To live in a naturally beautiful place that is being destroyed by the selfish designs of human beings is a great dilemma when you are a part of the very society that has led to the outcome. To understand yet to be helpless about this is paralyzing until you realize that the effort you bring about to change may add more to complexity rather than solving it. The answer is also not in ignoring it.
How do we find a perfect balance to solving a problem without creating a new one? Or should ideas be executed despite the consequences of the perpetual motion of creation and destruction? One good begets another good and the same cycle applies to the bad. The endless battle of good versus evil has been taught throughout the history of mankind and we still haven’t learned much from it, have we? Have we been selective in our lessons? That the reward of the good being long, testing, and uncertain but that of the evil being instant with a possibility of absolution? Are we conditioned to be good so evil can rule without much competition?
Nature is being vandalized for the comforts of men of the wealthier kind and yet the seasonal punishment due to natural calamities and weather is hell-bent to make the sufferings of the poor the worst. The elites seem to guide the poor for their own credentials rather than the betterment of the deprived, generally speaking. Oh yes, sure, good works are being done and the awards are being handed out. The audience and the poor clap together. Yet another achievement!
Then there is the corrupt man, whose conscience is ruthless. No age will change the nature of a corrupt man. No boundary is impregnable to satiate his hunger for power.
Ironically, the modern world mocks the primitive man who exists in his bare simplicity and cannot comprehend the progress of artificial intelligence in the nuclear era. This primitive man manures the earth, fodders his cattle, pacifies his ancestors and gods, invokes all the divinities, and offers his harvest while placing his unwavering faith in nature, to whom he obliges his existence.
The contemporary world ignores the nomads who choose to shift rather than build a formidable dwelling system against the natural order of all things seasonal. Not for lack of ingenuity, but for a great deal of reverence for nature. A tradition that had successfully secured many a thousand years of sustainability. All to be undermined by less than half a century of rabid patronization of earth-abusing machines and farming technologies to cater to the demands of the growing billions.
Let us reminisce, lest we forget the years when the numbers didn’t seem so imposing, the walk not so tedious, the foods that only came from the skies and earth, the comforts that didn’t know the demands; the hard work of the father, the love of the mother and the abundance of faith.
“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 (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.
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 …”
“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 ThegaanPong. ThegaanPong 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.
The omnipresent divine spirits
A Rooster to represent the Himalayan Monal and the Peacock of the plains
Fish, to represent the holy waters
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.
In the 21st Century, an era of technological advancement and the age of the millennials, talking about tribal customs and traditions is sure to make you unmake friends. As younger people talk more about Instagram reels, YouTube shorts, and nanotechnology, it is seemingly difficult to get ethical and ethnical messages across the preoccupied minds of today’s progressive generation.
But sooner or later, for many young Khambus, the reality will crash in with a bang. The realization will dawn and they will begin to frantically search for the answers i.e. if their families still follow Khambu rituals and tradition. For most, seeking the help of the elders in the house will be an exercise in the collection of rhetorical proclamations that will make you feel alien to the Khambu world. The decades of conversions into different faiths, the internal strife created by cosmopolitan ideas, and rapid modernization, having taken a toll on the idea of being who you are, put one in a not-so-ideal situation to be in. But as a wise man, whose name escapes my memory at the moment, once said, “the quest for an answer is the beginning of wisdom”.
For young Khambus, the moment of realization usually begins when a member of the family leaves for another realm. ‘Sima’ or the passing away of a family member is a profound moment that also brings you to the humble understanding of life, as seen through the traditions of Khambus. The post-funeral ritual of “Lam-Pakma”, while providing a theatrical affair for the village audience, brings a cathartic experience for the bereaved family. It is the moment when you either feel spiritually connected or feel ostracized in the awakening moment of being Khambu.
If your young mind has thus awakened to the idea of being Khambu, then these are some rudimentary elements that are specific only to Khambus and those which one must be well versed in order to interconnect when you are in the universe of Khambu Rais.
1. Pachha In a gathering of Khambus, the ultimate method amongst Khambus to break the ice is by inquiring about each other’s Pachha. And if you discover the other’s Pachha is the same as yours, then it calls for a celebration of finding an extended family member. The Pachha is the male hereditary lineage of a Khambu family.
2. Samet While Pachha tracks a single bloodline ancestry, Samet identifies the origin of the whole clan. Therefore, identifying one’s Samet is necessary to carry out the rituals properly.
3. Samkha & Samkhalung Every Khambu household practicing Khambu traditions must unequivocally have a Samkha which is a dedicated room containing sacred three upright hearthstones collectively known as Samkhalung. The importance of having these cannot be stressed more as every Khambu ritual begins and ends with the invocation of Khambu ancestors here.
