fulfill several crucial purposes: it orchestrates the ceremony, facilitates the reunion of family members, and revitalizes the essential life force (Saya) and physical aspects of reality.

Undoubtedly, the Kirat Khambu Rai community possesses unique indigenous frameworks to navigate metaphysical and epistemological facets of their culture and religion. Despite the encroachment of modernity, these systems have endured, primarily transmitted through oral traditions. These systems are embedded within the 29 Rai languages, encompassing both specialized and everyday dialects. In addition to ritualistic songs found in specialized linguistic forms, there are other genres designed to preserve the cultural narrative of indigenous knowledge systems, such as the Hopmacham.

Hopmacham is not classified as a shamanic genre, yet it holds a divine significance and is performed during specific rituals. The term “Hopmacham” is derived from “Hopma,” which translates to “to drink,” and “Cham,” which means “song.” However, it’s important to note that it doesn’t imply that it’s sung when someone is inebriated. While the consumption of Millet Beer (Charima Wasim) is a fundamental aspect of Khambu rituals, Hopmacham is a song that has the ability to evoke a sense of intoxication through its inherent power.

Anthropologist Martin Gaenszle writes, “The Hopmacham is not a shamanic genre, and it is not sung for the purpose of healing. Yet it is regarded as possessing a special kind of efficacy, a kind of magic. It is commonly explained, for example, that it can bring rain in the case of drought, it can bring life to dead trees, it can charm animals and trees, it can even light fire, and above all, it can evoke intense emotions, both sadness, and happiness, in the listeners. But at the same time, it is seen as dangerous for the performer because, if not sung properly, with adequate competence, the singer can become ill – or even die.”

Hopmacham is sung during events that evoke a profound connection with deceased ancestors. It means that in various Khambu Rai rituals where the ancestral spirits are invoked, this song serves as a medium that links ordinary individuals without any shamanic abilities to their ancestors. Traditionally, Hopmacham is performed after Sakela festivities and also at wedding ceremonies.  Hopmacham is fundamentally the melody of nature, resonating in harmony with the natural frequencies of the universe. It is believed to be comprehensible to all living creatures, including plants and flowers.

 In Kirati Rai culture, music serves as the vital link between the spirit realm and the community. The primary purpose of musical performances is typically rooted in spirituality. Shamans employ music as a method of conveying guidance for healing or addressing collective crises, benefiting both individuals and the community. However, music also plays a significant role in expressing the emotions and, most significantly, the beliefs of the Kirati Khambu Rai people. It strongly influences their cultural customs. Beyond its customary ritualistic function, music holds an essential place in Khambu Rai social life. The following are some of the various musical genres that are an integral part of the Khambu community.

Hiya Cham: Festive Singing
This particular song, known as “Hiya Cham,” is typically performed during wedding ceremonies. Those accompanying the bride and groom sing this song, symbolically representing the couple.

Saima Cham: Joyous Duet
“Saima Cham” features a male and a female taking turns singing. The lyrics may revolve around themes of love, and the overall tone can carry flirtatious undertones. This song is commonly sung during festive occasions, especially during the spring and fall festivals of Sakela.

Bukundi Cham: Forest Resonance
“Bukundi Cham” differs from traditional Cham songs, as it involves shouting in a musical manner. When Khambus are out collecting firewood or cutting grass in the forest, they may wander off, leaving their friends behind. After a while, as one takes a break, they may realize they are alone. To ensure their friends are nearby and to alleviate any fear, they shout out a specific song. If a friend hears the call, they continue with the song, setting off a relay that serves to confirm their presence and dispel any sense of isolation.

Musical Instruments (Kane)
The following are the everyday instruments that the Khambus use for the accompaniment of songs or a worship ritual:

Chhamchong Kane – Large Drum beaten by sticks
Sumni Kane – Cymbals
Chhenbi Kane – Tossing of Coins for Percussion
Samba Kane (Yalambar Baaja) – Bamboo Drum
Dong Kane (Binayo) – Slit Bamboo Mouth Instrument
Karu Kane (Murchunga) – Jew’s Harp
Bibilima Kane – Flute
Phoppi Kane – Slit Bamboo Blow Instrument
Sili Kane – Percussion Instrument used during Sili Dance
Sumbak Kane –Leaf
Suipasang Kane –Whistle
Pung Kane – Buffalo Horn
Chhowa Kane – Pan Flute

Hopmacham of the Kirati Puma Rai sub-tribe

Bheja –Social Cluster of the Magars

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Magar Culture. No Comments on Bheja –Social Cluster of the Magars

Social cluster, based on tribal affinity or kinship or, occasionally, on geographical contiguity, ensures the continued observance of social and religious customs and ceremonies within the community. Through the passage of countless centuries, the Himalayan tribes have weathered the ages, weaving intricate social clusters that exist in harmony with the tapestry of their cultural traditions. These clusters, like the Bheja system of the Magars, have played a significant role in the preservation of the tangible and intangible aspects of Magar culture. Bheja, a communal congregational group, holds the responsibility of overseeing various functions within the tribe. Despite being of independently Magar origin, it assumes the religious operations of the Guthi of the Newars, the economic functions of Dhikuri of the Thakalis, and the Kipat communal land tenure system of the Kiratis. The origin of the word Bheja comes from ‘bhai’ and ‘jaa’, meaning ‘brother’ and ‘descendant’ in the Magar language, and is a significant facet of traditional Magar culture.

Much like the norm within traditional scenarios, social clusters inherently involve a temporary relinquishment of personal rights to the collective, standing in stark contrast to the established norms of ordinary times. This encompasses economic behaviors, ritualistic choices, communal resource sharing, and even the inversion of societal roles. Such social clusters are vital in rural areas in keeping with social, economic, and cultural traditions. In the case of Bheja, while it is considered neither voluntary nor forced, it exists as a reminder of the connection between indigenous peoples to their lands and the traditions attached to it. It is a part of the customs of communal bonding that have existed for hundreds of years, preceding the creation of proper tribal groups, taking advantage of different climates, and harvesting periods, and allowing communities to perform cultural rites and participate in social interactions with other groups. A single community cluster can contain multiple Bhejas, and each Bheja may span across multiple clusters. The size of a Bheja can vary depending on the size of the cluster and any geographical or other differences. Every household within the cluster is expected to be a member of the Bheja, without any specific criteria.

Originally, Bheja was a camp or settlement of related families under a headman/chief and functioned in the past as a social and political unit. A strong sense of family that functions horizontally as well as vertically is a characteristic of the Magar community. Today, an elderly and respected male member of the community serves as the chief or Mukhiya. In its most general sense, Bheja consists of all those relatively stable features of a social system, which an acting unit would be prudent to take into account if it wishes to make rational decisions regarding the community as a single entity.  Even though the Mukhiya assumes the role of chairing meetings and holds a vital position in decision-making, their authority does not vary significantly from that of other members. It is expected that a Mukhiya chair all meetings, contribute suggestions, and occasionally delegate specific tasks to fellow members. However, he does not enjoy exceptional privileges.