4. Mangpa / Mangma Mangpa or Mangma are the Khambu Shamans whose services are crucial to carrying out Khambu rituals. They are the divine children of the forest spirits and every Khambu must be aware of their importance in our society.
5. Mangkhim Although Mangkhim is a recent addition to the post-modern Khambu world, there are ample pieces of evidence of it having existed in ancient Khambu history. Mangkhim can be generally translated as ‘the house of divine spirits’.
6. Mangsewa Mangsewa is Khambu equivalent of Hindu “Puja”, Christian “Mass” or Islamic “Namaz”. Khambus offer prayers and oblations to the divine spirits and lineage ancestors during Mangsewa. In Khambu languages, the word ‘Mang’ means divine spirit and ‘Sewa’ is veneration.
7. Sakela Today, Sakela is observed by Khambus throughout the world as a cultural festival. While that is acceptable for the most part, a Khambu must realize that Sakela is much more than just a cultural festival. It is the very foundation of being Khambu. Sakela is the bridge to understanding our bond with nature and the divine spirits.
There! When you are well versed in the above 7 topics you can comfortably reassure yourself on the journey of rediscovering your roots.
Once, a Khambu friend asked me matter of factly, “Isn’t my surname enough to identify me as a Khambu? Why should I prove myself further that I am indeed a Khambu?”
I told him, “Sure, but what use is the seed of a fruit tree that doesn’t sprout, grow roots, and bear no foilage and fruits?”
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.
‘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.
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.
Once upon a time, in the Western Himalayan foothills, there lived a powerful Magar Shaman (Ramma) named Puran San. One day, in that kingdom, the queen fell ill, and the King summoned Puran San to tend to the queen and heal her. Puran San reached the palace, recited his powerful chants into a glass of water, and gave it to the queen to drink. With just a gulp, the queen became healthy again.
Unbeknownst to everyone in the realm, the queen had become a victim of the evil eye of the nine witch nieces of one black magic practitioner named Maitye. Enraged by Puran San’s intervention, they plotted to make the queen fall sick again. This time they also spread a rumor across the Kingdom that Puran San was actually a Wizard and that he deliberately made the queen fall ill time and again.
Soon, the rumor reached the King’s ears, and in a fit of anger, he ordered the arrest of Puran San. The news of the order of his arrest reached Puran San before the soldiers arrived. He told his wife that he would go into hiding nine stories deep into the underworld and that she, in no way was to reveal his hide-out, unless the soldiers paid her in gold and other riches. He quickly taught her the ritual charm to penetrate the underworld and went deep before the soldiers arrived.
The soldiers looked for him everywhere but could not find Puran San. The wife remained silent when interrogated. She demanded gold in return for information on her husband’s whereabouts. As threatening and persuasion failed to produce results, she was finally paid with gold. Then she opened the portal into the underworld. The soldiers searched for Puran San in the underworld, and when they finally found him, they were no match before Puran San’s powers. They could not arrest him.
‘I will go with you on one condition,’ said Puran. ‘That I am given a fair trial by the King.’
The soldiers agreed.
At the court, he pleaded innocent. He requested that nine witches be captured quickly for they were behind all sickness within the royal family. Soon, the witches were found but they could not be killed by common men for they were much too powerful. Puran San would have to use his powers to execute them. But the youngest among the nine pleaded before Puran San.
‘Without us,’ she said. ‘You will lose your patients. They will stop getting sick. They will stop calling for your help.’
She begged that he spare them, and in return, they would give him the knowledge of the cure for the afflicted. Puran San agreed.
So, a pact between Shamans and Witches was made that day. The pact remains even today.
Mangkhims are temples of the Kirati Khambu Rai people. These modern-day structures, built to house the holy hearthstones, are a modern introduction – an attempt to resurrect Khambu Rai animistic traditions and somewhat organize its Shamanic religion. Mangkhims are both traditional and reformed. They are built to accentuate ethnic Khambu Rai traditions of ancestor worship as well as other early beliefs. That which is distinctive in Khambu heritage should surely be reflected in its design for Khambus cannot express their traditions properly until they are free from other religious influences to which, for reasons unknown, they still tend to cling. Hence the veneration and the construction of the Mangkhim became prevalent to restructure this idea of reformed configuration. However, they reveal a discontinuity of traditional Khambu ideology.
Khambu Rai tradition entails two principal creeds – ancestor reverence and nature worship. All nature-worshipping rituals, which are public ceremonies, are performed by the Shaman (Mangpa), and rites related to ancestor worship are performed on the hearthstones, by the elder of a particular kin group, inside the house. These hearthstones are the sanctum sanctorum of the Khambu Rai people. Known as Samkhalung or Suptulung, Hearthstones are at the core of Khambu cultural identity. A Mangkhim attempts to imitate this sanctum by placing similar hearthstones as the central shrine.