Certain Bhejas have the power to include individuals who are not Magars within the same or neighbouring cluster. However, their participation within the Bheja is considerably restricted compared to that of the Magars. Consequently, invited members are unable to hold positions such as Mukhiya or Wappa/Bhusal (ritual priest of officiant). While social stratification typically implies the establishment of hierarchical positions within a society, distinguishing between superior and inferior ranks, the Magar culture places greater emphasis on Magar kinship while also embracing inclusivity within a contemporary multicultural context.

Bheja as a religious gathering

Bheja also arranges group worship ceremonies to venerate indigenous gods and ancestral spirits, encompassing an annual schedule of five distinct worship rituals.

During the final month of each year, a special event known as Susupak Bheja takes place, resembling a collective gathering for the entire community. Every household considers this occasion highly significant. It is during this period that new rules and regulations are formulated, modified, or reviewed. Within the economic framework of the community, decisions are reached concerning wages, the prices of essential goods like vegetables and meat, as well as other fundamental necessities. Vital matters are deliberated upon and settled for the upcoming year, including the potential selection of a new Mukhiya if needed. As a result, this event is referred to as “riti-thiti basalne Bheja,” signifying the establishment of norms. In certain regions, it is also known as Chandi Bheja. This particular period serves as an extensive discussion platform for village responsibilities, aspirations, and guidelines. A central focus of this event involves discarding obsolete customs and traditions in favor of embracing new ones.
Nwagi Bheja is observed prior to the commencement of the sowing season. During this period, the deities believed to influence a prosperous harvest are venerated. Collective worship ceremonies take place, and the community comes together to seek a favorable season, free from adversities and unforeseen natural events. Mangsire Bheja takes place in the month of Mangsir (November-December). This ritualistic observance, known as Bheja worship, is a way of honoring Thekani Mai, a revered female deity. The local community believes that Thekani Mai safeguards the villagers from illnesses. Similarly, Jethebheja involves the reverence of Firante Mai, a peripatetic divine feminine spirit. This ceremony occurs in the month of Jestha (May-June). On the other hand, Chaitebheja is a ritual performed to avert natural disasters connected to the earth, specifically focusing on soil-related calamities.

Social Functions of Bheja

Bheja consists of a wide variety of family groups, village houses, and institutional organizations that reflect community life. All decisions related to the benefit of a social group regarding religious activities, social, and agricultural celebrations are taken at the Bheja meetings.

Interestingly, these ceremonies do not necessitate designated temples or specific shrines for deities. The location for the rituals is determined by the Bheja itself. Typically, they choose hilltops in proximity to forests where activities such as timber cutting and livestock grazing are prohibited. This practice stems from the belief that naturally sacred and undisturbed places should be chosen. Consequently, the areas surrounding these sites retain their lush greenery. This aspect of their belief system has taken on a somewhat “conservationist hue,” representing a form of ecological adaptation. As part of appeasing the spirits, offerings of pigs, male buffaloes, goats, and jungle fowls are considered essential and are sacrificed during these ceremonies.

Agriculture and Bheja

Another culturally noteworthy practice within the Magar community involves a specific day when individuals abstain from engaging in activities beyond their homes. The exact date of this day varies across locations and groups, contingent on the guidance of Bheja. In the past, this day carried restrictions on the entry of outsiders into the village and the departure of villagers from it. Those who transgressed this custom would be subject to penalties. During this day, the Mukhiya offers a prayer to Bhume (the earth) through a ceremony known as Main Dhare.

While agriculture constitutes the primary occupation of the Magar people, Bheja encourages the practice of Parima, a system based on the reciprocal exchange of labor. Additionally, temporary labor collectives known as Bhaijeri come into play at times. Bheja oversees these transient labor groups, and instead of wages, they receive recompense in the form of two meals and beverages.

Bheja holds a crucial role in determining the schedule of fieldwork, guaranteeing that all households have the opportunity to efficiently accomplish their tasks in accordance with their requirements. Although Bheja’s initial purpose did not pertain to agricultural labor, it has now acquired the authority to establish and even modify labor wages. This strategy mitigates labor shortages among the Magars, especially during the most demanding phases of the farming seasons.

Across the various tribes inhabiting the Himalayan region, the social structure exhibits diversity influenced by group dynamics, objectives, and geographical placement. Tribal communities encompass a broad spectrum of family units, rural arrangements, and institutional structures that manifest in the fabric of community life. Consequently, the notion of social clusters, such as Bheja, serves as an analytical construct that amalgamates diverse forms of individual and collective conduct. Its purpose lies in uniting either an individual with a group or linking various members within a group. While contemporary society champions personal independence, within a clan system, greater emphasis is placed on shared accountability. Traditional teachings emphasize the pursuit of coexisting harmoniously with oneself, one’s family, the broader community, and even the natural world. Thus, within the framework of the Magar Bheja system, individuals are tasked with perpetuating these cultural teachings through their way of life.

Golden Deer

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Folk Tales. No Comments on Golden Deer

Long, long ago, deep in the forest of the Dolakha region, Ya’apa and Sunari Ama, the primordial father and mother of the Thami people, lived peacefully. They lived secluded lives and never mingled with the population outside the forest. Though all alone in the forest and knowing nothing of people in the villages and towns, they were always happy. 

One day a fisherman appeared at the court of the King of Dolakha. He was the official fisherman of the King himself and would bring fresh fish to court every day. 

 “I come in great distress, your majesty’,” he pleaded, “My fishing net has been destroyed.”

He displayed his fishing net that had been destroyed by small pieces of bamboo and wood chippings. 

 “This is my third net that has been destroyed this month,” he said, “someone must be living in the forest and is mischievously throwing away these wood and bamboo pieces in the river.”

Hearing the fisherman’s pleas, the King ordered his guards to search the forest. They searched for a few days but found nobody. 

 “Follow the river source and search there,” the king ordered. 

 When they followed the river to its source, they found the hut where Ya’apa was living and apprehended him. He was shackled and brought before the king. Fearing for his life, Ya ‘apa brought a wild pheasant he had just killed as an offering to pacify the king. But the king wasn’t interested in this lowly gift. Resolved to punish Ya’apa who was living in the forest without royal consent, the King wanted to impose a severe punishment. 

“You will return to your hut for now,” the King said, “but in a week, you shall come to the court to hear my judgment.”

On the day of the judgment, Ya’apa returned with a deer that he had hunted for the king. 

 The enraged King bellowed, “With this gift, you have bought yourself a few days. Go for now and return in a week to hear my judgment.”

 The third time, Ya’apa came with a mountain goat but that too wasn’t enough to appease the king. Ya’apa was sent back and the king proclaimed that he would be executed the next day. Ya’apa went home and confided about the King’s order to his wife, Sunari Ama. 

She consoled her husband and told him that she would accompany him to the king’s court the next day. The next day, they appeared before the king. Sunari Ama made pleas to the King for the release of her husband but her appeal fell on deaf ears. Although Sunari Ama had divine powers, she tried to persuade the kings with pleas and arguments but nothing seemed to work in her favor. After much weeping and bargaining, she finally declared. 