Suptulung (Hearthstones)
However, the Suptulung placements of most Mangkhims, unlike the universal model they embody, are inexpedient, directionless, and erroneous. Khambu Rai homes have Hearths made up of 3 upright stones on the ground. While these three stones are visible, the Suptulung is a combination of 8 stones, and their spiritual significance and bio-geometry are generally accepted. But what one must understand here is that a Suptulung is not just an altar. It is in fact, also the kitchen hearth. Called Chula Dhunga, in colloquial Nepali, Suptulungs serve as ritual altars and as hearths to cook food. In modern times, traditional stone hearths and kitchens have become obsolete, and the Suptulung has been relegated to function only as an altar and become a religious symbol.
While the Khambus have always attempted to return to the imagined simplicity and a sense of community enjoyed by the ancient age, many modern Mangkhims have removed those grounded Samkhalungs and instead built tiered pyramid pedestals upon which those hearthstones now stand. Although the concept of Mangkhims remains fundamentally traditional, the introduction of these rectangular pedestals undermines the model of the Suptulung in its original form. Where has there ever been a kitchen hearth that’s out of reach?
Tiered Pyramid Suptulung
‘This kind of adjustment of conceptual categories is also encountered in the symbolic function of the domestic hearth (daplo). Indeed, although its location in some way forms the crossing of the ground floor diagonals (the dwelling’s geometric center), the Kulunge define the hearth as the “center” (mrap tusko) of the ground floor.’ – Martino Nicolleti, The Ancestral Forest
A Sutptulung has always been symbolic of having derived its essence from Sumnima, the primeval mother ancestor, a human manifestation of the earth. Shamans use Mundhum (ritual language) to dedicate rituals in witness of the divine Neenamma and Henkhamma, sky and earth. But these tiered sanctums, introduced through Mangkhims downplay or even deny the concept of sacred earth and reject the idea of Sumnima, as the primordial ancestor.
Most Mangkhim sanctums have considered the Khambu Suptulung an unreachable ideal. This is evident in those tiered pedestals plastered with decorative tiles and adorned with flowers, gingers, and water grails ‘offerings’. This is the wrong interpretation of the very concept of Khambu Suptulung and shows how contemporary Khambus have misunderstood its essence. For most Khambus who are influenced by Hindu symbols, tiered Suptulungs somehow represent the Yajna Vedi or Kunda. But a few understand that these tiered structures that became the norm in Mangkhims, come from the Limbu religious Den pyramid. The Limbus believe there are nine worlds (Dens) above the earth and nine below in this universe. The earth stands in between these worlds. The Limbus have tiered representations of these Dens inside their Mangkhims.
Limbu Den Pyramid
‘There are no idols in these Mangkhims but we find nine steps constructed in the form of a pyramid. Oil lamps or candles are lit and kept on the four corners of each of the steps. They pray with ‘Lasari’, a brass plate with Artemisia flower twigs with silver coins, grains of rice, etc kept on the top of the nine-step altar. Limboos make three rounds with the dhoop in hand starting from the right side of the altar and pray to the Almighty facing the eastern side, standing on the western side of the altar.’ – Jayaraman Suresh, The Religion and the Socio-cultural Life of the Limboos of Eastern Himalayas
Exalted as the tiered pyramid is, it is by no means aligned with Khambu traditions, beliefs, and practices. So, why were these tiered structures of the Limbus copied? Well, ignorance! One of the first Mangkhims ever built was by Kirat Rai Yayokha (Khambu Rai organization of Nepal) at Hattiban, Lalitpur, Kathmandu. Unbeknownst to most Khambus from Darjeeling, this Mangkhim was built together by the 4 Kirati communities, Khambu, Limbu, Yakha, Koits, and houses religious items and symbols of all four communities.
This Mangkhim has four entrances, and each opens up to the central chamber. Each entrance belongs to each of the aforementioned Kirati groups. While all doors lead to the same inner chamber, the first thing one sees through a particular door is that group’s religious symbol. For example, the eastern door is for the Khambus, and when opened, the first thing one sees is the Hearthstones, Suptulung, firmly centered on the ground. However, as one approaches the Mangkhim, the immediate door is that of the Limbus, and when one opens it, the first thing witnessed is the tiered Den pyramid of the Limbus. Many Khambus, without any prior knowledge of this, started to believe that this tiered Den pyramid is the standard model of any Mangkhim. Without proper scrutiny and inquiry, they returned to Darjeeling and copied this pyramid structure.