 “In exchange for my husband’s freedom, I shall give you something that you do not have in your entire kingdom.”

“What can you offer a King who already possesses everything?” roared the monarch. 

“I shall give you a Golden Deer,” proclaimed Sunari Ama. 

 The court responded with loud jeers at the words of Sunari Ama. The King laughed. At that moment Sunari Ama plucked a strand from the long tangled braids of her hair and threw it on the floor. The small strand of her hair transformed into a golden deer! The whole room gasped!

Witnessing this miracle, the King was pleased but also frightened, and he bowed before Sunari Ama and said, “Your husband is free to go, my lady. Tell me what more you want and I shall try to fulfill your wishes.”

“Give us land the size of a Buffalo skin to settle on,” said Sunari Ama. The King urged them to accept more, but they refused, demanding only that a buffalo skin be brought to show the King exactly how much land they wished. When the skin was brought to the court, Ya ‘apa trimmed the dried skin into long and thin strips, which he then laid out in the shape of a large square, a big piece of the kingdom, and requested the King to let them have a land that size, in his kingdom. 

The King, thoroughly impressed by the Thami couple, granted their request. They were allowed to settle on lands around the Sunkoshi river. 

Ya ‘apa and Sunari Ama returned to their family. Their seven sons and seven daughters settled in different parts of this land. To this day, the Thami people, descendants of Ya’apa and Sunari Ama, live in these lands. 

The Search for Scheduled Tribe Status

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Articles & Opinions. No Comments on The Search for Scheduled Tribe Status

All around the world, affirmative action is implemented to address racial and economic inequality and social marginalization. In India, affirmative action is a deeply debated issue. In a country that is intensely divided along ethnic, religious, or linguistic lines and marked by innate institutional and hierarchical obstacles to social egalitarianism, safeguarding the welfare and developing the socio-economic status of marginalized communities seems possible only through affirmative action.  Affirmative action in India provides fixed reservations for certain marginalized groups who are called Scheduled Castes (SCs), the Scheduled Tribes (STs), and the Other Backward Classes (OBCs).

The term ‘scheduled’ is used because these communities have been given recognition in Schedule 5 of the Indian constitution. Article 366 (25) defines Scheduled Tribes as ‘such tribes or tribal communities or parts of or groups within such tribes or tribal communities as are deemed under Article 342 to be Scheduled Tribes for the purposes of this constitution.’ Article 342 of the Indian constitution prescribes the procedure to be followed in the matter of specification of scheduled tribes.

India views its disadvantaged groups through the prism of social and economic disparity. To uplift these communities, the Government works in three chief domains- appointment and promotion in government services, admission to public education institutions, and seats in the legislature. These groups/communities also benefit from various welfare programs that protect their land and provide food, housing security, and stipends for students. To benefit from welfare schemes, many communities in India try to prove themselves eligible to be awarded the privileged ST status.

Over the years, the number of Scheduled Tribes in India has exponentially increased to 705. More communities are clamoring for recognition as ST, including the Tamu Gurung, Khambu Rai, and Magar communities of Darjeeling and Sikkim. The demand for ‘11 Gorkha Communities’ to be enlisted as STs has also gained momentum in recent years. Whether these communities are eligible to meet the constitutional criteria to be enlisted as a tribe is a different discussion altogether, one that requires a deep anthropological and political study. Still, the achievement of the ST status of the Tamu Gurungs, Khambus, and the Magars was always considered inevitable.

 But it did not happen.

Apart from social movements or political persuasion, and its causes and effects, there are unbreakable constitutional rules to achieve ST status. A state government has to recommend a community to become a Scheduled Tribe to the Ministry of Tribal affairs. In West Bengal, the Cultural Research Institute conducts thorough research on a community before the state makes any recommendations. The Ministry of Tribal affairs takes the studies of the Registrar General of India (RGI), Anthropological Survey of India (ASI), and the National Commission for Scheduled Tribes (NCST), simultaneously.

The file will then reach the upper echelons of the ministerial pyramid. It will go through a committee of secretaries, headed by the secretary of Tribal Affairs and including secretaries of the Parliamentary committee for social justice and empowerment, Legal affairs, Home Ministry and Culture. This committee will decide, and the file will go to the Cabinet. We can presume that many cases are politically sensitive and are, hence, pending for years. Constitutionally, though, the entire process wouldn’t take more than six months. Government bodies such as the Burman Commission, Vishu Maini committee, and members of ASI have visited the ‘potential’ tribal communities of Sikkim and Darjeeling over the years. The demand for ST status by the organizations of the Khambus, Gurungs, and Magars has exceeded over two decades, and the files lay stationary at the office of the RGI and do not seem to move farther.

In the schisms between general anthropological validation and the particularities of politics and bureaucracy, there is a continuing struggle over what it means to be a tribe today and which one can be legitimately identified as one. There are five criteria for inclusion of a community in the STs List, and the concerned Government bodies require empirical evidence that a community collectively exudes these distinct characteristics. 

  1. Primitive Way of Life (traits),
  2. Distinctive culture
  3. Shyness of contact
  4. Geographical isolation
  5. Backwardness (Socio-Economic, Educational)

Setting all political influences, consequences, and the ‘6th schedule’ theory aside, let us look at how communities could fulfill the criteria.

How does a community establish that it follows a primitive way of life? Primitive traits mean bearing cultural or physical similarities with the early ancestors. From a Khambu perspective, this is possible with a display of the community’s Shamanic and Animistic roots. The custom of Khambu Suptulung reverence and its Sikari hunting rituals are reminiscent of the traditions of their ancestors. From an ethnographic standpoint, identifying a group’s culture—that shared reference system that guides a group members’ behavior, is not a simple task, but employing both qualitative and quantitative methods that seek to understand the cultural lens through which members of a group perceive their world, it is possible.

Sociologists and anthropologists, throughout the decades, have argued over the appropriate definition of culture. There is, however, a consensus, that culture is a combination of figurative mediums of values, such as beliefs, rituals, and art forms.  These mediums are further embellished with language, lore, stories, and traditions through which social processes of communication, exchange, and perceptions occur. Some cultures are influenced. Others could be learned, shared, or integrated, but if a community’s culture has refrained from these influences, it could be called distinctive.

Shyness of contact with the community at large requires a community to establish the prevalence of shyness within its members. Shyness, here, does not mean pathological disorder. It refers to how a tribe adapts to traditional concepts of development and socialization.  It is about the behavioral inhibition that fosters culturally appropriate, socially desirable characteristics. Tribal values cultivate the idea of one being just a tiny part of nature and may not endorse pro-social values that possibly lead to development in the modern world. Tribal shyness will exude humility, consideration, and awareness of the social and physical surroundings. One could study shyness of contact by collecting statistical data on vocational interests within a community and categorizing them based on gender, income, age, and geography. Figures can be collected on the gap between endogamous and exogamous marriages within the community.