Limbu Den at Hattiban Mangkhim
The intersection between lofty shrines and the spiritual dimension is difficult to define since it is subjective and dependent on belief systems. We cannot say for sure that Khambus can easily see the sacred in a Mangkhim’s noble grandeur. Many traditional observers find it amusingly ironic that simple ‘kitchen’ Suptulung grounded in Henkhama would imitate temples designed as Yajna Vedis that allow incense smoke and flower-fruit offerings. Common sense dictates that the hearth, in any culture, house, or place of worship, is always on the floor. According to Khambu traditions too, it must be placed on the ground and at the center, and represent a modest, simple shrine rather than a grand multi-level structure.
Although many Khambus argue that there is no pre-defined way to construct a Mangkhim, its architecture needs more speculations and study. We must understand that Mangkhims might be a modern introduction but it’s certainly not the first house of worship that the Kirati Khambus have ever built. Gopalavamshali is a historical document that corroborates the claim that the Kirati civilization flourished in Nepal valley for 1903 years until its fall in around 50 AD. Would a civilization that lasted for almost two millennia not build any temples? Historical evidence suggests that they did.
According to Licchavi inscriptions, 24 temples constructed by the Lichhavis still stand today. The Lichchavis used specific suffixes to denote the Gods. Swami was used to denote Vishnu, Iswara to denote Shiva, Deva to denote Avatars, and Devakula to denote non-Aryan temples. Kirata temples that existed in the pre Lichhavi era have been referred to as Matindevkul, denoting the worship of a female (mother) goddess or deity.
It would be a stretch to seek ancient historical remnants to inspire Mangkhim design, but it does offer some useful information. A Mangkhim must always adhere to the principles of sacred architecture. Within the Mangkhim chambers, rituals are supposed to play a big part. Traditional Khambu households too become an integral part of rituals. If historical guidelines are not relevant anymore, we can still use simple architectural and traditional principles employed while building Khambu houses.
Tiered Khambu Hearthstones
‘All of these household rites, have in common the fact that they refer not only to the house as a social group but also equally to the house as such: in all of them, the latter becomes a temple’ – Martin Gaenszle, Origins and Migrations: Kinship Mythology and Ethnic Identity among the Mewahang Rai of East Nepal.
Architectural ideas, both correctly and incorrectly used in contemporary Mangkhims, are endless. Khambus must attempt to discover some guidelines. Of course, not all will agree that anything needs to be added to the main structure of the Mangkhim but placing the Suptulung hearthstones on the floor is vital if authentic traditions are to be preserved and reclaimed. This must be the first reform that the Khambus must undertake. Impractical tiered pyramid Suptulung is not primarily the result of overlooking traditions—however much those abound. No, such error is the result, quite simply, of Khambus not understanding the very concept of their own hearthstones.
A Mangkhim, in a way, defines Khambu identity today and is symbolic of their sacred traditions. How the tribe defines the sacred and their traditional identity is a question that is now up to the Khambu collective to answer.
When the earth came into being, an argument between Fire and Water ensued. Fire, with all its fury, roared, “I am the mightiest.”
Hearing the fire boast about its strength, Water replied, “No, I am the mightiest, much stronger than you.”
Fire retorted, “No, I am the mightiest. My power comes from the Sun -the one who can cause great drought and dry up your seas, rivers, and lakes.”
As the argument intensified, seething with anger, Water leaped forward to extinguish Fire. Startled, by this sudden physical action, Fire jumped back and ran. Water chased after Fire.
Fire reached up to a cliff. Water pursued it there. It reached a hill and Water was right behind. It seemed that Water wasn’t going to give up and had decided to extinguish Fire once and for all. Fire ran across the hills, forests, plains, and mountains and Water was still hot on its heels. Finally, it reached a cave where scattered on the ground were some Flintstones.
In a moment of desperation, Fire pleaded to a Flintstone, “Water is trying to kill me. I know that you have been with Water. Only you can save me now.”
Flintstone asked, “If I hide you within my body, what will I receive in return?”
Fire replied, “If you keep me inside your body, whenever human beings want it, they can bring me out to light up the world. If humans are ever haunted by evil spirits, their Shamans can hold you in their hands and vanquish evil powers. With me living inside you, humans will access my powers through you. If humans consider you the mother of Fire and place you right underneath their Hearthstones, their prayers will be answered and the spirit realm will be opened to them.”
Hearing this, the Flintstone, took Fire and placed it inside its body. Water arrived with its powerful waves and crashed into the cave. But Fire had already vanished inside the body of the Flintstone.