Khambus, Gurungs, and Magars essentially live in clusters among their people. This is because tribal people are distinct social and cultural groups that share collective ancestral connections to the lands and natural resources where they live. Although this too is a typical ‘shyness of contact’ trait, it can fulfill the criterion of Geographic Isolation. Himalayan tribal communities, for a period of time, have had limited contact with the outside world. This long-term isolation has resulted in these homogenous clusters being far from urban centers. Here, data can be collected to identify the locations of these isolated clusters to estimate the total population of people. An evaluation of landscape features characteristic of areas used by isolated peoples, and how the regions are far from motorable roads, educational institutions, medical centers, and police stations, can be measured with accuracy.

All five criteria required for the specification of a community as Scheduled Tribes must invariably indicate that systemic discrimination and exclusion experienced by these groups has resulted in deprivation and poverty. In India, Scheduled Tribes are those communities that have long suffered discrimination and exclusion. This is reflected in a lack of access to income-earning, higher-quality employment, and public services and subsequently specifies Backwardness, social, educational, and economic. Collecting data regarding financial and educational backwardness is not a daunting task. However, that is what probably plagues the whole demand for ST status.

Can we definitively designate these tribes as socially and economically backward? While these tribes have survived a tragic history and are still languishing in remote regions and suffering from the iniquities of the tea gardens, a group of elites has broken this cycle nonetheless. Members of these tribes are mainstream politicians, literary figures, respected professionals, and public figures. They hold prominent positions in both private and public sector jobs. An overwhelming number of people from these communities join the military and receive the benefits of a mainstream career. These elites have the education and financial stability to give future generations better opportunities, thus creating a cycle of community improvement.

In the wake of continuing demand for reservation by new social groups, affirmative action establishments in India have become cautious about specifying a community as ‘disadvantaged’ or backward. This has also caused many to question the efficiency, implications, form, and capacity of affirmative action programs in India. While affirmative action has served as an effective instrument of social justice, it is also grappling with several challenges, such as being able to identify genuinely marginalized groups.

Political pundits and analysts hint at the need for political inducement to get a community listed as a Scheduled Tribe. In the constitution, though, the criteria are not spelled out but are well established. The demand for ST status will continue to resonate in the hills of Darjeeling and Sikkim. For the tribes that relentlessly visit politicians and Government offices with memorandums, the question must not be whether the Khambus, Gurungs, and Magars are authentic tribes. It must be about whether these communities, which are tribes, are marginalized ‘backward’ groups in present India.

Limbu Nahangma Ritual: The Quest for Life Spark

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Limbu Culture. No Comments on Limbu Nahangma Ritual: The Quest for Life Spark

“Indigenous people are healthier when their lives include traditional activities and values.” – Dr. Cheryl Currie

For the Limbu people, houses are the dwelling place of ‘life spark/vital force’, guarded by the spirits, who protect all sacred objects constituting the material and spiritual continuity of the family or the clan lineage. It is a domain that in many ways functions as a distinctive entity defining, protecting, and sustaining its members, as a kin-group. It is the responsibility of the head of the house, patriarch or matriarch, to guard the contents, and in particular, their vital life spark. To this end, all Limbu houses must perform the Nahangma appeasement ritual for the vital ‘life spark’ to be restored.

This ‘life spark’ is called Mukuma/Mukkum Sam in the Limbu language. For the Khambus, it is Saya. Mukuma Sam is inherently present in all living beings. This life spark has been passed down from the ancestors through nature and affects and is affected by the surrounding environment because it is the energy that binds and animates all things in the physical world. This applies to the energies and presences of the natural world. Mukuma Sam also empowers, and with unlimited authority, passes on the strength and protective aggression, necessary to operate in the physical realm.

The vital force Saya makes itself felt, not only in the subjective physical or psychic states but also, and in particular, in the social, economic, religious, and political spheres- that is, it finds expression in success, wealth, prestige, and power (Gaenszle) 1

The ritual of Nahangma is performed to restore Mukuma Sam of the family patriarch or matriarch (Tumyahang).  A scrutiny of the essence of worship, beyond the spiritual dimension, involved in the concept of Nahangma ritual, shows that it invariably constitutes the domain over which the family’s authority extends and on which its livelihood is based. Asking, through ritual, to reinvigorate the life spark is equal to endorsing the presence of a relationship between the physical world and the ancestral realm. The ritual is an enhancement of this life spark that finds its source through the benevolence of supernatural entities. Only then will humans be able to manage their dominion and govern it by laws promulgated exclusively by themselves. 

Nahangma, the divine feminine, possesses several attributes. She is associated with power, beauty, strength, benevolence, and rage. ‘Hang’, or ‘Hangma’ are terms that denote personalities that wield immense authority. Generally, hangma means queen, but it can also mean ‘protector’. In the Limbu myth, the ancient components made possible the events of the first female beings to take up their dwelling in our cosmos. While Yuma, the mother spirit, and her fertility allowed the birth of the first man, Nahangma appears to have been earth and nature itself – an immensely organic, ecological, and conscious whole. She is the one with whom humans would eventually lose touch, affecting their powers to operate in the house and the physical domain.

According to the Limbu myth, Porokmi Yambami Mang, a divine deity, once went to a village called Iwa Hongwana and won the Shot-put (Paklung) competition.  After his victory, as he threw the Paklung towards the North, the daughter of Sodhung Lepmuhang, a divine spirit, appeared. She came to be called Nahangma. In the realm of Sawa Yethang, the Eight Limbu Warriors, a fire destroyed various villages. Misfortune had struck, and the land was ravaged by diseases. Sodhung Lepmuhang, asked the youngest son of the Eight Kings, a prince named Seninghang, to go back to the villages and fetch sparkling water, a spear, and three power Shamans. On the way back, as he was playing with the spear, he suddenly started to tremble and went into a state of trance. Anyone who came to wield that spear would astonishingly start to tremble. Upon divination by the Shamans, they came to know that Nahangma was a warrior divinity and she was the one who had to be worshipped to avoid all calamities. She came to be called Khambutling Nahangma, and the Eights Kings started to worship her.

Armed with weapons, Nahangma resides in a snowy realm called Chotlung. Her realm is bright and high, where millions of springs converge to a single point called Sam Lamdoma.  Here, there is an unending expanse of blooming flowers, each spiritually connected to a human in the material world.  It is a life’s vegetable-twin, its double, its external soul, its flower soul, Phungsam (Sagant) 2. These flowers are the twin soul of humans that adorn the realm of their ancestors. As long as the flower blooms, its physical human twin will have the strength and good health. If it withers, the risk of misfortune or sickness increases.  These flowers that live in the shadow of Nahangma’s kingdom must always stay blooming so that an individual’s Mukuma Sam is at its highest capacity and has a strong connection with the ancestral world.

Traditionally, the head of the house, Tumyahang, offers a sacrifice to Nahangma twice a year, once at the beginning of the ascending season (Ubhauli) and once at the beginning of the descending season (Udhauli).  This ritual is performed by Limbu shamans like the Phedangma, Samba, and Yeba, with the Tumyahang beside him. The ritual starts in the afternoon and could easily take more than a few hours. An altar will be created in the fields below the house with an offering to Saba, the divine monkey spirit. The monkey spirit is impulsive and will attack the prey instinctively. Over thousands of years of irreconcilable differences between humans and their ancient brethren, the human officiant will try to appease the monkey spirit with offerings and sacrifice. Other divine entities, like the spirit of the forest (Tampungma), and the spirit of the Waters (Warokma), will be consoled by offering a rooster or an egg. The offerings will act like a symbolic fortress for protection against their arrival at the Nahangma altar (Laso) later on. When the temporary altar for the wild spirits is dismantled, the path is blocked, Lam Sakma, to the house.

When dusk sets in, the officiant will have to make offerings to Yuma. In Limbu culture’s oral narrative, Yuma, the primordial mother spirit, and Nahangma are perennial antagonists. Yuma could get jealous of Nagangma, and only the offering of sacrifices has the power to pacify her momentarily. The officiant intones the Limbu ritual speech (Mundhum). Spiritual masters and their invisible energies are invoked. The Limbus consider all neighbouring territories as power places, whose positive connotation derives from their conceptual association with the spatial categories of the hills, rivers, fields, and forests. The Mundhum is recited to honour a series of geographical locations, describing an ideal circular route of all cardinal directions. In the end, the central pillar of the house (Hangsitlang), transforms into the centre of the ritual, and the physical world.

Inside, an altar (Laso) has been created in honour of Nahangma. A bed of wild banana leaves is spread out with rice grains over it, and a brass container filled with water, millet, yeast, ginger, and salt. Among other items, there are weapons of the head of the house, which are the same as those of Nahangma- the bow and the sword/Khukuri. During the Mundhum recitation, the officiant constantly holds the sword or Khukuri. Sodhung Lepmuhang is first invoked. Then, the ten founding kings, and the eight warriors are all summoned to the altar of Nahangma.

While performing Nahangma, the Phedangma pleads to the almighty god for the energy, success, prosperity, and longevity of the benefactor and the whole family. Narrative stories are recited saying, thang tithing- tithing, thang yeppit-yeppit, thang wechcha-wechcha (Limbu phrases meaning- getting high-up, up with energy, up with prosperity) along with physical gestures and performances. (Limbu)3

The officiant takes a cosmic journey to Sam Lamdoma, the expanse of flowers to capture the lost ‘life sparks’. In this particular traditional domain, all the principles of the rite have their legitimacy. All the objects presented play their part in the conceptual structuring of the ritual, not only with the explicit purpose of transforming the entire physical dwelling into an altar but also with the intent of transposing divinations into responses from the otherworld. The officiant holds a red rooster, one that has been raised for at least a few years by the family. The red rooster is supposed to channel invisible energy and deliver a message through a fixed and precise liturgy directed to the tutelary spirits and vice versa. The rooster is placed on the left and right shoulders of the Tumyahang briefly.

A tremendous blow of a wooden stick strikes the back of the rooster. A few drops of its blood must drip upon the banana leaves, through its beak. Only then has the offering will have been accepted by Nahangma. Few of its feathers are plucked out and placed upon the altar. The officiant will wrap a white turban around the Tumyahang’s head, and while wrapping it, he places a feather upon the turban.  The officiant will then hold the sword, and the Tumyahang near him will carry the bow and arrow. Tumyahang must now howl and stamp his feet on the ground to imitate the ancient warriors of his clan. This gesture is repeated a few times. The Shaman will proclaim that his ‘life spark’ has been restored. His head has been raised, and all misfortunes have been averted.

At this stage of the Nahangma ritual, besides recalling Mukuma Sam, the offerings to Nahangma are also made to honour her virtues. Although the Limbu community is founded securely on some hegemony of the male lineage, this ritual inclines towards bearing witness to the existence of a mythical matriarch. Nahangma, with traditional masculine virtues, in their widest meaning, emerges and takes over Limbu domestic hierarchy with ritualistic authority. For the Limbu people, the Nahangma ritual, besides constituting the premise for a reintegration of the life spark/vital force, transforms the house from a static residence to a repository of traditions generated by the cultural schemes, history, and practices of its inhabitants.

References:

1. Gaenszle, Martin.(2000): Origins and Migrations: Kinship, Mythology and Ethnic Identity among the Mewahand Rai of East Nepal.

2. Sagant, Philippe.(1981): La tête haute : maison, rituel et politique au Népal oriental.

3. Limbu, RK.(20125): Limbu Indigenous Culture and Knowledge

Thōte – A Tamu Gurung Festival

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Gurung Culture. 2 Comments on Thōte – A Tamu Gurung Festival

Thōte (Tahote) is a ritualistic festival of the Tamu Gurung people, performed to forbid the entry of evil energies into the village community. Thōte, as an ancient tradition, is still an unchangeable rite in a Gurung society. Irrespective of geography and demographical vastness, the immediate natural domain of their habitat always forms a crucial part of the Gurung identity. The traditional history of Gurung rituals is vast, but special attention must be paid to Thōte, which, besides allowing us to focus on some of the aspects relating to the symbolic idea of community, also permits us to consider the relations that, through the idea of ritual, are instituted between the society and the supernatural entities that govern it.

In a nutshell, Thōte (Tahote) is a village worship festival, but the richness and complexity of its theme give it more meaning than just ‘forbidding evil forces from entering the village’. Thōte is a palpable display of the community’s lives and traditions connected intrinsically and spiritually to their traditional land, waters, and natural resources. The idea of ritual presented by Thote consists in an active form, many of the elements potentially present, or endured over time, amidst the Gurungs. Thōte serves various purposes- to banish evil from the village community, as a prayer for the protection of human life, cattle, and crops, and also as a glaring display of pride in cultural identity.

Thōte aims to address ritual ceremonies as the beginning of all power and energy to shape the village for the better, by warding off any unseen, unfavorable influence from the outside. We can be fairly certain that this tradition predates Tamu Gurung’s conversion to Buddhism. There is no particular tutelary village deity worshipped during the ritual. Instead, anonymous supreme spirits, without any human merit, but who hold vast sway over society, are either appeased or sent away from the village.  Both the Pachyu, a traditional Shaman, and the Khyabri, the Buddhist Shaman, perform the ritual together. Even with different backgrounds, they perform their sacred functions, and primarily protect and reinvigorate the intangible forces that influence the village.

Almost all Himalayan tribes celebrate Udhauli and Ubhauli – rituals/festivals to appease the deities for the well-being of all sentient beings. Thōte can be considered the Gurung equivalent. As a rule, Thote is performed three days in Chaitra (March-April) and three days in Shrawan (July-August). They perform the rite on Tuesdays. Organizing the ritual and managing the entire array of ceremonies are always determined by the community elders upon reaching a consensus. While the Gurung community today is not strictly governed by a hierarchical system, it can be described as a society adapting to the present social structures through traditional respect awarded to the elders within the community. Planning and execution will require knowledge of the ritual, its significance, and an understanding of the interrelation of all these factors. Traditions and customary laws dictate that all the elders with abundant experience, gather at the village center, to determine and finalize the management plans of the ritual.