Sunuwar people, also known as Mukhia, are one of the four branches of the Kirati tribe. The term Sunuwar was used because they lived on the banks of the Sunkoshi River, while Mukhia is an Indo-Aryan term conferred upon by the Sen Kings. Today, they prefer to call themselves Koĩts in their mother tongue and are proud to identify themselves as Kirati-Koĩts. Kirati Koĩts follow the Mukdum which is equivalent to the Mundhum followed by Khambus and Limbus. While the Khambus lived in “Majh Kirat” and the Limbus in “Pallo Kirat”, the Kirati Koĩt people inhabited the Wallo Kirat Region that falls between the Sunkoshi and the Dudh Koshi Rivers. Their language called Koĩts Lo is about 90% similar to the language of the Bahing/Bayung Rai people.
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The Sunuwar cultural backdrop is highly imbued with ritual motifs, not just through traditions handed over by the ancestors, but by the perceived occupation of indiscernible entities, such as nature and ancestral spirits. Even as cultures have intermingled, traditions expanded, contemporary Sunuwar people use Shamanic knowledge to help them make sense of events occurring in their environment. Within the conceptual structure of memory and space predicated by Sunuwar Koĩts culture, the shaman transforms it into a reality by ritually influencing the transcendent forces perceived as the basis of cause and effect.
Among the systematic ceremonies occurring amid Sunuwar cultural domain, rituals are certainly the ones that hold great prominence and significance. The sociological approach to observing Sunuwar Koits traditions is primarily through a functional analysis of their rituals –domestic and public. These rituals and other cultural traditions help contribute to the survival of the society by promoting social integration and interaction.
Sunuwar traditions employ two different types of officiants for their rituals. There is a Naso/Nokso who is a performer of rituals and a Poinbo or Ngyami, who are shamans. A male shaman is known as Poinbo, and a female shaman is called Ngyami. A Naso isn’t a traditional shaman and is not capable of making a two-way communication between the spirit world and the human realm. However, he holds vast knowledge of the Koĩts Mukdum/Mundhum (ritual language, oral narrative) and performs rituals and invokes the ancestral spirits of respective Sunuwar lineage. This ritual language is also known as Salak or Salaku and intonated by both types of officiants. He can perform sacrificial rites and all traditional rituals.
Naso is a hereditary position and acquired by male offspring for a particular lineage. It is usually a father Naso, who grooms his son to take over the responsibility of rituals. The son has to memorize all ritual chants by a repetition of ritual procedures and through observation. This training and familiarization begin at a very young age. He will be required to learn about the oral traditions of the tribe and all the myths of his culture, from the elders. At the death of his father, it is he who has to carry out funerary rites.
Sunuwar people have developed coherent ritual classifications that originate with belief systems and creation myths, transmitted orally from one generation to the next. It is a Naso who performs these rituals in the community. He conducts all life-cycle rituals and public worship events like Syadar (Nature Worship) and Surom (Worship for prosperity). His main performance is the ancestor worship ritual called Chegu in which Yabre Gubre, the dead ancestral spirits are worshipped. The performance of the Sunuwar rituals serves to infuse, validate, and maintain the values of their traditions. It is a Naso who upholds these traditions through rituals.
In contrast, the position of the Poinbo or Ngyami is never hereditary. They are traditional shamans and only those who have been approached by the spirits through dreams and visions can become a Poinbo or Ngyami. These spirits, over time, impart wisdom and power to them.
Much like the Naso, shamans also undergo a period of training when they learn how to cultivate and interpret dreams and visions from an experienced shaman who will become their spiritual mentor. While the Naso operates and performs sacrificial rites during the daytime, the Poinbo or Ngyami perform their rites at night to reduce awareness of the surroundings outside his/her focus. It is also generally disclosed by shamans that they can see spirits better at night.
Poinbo or Ngyami usually perform séance and exorcise ghosts and evil spirits from the living. Their practice includes spiritual healing and appeasing or banishing wandering souls of those who have died an unnatural death. They are psychopomps who act as arbitrators between evil spirits and living, and their sphere of ritual practice is not limited to only the Sunuwar Koits. They are also employed by other communities for rites during ‘inauspicious’ events.
Naso and Poinbo/ Ngyami wear different costumes, utilize different percussive instruments and items of spiritual defense. A Naso uses his bow and arrow, one passed on by his father, while the Poinbo/ Ngyami use a wooden knife called Phurba. While both enjoy dissimilar powers and authority and have distinct individual journeys, during public rituals the Naso requires the help of the Puimbo or Ngiami to invoke and summon the spirits for whom the rite performed. When the ceremony is over, they also need to help the spirits return to the spirit realm.