Before the beginning of the ceremony, the villagers perform the task of collecting numerous offerings needed: a specific amount of corn, millet, and rice. Each household has to provide volunteers and items necessary for the subsistence and survival of the ritual.  In the village, each house is responsible for contributions, even though the household could subsidize individual members. Items like Ranijhar (Himalayan weed) and Bhakimlo (Rhus Chinensis/Nutgall Tree) are collected to cultivate ritual into a sacred process. The use of these items is significant to the Thote ceremonies and reinforces the transition of the normalcy of village life to ecstatic religious experiences. Different metallic weapons and musical instruments are also collected to be purified through the rite. These items, in the daily life of the individual or the group, acquire great importance, and it would seem, then, that without their presence in the village purification ritual, the ceremony is impossible. The ritual will be considered adequate and successful if the village can resolve all conflicts with the spiritual entities to revitalize energies through customary rites.

At least in general terms, the symbolic association of the community, from a social dimension, appears to be mutually integrated, as the entire village comes together for the preparation and management of the ritual and the festivities. Food is prepared collectively to appease the spirits. For sacrificial rites, Roosters are collected. A group of men and women gather to begin the village cleaning work as they clean out the drains, remove weeds and repair the pathways. The villagers gather branches of the Bhakimlo tree and hang them in the cardinal directions upon the entry/exit gates. 

Some of the logs of the Bhakimlo are cut into fine pieces of wood. A thin wooden piece of this wood is called a fitlee. Temporary gates of Bhakimlo wood and Ranijhar weed are constructed, and five fitlees hang on them, creating an invisible division between the village and unknown space. The ritual, which at the macrocosmic level, runs between two sets of religious beliefs-Buddhist, and Bon– is represented on a reduced scale by the Bakhimlo branches that are marked with yellow paint to represent Buddhism’s colors in the Gurung ceremonial repertoire. Bhakimlo wood also hangs on the doors of the village houses.

Mock weapons, to be used as props during the ritual, are also made out of Bakhimlo wood. The Indigenous populace, in most cases, form self-sustaining plant communities that have successfully adapted to a local region, and they tend to resist damage from freezing, drought, and common diseases, with the help of indigenous plants in that particular region. Bhakimlo (Nutgall) has always played a similar role in the Gurung community’s survival for ages. Other materials, such as charcoal, turmeric, white and red soil or rice flour, bird feathers, and animal skins, if any in the village, for embellishing a performer, are collected. As the collection of all the ritualistic materials concludes, the elaborate ceremony and performances begin.

The ceremony begins with a procession from the entry gate. The villagers start a fire, and juniper incense burns over charcoal embers and butter. The shamans beat their drums, and the five Fitlees upon the gate, are worshipped and purified. A volunteer will carry the incense in a censer and lead the procession. The performers follow the volunteer with the mock weapons.  It appears that the Gurung vision of their domain does not entail any firm split between two dimensions. Items of ritual are simultaneously relevant to the physical world and the spiritual realm.  Every performer is required to commit to the performance. They enter the village roads, where their dances and pantomimes are staged to resemble a fierce battle, representing the averting of evil spirits and the restoration of balance at the end.

The performers disguise themselves as wizards, ghosts, and animals, and most wear tattered costumes made up of rags, animal skin, and feathers. They paint their faces, and the Ranijhar adorns their bodies. The organized sequence of events, rituals, and texts exist separately from the performers. The procession may be a ritual movement that requires contiguous control and physical cadence, but the performance is not scripted, nor does it adhere to conventional actions. Other participants walk behind them – whistling, shouting, and the beating of drums ensue. The procession will reach out to every house in the village, around which they will perform animated actions with loud noises and whistles to deflect evil energies.  This procession reaches the exit gate where they will ignite a fire, incense, and worship the five fitlees believing that evil has left the village boundaries.

Outside the gate, the ritual resumes. A rooster is brought, purified by aspersing local alcohol, and sacrificed with a ritual hack. By performing the sacrifice, the Gurungs ask the spirits to return the ‘life force’ and catalyze the presence of ‘health’ within the village. Local beer and alcohol are offered to the spirits. After leading all those attending the rite outside the village, the sacrificial objects too shall remain outside. The rooster meat, and the remaining alcohol, are consumed by the participants. The village is proclaimed the place of protection and safety: the opposite of unknown space. The village gate changes polarity during the ritual and is transformed into a physical boundary between the invisible powers and humans. What affects the welfare of the village may subsequently, at the same time, apply to other realities- the unknown space, on a substantially greater scale; the hill where the village is located, on a smaller scale, and the human spirit, beyond everything else. 

Limbu Culture

The Legend of Neuli

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Folk Tales. No Comments on The Legend of Neuli

Once upon a time, a couple lived in a place called Langsodin. The husband’s name was Khesewa, and the wife’s name was Mendangna. They lived in a cave, spending their lives foraging for fruits and nuts in the forest. In time, the wife bore a son. They named him Sellok.

They lived happy lives in the forest. Time passed by so swiftly that the newborn in the arms started crawling. Since they depended on the forest for food, they had to occasionally leave little Sellok behind in the cave and venture deep into the forest.

One day, the couple left their son at the cave and went into the forest to look for food. When Sellok woke up, he was all alone. He started to crawl outside and fell into a bush of stinging nettle. The nettle stung, and he began to cry.  When the couple returned home, they were shocked to see their son suffering. They quickly applied herbs and healed the boy.

A few days later, the couple returned to the forest leaving little Sellok behind. To ensure that he wouldn’t meander out of the cave, they tied his feet to a pole with a small rope and put him to sleep. That day a snake entered the cave and bit Sellok. Its venom rendered him unconscious.

When the couple returned home, they found their son almost lifeless. They mixed some herbs and quickly applied them to the snake bite. Sellok was cured, but he was not as healthy as before. In time, he became like a snake, slithered around, and wandered the mountains, hillsides, dunes, and caves. The couple tried hard to heal him completely, but nothing worked.

One day, Sellok left the cave and never returned. The couple began to mourn. Calling out to their son, ‘Sellok, Sellok’, the couple searched in the forests, hills, rivers, and streams.  They went hungry and thirsty and wandered all the lands to find their son, but nowhere could he be found. Mendangna and Khesewa finally gave up their lives due to the pain of losing their son.

It is believed that they were reborn as Neuli, (The Great Barbet birds), but their suffering continues. Even today, Mendangana and Khesewa, as birds, are searching for their lost son in the forest, shouting “Sellok, Sellok …”

Tamang Marriage: Mock Capture and Negotiation

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Tamang Culture. No Comments on Tamang Marriage: Mock Capture and Negotiation

“Tambase Kairen Sungmami, Hyangla Jamey Busingda,
Chhangra Maangra Mokkon Chaajinji, Nhugi Kutumbala Jimmari,
Hyang Tamangla Rimthimari“

“The Tamba speaks of history, Hereafter our daughter,
Her rituals are all done, the onus upon the Patriclan now,
Says all Tamang customs“

–Tamba la Hwai (Tamba’s Song)

Marriage customs and rituals have passed through a long progression of cultural evolution among many tribes in the Himalayas. Even with group affiliations and individual choices, marriage customs, with a few exceptions, employ age-old conventions across various communities, including the Tamangs. Many time-honored customs and rituals attached to the wedding system exist in traditional Tamang culture. Regardless of urban influences, in the rural regions, these rituals, sometimes strange to an outsider, are still integral parts of a mosaic of traditions associated with the Tamang community. Tamang marriage rituals are relevant even in modern times and continue to shape their society, individuals, and cultural narratives.