For the Sunuwars who are spiritually pluralistic, rituals reflect and construct social, political, ethnic, and economic relationships. They represent the very center of the community, where sacred traditions and their cultural contexts become exceedingly significant. Sunuwar Koĩts liturgical traditions uncover the interwoven complexity marked by overlapping identities of tribe, ethnicity, and region. But these officiants simplify them by clearly demarcating and maintaining a great degree of distinctiveness. Sunuwar officiants are all connected and aligned for both are employed in the service of the community, and work within the sphere of ritual contexts.
The folk music of the Limbus is central to understanding their cultural elements, including their worldview, relationships, traditions, roles, and practices. For centuries, folk music has long been a traditional method of entertainment, but in the Himalayan region, it also encompasses mythical storytelling and the performance of rituals. Traditional music genres of the Limbu people include all of these components.
Much like that of other Himalayan indigenous communities, Limbu tribal music is traditionally vocal. Limbu folk songs are accompanied by performance and ceremony, which usually take place without written prompts, but they come from various generations of practiced and perfected interactions.` This autochthonous folk music also reflects the depth of the cultural concepts that exist within the tribe. It displays kinship structures, relationships, ritualistic beliefs, creation myths, and the creative function for relationships with physical and spiritual beings. Today, the Limbu community is utilizing and recreating their traditional culture with music as a medium of entertainment, which helps preserve ancient traditions in the modern age.
Ethnic Limbu folksongs are called Samlo. There are a variety of folksong genres, but Palam Samlo always tops the Limbu repertoire. Palam is sung while doing chores, working in the fields, or during social events like weddings and festivals. But it is associated the most with Yalang (Paddy Dance). It is a commonly held notion that after harvest, the people would gather at a particular house. Here they held hands, formed a circle, and went around while stamping upon the paddy to extract rice grains. This dance would later be accompanied by songs that ultimately became Palam.
For an open-eared listener, traditional Limbu music is not difficult to enjoy. Even if you do not understand the language, repeated hearings of these songs will gradually reveal the subdued, haunting melody enfolded in their carefully tuned forms. At its core, traditional Limbu songs serve as repositories and disseminators of lifestyle, knowledge, and traditions. Limbu folksong genres such as Palam, Sarek, and Khayali, while being traditionally recreational, also depict social life, and emphasize a balance of intellectual, emotional, and spiritual processes.
Limbu people categorize the Palam genre into four forms or moods. There is one that denotes flirtation and courting in the form of riddles. The second form is about love in its purest essence. The third form represents love and proposal for marriage. The fourth one describes human life as flowers. This assists young men and women to subtly declare that their destiny is to realize emotions and love. The essence of Palam is to exchange feelings of love and affection and experience pain and pleasure through a heart-touching song, sung in harmony.
Palam Samlo, initially intended as paddy dance, has become incredibly popular over the years. Limbu traditional songs, which are centuries-old, still bring the community together for social activities or ceremonies. But in time, there have been changes in its form and tempo. Palam has now been divided into Sakpa Palam, played with a faster beat, and the Khemba Palam, on a slower beat. As Limbu society evolved, their music has diversified into various genres that bear both social and religious contexts.
Khayali is another popular genre among the Limbus. It is a duet that is a casual exchange between male and female vocalists. These songs are dialogues, witty repartees between two singers. In Khayali or Palam, the meter remains constant within the tune. Its rhythm, which uses syncopation, is usually relatively uncomplicated. There is extended use of vibrato. In many instances, the instruments are dominated by vocals. This occurs because the lyrics and emotions become larger than the music itself. The form is generally strophic where each stanza is sung over the same music. Strophic forms in music exist because they are iterative. These are songs that consist of short sections of music that have been repeated countless times throughout history.
Many other types of Limbu folksongs exhibit their daily activities. These are songs that have been transferred from one generation to another. There are wedding and farming songs that help deconstruct the parameters that define their society. All genres of Limbu folk music present a different understanding of their lifestyle. Where there are general folksongs, we can also find numerous ritual song genres among the Limbu people. These are a part of Limbu Mundhum (oral narrative) and always accompany life-cycle rituals. Limbus has always ascribed spiritual importance to these rituals through their songs.
According to various sources, apart from Palam and Khayali Limbus classify their song (samlo) genres into the following:
Hakpare – Spiritual song sung only by women. Namdatte Kehsam – Wedding Song Domke Akma – Sung while working Thakptham – Sung while moving into a new house Nisammang Sewa – Devotional song accompanied by performance Mingwan – Ritual song while naming a new-born Tamkye – Sung while cultivating the fields Agnekwa Sammet – Lullaby
Limbu folksongs demonstrate that music plays a fundamental role in influencing, defining, and maintaining tribal cultures. Renowned Limbu folk singers continue to emerge with artistic collaborations to create space for identity building through indigenous music. So while other forms of culture may be challenging to preserve, Limbu folksongs are still popular and perhaps will be able to maintain and balance their cultural constructs through traditional music.