The conventional model of patrilineal descent and its sociological norms still govern the societal system of Tamang relations. A Tamang woman must leave her natal family and settle down with her husband’s family when she marries. Traditional Tamang marriages (Brelsaang) occurred between cross-cousins, thereby convoluting the distance between natal and marital families. In a system of such convention, that produces various possible elementary structures of kin in society, the generic terms Maiti (Wife Givers/Natal) and Kutumba (Patriclan), and their meanings, though maintained in Tamang parlance, bears an intricate structure that forges new ties between extended material kin. 

Tamang society, for the most part, is patrilineal. Descent is traced through the father’s lineage, although cultural values are motivated by matrifocal endeavors. Affinity towards the tribe plays a significant role while conveying the social definitions of marriage in general and identity in particular, as the bride keeps her surname even after marriage. This means that the affinity of a daughter towards her surname or clan (Rui/Hui) remains unchanged. Therefore, marriage, due to the collective character of both genders, is seen as a shared experience, influenced by individuals and patriclan sections, rather than merely being an individual affair. It becomes a medium that helps bolster affinal relationships. Of course, such a powerful and socially embedded inter-tribe construct also presents complex marriage negotiations. 

Eloping and mock capture, separately, are familiar concepts of marriage in rural Tamang societies. While endogamous marriage is always the norm, arranged marriages (Maagi Biha) are the only proper amicable system of marriage involving cross-cousins. Maagi Biha also has the consent of the parents. Nevertheless, eloping and mock captures are not unprecedented traditions. Bride capture may have once been a tradition but is not practiced in totality anymore. Mock capture, colloquially referred to as Chori Biha, occurs as a part of the marriage ritual in an endogamous marriage arrangement. 

Capture is symbolic today, where the bridegroom or his friends should go through the form of feigning to steal the bride or carry her off from her friends by superior force. Although the marriage has consent, theft or abduction that follows has a concerted matter of form, to make the marriage valid. Real capture would mean actual abduction but ritual capture also means obstructing the allowance of the groom to capture the bride to allow for negotiations upon the fulfillment of particular demands by the bride’s family.  

Once mock capture has been accomplished, and the bride begins her life with her groom, the particlan sends a wooden container filled with alcohol to the father of the bride, as a request for negotiation. The container, sent through the mediator/negotiator (Ganba/Tamba), is called Thegaan Pong.  Thegaan Pong symbolizes promise and honor, in Tamang traditions (Rimthim). Alcohol containers are called Pong and often reflect Tamang cultural perceptions of the role of alcohol in rituals. Tamang culture has an established heritage of traditional practices, and the enactment of such, according to situational appropriateness may involve complex and subtle dissimilarities. However, the rules governing the use of alcohol and its containers are always rigidly observed. The mediator, and the Pong, must reach the house of the bride within five days of the capture. 

Tamang marriages must follow reciprocal obligations between the bride’s and groom’s clans on both sides. While all rituals of negotiation may sometimes not always be achieved in totality, all marriages ultimately follow the traditional protocols of negotiated exchange. The ideal roles and functions of kin on both sides are equal, to some extent, and have their ways of initiating the union, but if actual experiences of marriage negotiation are scrutinized, they all begin with a formal request by a party representing the groom. Subsequent reciprocity of dialogues and material gifts enter the marriage into a framework of traditional legitimacy that ultimately will also validate the offspring from the couple. 

 At the bride’s home, the mediator and his assistant offer three Pongs of alcohol to the woman of the house. Rejection is usually rare but it is up to the bride’s family to accept or decline the Pong. Upon acceptance, formal marriage rites will occur. During the wedding, the groom’s mediator, with containers of alcohol and other gifts, engages in an elaborate meandering dialogue, informing the bride’s kin about the groom’s assets and genealogy. These gifts, at the outset, might look like bride purchase, practiced in ancient times, but is today considered Riti Danda, or bride penalty. In standard Tamang traditions, such payment is simply a matter of custom, ‘an affair of manners rather than morals.’

Exchanges are often an emotive issue and serve as a customary introduction between kin on both sides. During the wedding feast, witnessed by the village and clan members, the groom gives pieces of fabric and money, to the bride. These symbolize the promise of the groom to become a lifelong provider. Due to the powerful and socially embedded system of reciprocity, material gifts are exchanged as the groom offers money and alcohol to the bride’s mother, and she hands him a white turban-a symbol of honor. 

As the wedding ritual progresses and the bride’s natal kin (Maiti) gives her away to the groom’s patriclan (Kutumba), four different kinds of witnesses must be deemed present and duly honored. 

  1. The omnipresent divine spirits
  2. A Rooster to represent the Himalayan Monal and the Peacock of the plains
  3. Fish, to represent the holy waters
  4. All the guests present to witness the wedding

These witnesses are called Chhongkhor or Chaardam and serve as reminders that the markers of a legitimate marriage also require the blessings of all realms, physical and spiritual.  

After the solemn union between the bride and the groom, both clans will impart money and blessings. While both clans, to some measure, perceive each other as equals, during the ritual, the bride’s natal kin stand in a principal position as they become ‘wife-givers’. For the Tamang people, the clan holds enormous importance, and marital choices do not always pertain to individuals. Decisions should be made in the larger interest of the clan. Therefore, Tamangs place enormous emphasis on arranged marriages, although gradual erosion of traditional marriage systems in favor of individual choices, sometimes exogamous, has been observed in the Tamang community presently.

Gurung Folktale

Life Essence

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Folk Tales. No Comments on Life Essence

Once upon a time, in a village, there lived two friends named Hongsahro and Puchukyahala. Together, they cultivated Barley in the fields. Due to their hard work, the land became lush with the crop, and it seemed that they would soon have a good harvest.  The two friends were overjoyed to see that their toil had paid off. It was almost time for the Barley to ripen. However, their joy soon turned into worry when they noticed that each night some of the ripened Barley would disappear from the fields. They realized that someone had been stealing their crops at night. The thief had to be apprehended!

At night, the two of them hid near the fields. Hongsahro climbed a tree at the top of a river and sat down. Puchukyahala climbed a tree at the bottom of the river and waited.  At midnight a woman appeared. Since it was a moonlit night, they saw the woman well. Both of them ran from their respective places and reached the place where the woman was preparing to steal their crop.

Hongsahro shouted, ‘Who are you? Are you the one who has been stealing our Barley?’

 ‘You are a thief who eats what others have earned by sweating. We will not let you go.’, added Puchukyahala.

She calmly replied, ‘I do not have a single piece of land to cultivate. I stole your crops because I would die without food. I am helpless. What should I do?’

In the moonlit night, as the friends looked at her intently, they realized that the woman before them was extremely beautiful.  They were both fascinated by her speech and beauty. Mesmerized by her beauty, the friends forgot about their purpose and quickly proposed marriage to the woman.

She smiled and asked, ‘Yes. But whom should I marry? ‘

As Puchukyahala was already married, Hongsahro said, “I am the one who will marry you.” The woman agreed, and Hongsahro took her home.

Honsaharo’s marital life was good for some time, but after a year, his health started to deteriorate rapidly. Every week, he kept thinner and weaker until he became so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. He remained sick most of the time. One day, Puchukyahala went to see him. Puchukyahala was shocked and saddened to see that his friend had become extremely feeble. The two talked for a long time.

Honsahro said, ‘I cannot eat the food. It seems flavorless and I get no taste from it. I think I am going to die.’

‘Do not worry. Let us go to the Pachyu Shaman who will find a solution.’ said Puchuyahala.

Then two went to a well-known Pachyu Shaman named Kraholu. The Shaman did some ritualistic divination and said, ‘She is a ghost, and her name is Sabru. She eats the entire flavor of the food before giving it to Honsahro. That is why Hongsahro gets no taste or nutrition from his food. She has plans to make Honsaharo a ghost, like herself, gradually.’

After hearing from the Shaman, the two of them took the woman to the top of a high cliff.  There, while pretending to look at the lice in the woman’s hair, Honsahro pushed her off the cliff. However, her hand caught on to a large rock, and she dangled in the middle of the cliff.  Then she revealed her true form, jumped, and hid in the abyss. A few days after this incident, Hongsahro became very sick.

Puchukyahala, seeing the miserable condition of his friend, went everywhere to cure him. But when he could not be healed, he went to the Pachyu Shaman again. The Shaman told him that the ‘life essence’ of Hongsahro had been taken away by Sabru to the underworld. The Shaman then prepared a ritual. Among all the necessary items such as rice grains, meat, fish, milk, alcohol, pure water, he prepared nine knots on a string. The Shaman started his chants and summoned the life essence of Hongsahro. The life essence of Hongsahro became free, as the Shaman tied the string around the hand of Hongsahro, and his body healed immediately. Puchukyahala also put his hand on his head and greeted his friend. Hongsahro soon recovered completely and started spending his days happily.

Khyah – The Newari Ghost

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Newar Culture. No Comments on Khyah – The Newari Ghost

‘Jim baa na macha bale khya khangu ha.’ 

 ‘My father saw a ghost when he was a child.’ Told periodically along the labyrinthine alleys of old Newari towns, these ghost stories have transferred from generation to generation. They continue to remain as frightening as ever.

Every culture has a ghost story to tell. The existence of good and bad ghosts is inherent in the collective cognizance of all communities in the Himalayas. Ghosts exist across all religious and mythological traditions. Among the Newar people, however, such archaic supernatural entities are ubiquitous, thereby steering the narratives of individual, collective, ethnic, and religious memories. Although ‘Khyah’ in the Newari language translates to ghost, it is essentially a spirit that actively participates in the set of circumstances that govern the physical world.

Khyak or Khyah, the mythical creature, is one of the central characters in Newari folklore. It is a burly, hairy, ape-like creature, prominent in children’s stories, popular in Newari society. Among the Newars, there are countless accounts of Khyah sightings, legends, tales, and publications. Khyah serves as a meaningful rhetorical character or legend that helps transmit knowledge across generational boundaries and fosters cultural associations. Usually, such terrifying creatures are symbolic of evil, but Khyah represents both good and evil and redefines Newari moral understanding of the causes and consequences of negatively valued behavior.

Himalayan Mythical Creature, Newari Khyah Ghost

To the Newars, not all Khyahs are bad. Some are the protectors of the house, family, and prosperity. They are also the guardians of good fortune (Saha, in Nepali) that prevails in the house. Khyahs always dwell in the dark as they are afraid of the light. There are two types of Khyahs; white and black. The white ones are the good ones who fill the house with good fortune and happiness, while the black Khyahs are equated with bad luck and hindrances. Household Khyahs are revered in Newari houses and reside in attics or dark storerooms. This is a form of spirit worship that most Himalayan cultures adhere to. Khyahs appear in the bhandar and dhukuti, rooms where grains are stored, and where other valuables like gold and silver ornaments are kept. The resident white Khyah is supposed to bring good luck to the household. 

 According to Newari legend, the old Gods gave birth to the terrible Khyahs. It is said that a child was born to the old gods, and a tussle began between them to hold the baby. The struggle led to the detachment of the skin, and the child only remained with flesh and bones. Out of the flesh came Khyah, and Kavam emerged as the skeleton. The mythical twins became symbolic of the counterbalancing principles of good and evil. To control the power of the twins, the Gods created the Newari instrument called Dhimay from a tree trunk. During Khyah Pyakhan, the traditional Newari dance, dancers dressed as Khyah, dance to the beat of a Dhimay. Much like the Newari cultural faith in the existence of two halves of the universe that fit together like night and day, the Khyah twins represent the symmetry of the cosmos in motion. 

Dhimay

Khyak stories and legends present deep insights into the affective dimension of human learning and socialization in the Newari community and the role of stories in the transfer of cultural knowledge and values. Story and myth still form an integral part of traditional forms of education among the Newari community. As a challenge to the coherent, rational model of a standardized mainstream educational archetype that inclines towards trivializing story and myth as figments of imagination, Khyaks are symbolic of Newari belief in the spirit realm and supernatural entities and play a pivotal role in their cultural narrative.

In Nepali, the words “Deuta Palnu” (Nurturing a Deity) aptly describe this tradition. Such reverence for good Khyahs comes from Newari animism traditions and practices since ancient times. In Kathmandu valley, one can find wall paintings, statues, and carvings of them – testaments to the significance of this mythical creature in Newari culture. Images of Khyaks are also placed at temples as guardians of the shrine. In Newari festivals, dancers display Khyak Pyakhan, which is a dance depicting the powers and struggles of the Khyak creatures.

The cultural, social, and spiritual significance of Khyah is reflected in the cycle of ceremony adhered to by traditions. Khyahs often make significant appearances in the Newari Gufa tradition, a ritual meant for young girls before the beginning of their menstruation. During this ritual, girls remain inside a dark room with a small doll that represents Bahra Khyah. Ever present and continuously infiltrating into the mainstream Newari culture, Khyah reaffirms the notion that physical and spiritual coexist. It endorses the idea that personal welfare in this world is caused by entities beyond the physical sphere, significant for mutual survival. 

Therefore the world of spirits or ghosts is not one of wonder but of familiarity. The world of humans is only one of the multiple parallel worlds that work together to continue the process of Khyah and people. To the Newars, if one aspect of the knot is removed, the integrity of societal traditions is threatened, and all other aspects are weakened. To some, Khyahs represent the idea of good and bad in the world. To others, they are an integral part of a rich cultural heritage. Many, however, attach Kyahs to the regular terrifying stories heard and help preserve the memory of the loving grandmother who narrated these stories at night. Amidst the Newars, these stories, legends, and traditions always survive with individuals – much like the omnipresent terrifying Khyahs themselves.