Khambu shamanic tradition states that a Shaman (Mangpa/Nakchhong) is chosen by the spirits and that this selection happens when one is born with awakened consciousness or energy. This consciousness, known as “Chhi” or “Chha” is supposedly capable of accessing vibrations that are subjectively defined as a psycho-spiritual effect, experienced as an intense stirring within and through oneself. The Khambus explain this as the receiving of an external spirit into the body, however briefly. These embodied agencies or spirits are independent entities who either incarnate to fulfill their agendas or can be summoned at the will of the Shaman. Such contact with spirits always occurs in altered states of consciousness.
There are several types of Khambu Shamans or Mangpas. There are Nakchhongs who can only perform household lineage rituals or the ones who can conduct Lam Pakma, the rites of passage and seance. Some have the capability of performing Sakela rituals, while others can perform exorcism involving external entities, unrelated to the clan. The ‘flower’ Shaman, Bungpenmi/Bungmangpa, however, is the most inimitable one. He is unique, for he views life essence as flowers and heals the ailing, using it. Bungpenmis are very rare among a host of different types of Shamans in the Kirat Khambu Rai tribe. Bungpenmis revere Budahang- a divine ancestral spirit.
For the Bungpenmi, the human body is embellished with imperceptible, rare flowers found in the mountains, hills, and plains. An impure body could cause these flowers to move from their usual position, or wither away, thereby creating health problems. For mental composure and good health, these body flowers need to be in their correct spots. The Khambu concept of life essence or life breath is centered around different levels of souls, all equally important for physical and spiritual well-being. Various levels of conscious and subconscious spiritual essence such as Lawa, Saya, Nungwa, Sakma, Sakon, and the physical body, function as one unit to give life and health to an individual. This unit must remain intact and whole for spiritual, mental, and physical health.
The shamanic concept of illness is usually about the loss of vital essence (saato haraunu) or some individual dishonor (seer dhalnu), which can occur for various reasons, including fright, a transgression, or a play of negative energies. Other illness reasons could include the consequences of external intrusion in the body. When a person is afflicted with such, the invisible flowers on the body are displaced, and the Bungpenmi must make appropriate adjustments. This healing ritual is called Bungwa Bakma.
Bungwa Bakma is performed right after Sakela Dongdawa (Descending Period/Udhauli). The Bungpenmi has an apprentice called Chuptungmi, who also has an assistant called Dengsungmi. They help the Bungpenmi collect rare Himalayan flowers required for this ritual. These flowers, essential to the rite, usually grow on the most remote terrains of the Himalayan foothills. Bungpenmis have a list of 362 flowers that only they can identify with precision. Since these flowers will be used in the ritual to honor Budahang, the Bungpenmi must sing the Mundhum (ritual language) to explain and justify the picking of these flowers to the divine spirit. Thus, while collecting them, the Bungpenmi is in a constant Shamanic trance as he repeatedly keeps chanting the Mundhum. An error could be fatal to the physical well-being of the Bungpenmi and his assistants. This marks the beginning of the Shaman’s spiritual journey and the success of the ritual, therefore, falls not only on the Shaman’s ritual chanting but also on his ability to pick the right flowers. Finding specific flowers is imperative to the success of the ritual’s outcome. Special care is demanded to avoid ‘impurities’. A flower, once plucked, must be covered with its own leaves, before being collected in a bag.
Before the ritual, everyone gathers at the house of the clan elder to finalize the appropriate date for the ritual. Usually, the village elder’s house will be chosen as the venue for Bungwa Bakma. The entire village participates in the welcoming, hosting, and managing of the ritual. Select members of the house that hosts the ritual, must take alcohol-filled dried gourd (Wabuk/Chindo) to the Bungpenmi to summon him. The Bungpenmi agrees to the date and the venue and gives his word to be there for the ritual. Extended family members are invited on the suggestion of the Bungpenmi The invited members will bring alcohol, ginger, and rice grains as offerings. These offerings come from female members and are called Chhetkusaya.
The occasion possesses a certain solemnity. A feast is prepared, the house and the hearth are cleaned and purified, and the participants wait for the Shaman. The Bungpenmi arrives carrying the flower basket (Bungwa Paanti), and the assistant holds the bag filled with flowers. They are greeted with a gourd full of alcohol each. Traditional Khambu white turban, Sayabung, is placed over their heads to honor them. The assistant will then distribute the alcohol among them all for a drink. After a drink, the Bungpenmi asks for formal permission from the family to begin the ritual. This ritual, which lasts a day, shows that ancestral spiritual energy is the ultimate source of authority as the rules of the ritual demand absolute precision. For a moment, the Shaman exists only as a human representative of a tradition that relies, above all, on the transcendent source of ancestral spiritual energy.
Before the ritual begins, a bed of banana leaves is laid out before the Hearthstones (Suptulung)- the sanctum sanctorum of the Kirati Khambus. Rice grains, ginger, and a gourd full of alcohol are placed nearby. Another banana leaf is placed atop to cover them. Upon that leaf, more rice grains, ginger, and required flowers are spread out. To the left side of these two leveled offerings, there is a grail of water. Green sprigs of the Castanopsis plant (Chille Kattus) soak in this water. The ritual also requires millet beer (Charima Wasim) in a cup and in a traditional wooden grail called Kathuwa. The Bungpenmi, who now begins his role as the officiant, is seated before the altar and begins the rite. Chanting the Mundhum ritual speech, he verifies the presence of the tutelary spirit and begins the divinatory phase of the ritual. The ritual flowers are employed to look into the past, present, and future.
The Bungpenmi organizes the flowers upon the Banana leaf sequentially, concerning its usefulness and symbolism. He then holds the flower container while chanting the Mundhum ritual speech relentlessly. At each instance that a Bungpenmi mentions a flower, the assistant picks up that particular flower and gives it to him. At different periods, the rite allows for a brief break (Tumdhama). Some alcohol is imbibed as an offering. At this moment, the flower container is placed underneath the ritual altar. These are small relational nodes of connection between souls and the flowers where the Bungpenmi collectively converses with the divine spirit in an autonomous yet coordinated way.
Beginning with the father, the Bungpenmi, following exact hierarchical order, asks for the clan, lineage, and origins (Pacha, Samet, Sohon) of everyone present. The daughters and other young participants place rice grains and money as offerings to be utilized along with the flowers for divination. By slicing the Ginger Rhizome (Kachur), the Shaman attempts to obtain precise information about the nature and seriousness of any problem that could have come upon the family members. Owing to this information, the Shaman uses the physical, tangible flowers to see and transform the center of gravitation for all realities and reposition and align all imperceptible flowers, thereby healing all ailments.
Outside the house, a rooster has to be sacrificed. Its blood cannot touch any of Budahang’s flowers. In evoking the connection between the transcendent forces and the ritual, the motif of the Rooster offering also leads us to consider another basic theme, characteristic of Bungwa Bakma. While the flowers are for the declared purpose of calling the attention of the Budahang spirit, the aim of the Rooster offering, at this phase, is to appease the presence of other divine entities that have somehow permeated into the ritual space. The myth says:
Waarihang and Kumdapuhang are the other names of Budahang. Badetkumma and Saisakumma are his two wives. These two wives did not get along with each other. The Mundhum says that the other name of Badetkumma is Dolokumma. There was once a fight between Badetkumma (Dolokumma) and Saisakumma where they used magical powers against each other. In the duel, Dolokumma attacked Saisakumma’s vision and blinded her. From that day onwards, Saisakumma’s suffering became eternal. She also crawls because she cannot walk.
While worshipping Budahang, the flowers that represent him are positioned near the Hearthstones. Similarly, Dolokumma is also worshipped inside the house. Only the Rooster sacrificial rite is performed outside to appease Saisakumma. While worshipping Saisakumma, the Bungpenmi, to emulate the suffering of the divine female spirit, crawls up to the threshold for the sacrificial rite. The tradition of rooster sacrifice, in honor of Saisakumma, besides conceptually catering to the idea of revering the ancestor spirit, can also be inferred as a ritual connected with the space in which the healing takes place. The surrounding becomes a manifestation of human empathy, the realm within which Khambu rites find a form of human expression. This rite is to relieve the suffering of Saisakumma, which will, in return, ultimately help heal the suffering of the living.
While crawling outside, the Bungpenmi carries a flower container, a gourd or grail of water, and chants the Mundhum continuously. This part of the ritual is also known as Saisla. Now alcohol and water are offered and Kachur is carried out. The ritual has animated the surrounding space to allow for healing. The conceptual opposition between well-being and suffering has been ratified by ritual. Now, the Bungpenmi has to aid the return of the invoked ancestral spirits. At the end of the session, all the items employed during the ritual are gathered and taken towards the north, and duly honoured with libations of beer. The participants all drink a little alcohol and eat the Rooster meat as offerings.
The ritual, that sees an ailment as an unstable apparatus detrimental to humans, thus transforms, as a self-correcting attribute of nature, into a potent process at human disposal to urge the ancestor spirits to exchange for their offerings, the gift of well-being. Bungwa Bakma demonstrates that it is through the will of the Bungpenmi that men can utilize to their exclusive advantage, the obligations stemming from this correlation of ritual exchange.
