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Kachhalā Pyākhan : Fusion of Animism and Tradition

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Uncategorized, Newar Culture. No Comments on Kachhalā Pyākhan : Fusion of Animism and Tradition

Each year, as autumn deepens and the ancient courtyards of Patan brace for the approach of winter, a timeless tradition comes to life- the Kachhalā Pyākhan, widely known as Kartik Naach. This is a profound cultural and religious ritual that intricately weaves together Newar myth, folklore, and history. Today, this vibrant tradition has blossomed into a powerful symbol of Patan’s timeless cultural identity, its continued vitality serving as a testament to the Newar community’s remarkable ability to preserve age-old customs while adapting to the complexities of modern life.

The origins of Kachhalā Pyākhan trace back to the 17th century, during the reign of King Siddhi Narsingha Malla, although some argue that its roots stretch even further into the past. Yet, it is impossible to overlook the undeniable connection between Kachhalā Pyākhan and the cultural sway of the Malla kings, whose patronage of the arts was instrumental in forging the distinct Newar cultural identity we recognize today.

The ritualistic dance performance (Pyākhan) may trace its form to a pre-Hindu, pre-Buddhist shamanic tradition, rooted in a chthonic understanding where members of a particular social cluster (Guthi) invoke ancestral and protective deities. Through honoring their territorial deities (Agam Dya) and tutelary deities (Dugu dya), they seek to consecrate and reaffirm their deep connection to the land. This ritualistic invocation, while aligning with the Hindu concept of Leela and the Buddhist Charya Nritya/Cham, creates a sacred affiliation to their terrain, forming a core element in how they define and relate to their living space. Thus, Kachhalā Pyākhan, can also be viewed a cultural ritual that transforms Patan’s public spaces into sacred arenas. By performing this dance-drama in the heart of Patan, the Newars reinforce a powerful connection to place and community, highlighting the territorial significance embedded in Newar identity.

In broader cultural terms, the Newars of the Kathmandu valley have long preserved this practice of mapping and sanctifying their living spaces through ritual performance. These rituals, covered in myth, animistic practices, and Buddhist and Hindu elements, redefine local spaces into protective, spiritual domains. Therefore, Kachhala Pyakhan isn’t simply a historical or religious tradition but a continuous assertion of cultural and territorial identity that helps define the Newars as distinctly ‘localized’ and ‘territorial.’

The performance was originally a two-day event centered on the religious stories of the Hindu God Vishnu, drawn from the Harivamsa Purana and the Mahabharata. Initially, it’s intention was both educational and devotional but over time, successive rulers of Patan expanded the event, transforming it into a month-long dramatic cycle, which also included sub-events that satirized contemporary social and political issues. Performed during the month of Kartik—the eighth month of the Hindu lunar calendar that usually falls in October or November—the festival coincides with the harvest season, making it a time of celebration, thanksgiving, and spiritual renewal.

The performance takes place on the Kartik Dabali, an elevated platform next to the Krishna Mandir in Patan Durbar Square. Here, participants, mostly from the Newar community, come together to enact the mythological narratives through colorful costumes, rhythmic drumming, and complex dance movements. The performance becomes a ritual of communal participation, bringing together dancers, musicians, and ritual specialists to animate divine stories. This communal aspect of the event not only underscores the collective identity of the Newars but also highlights the deep interconnection between their land, religious devotion and cultural expression.

At the core of Kachhalā Pyākhan lies the mythology of the Vishnu, whose avatars, particularly Narasimha, are brought to life through dramatic dance. This sacred dance, particularly the portrayal of Narasimha’s divine intervention, resonates with a deeper animistic dimension, where the human performers do not merely play roles but become vessels or mediums for divine power. The embodiment of the gods through dance allows for the communication of sacred knowledge, strengthening the bond between the community and the divine. The real-life effects of this sacred invocation are felt in the performance itself as the performers, through their embodiment of the deities, bring the sacred into the realm of the living, ensuring the cosmic order is maintained through the ritual.

In this sense, Kartik Naach can be seen as an intensely animistic ritual, where the boundary between the human and the divine is fluid, and the gods are not mere abstractions but active participants in the lives of the people. The dance, music, and rituals do not simply retell ancient stories—they invite the divine to enter a physical space, allowing the gods to communicate their will through the movements of the performers. This ritual interaction with the divine evokes a shamanic quality, where the performers act as mediators between the human realm and the spiritual world. Their bodies become conduits for the sacred, channeling divine power and infusing the community with blessings and protection.

The symbolic use of dance (pyakhan), mask (khwapa), and sacred ritual is further amplified through what seems to be a tantric practice. These practices associated with the performance introduce layers of mysticism, where specific rituals—such as the symbolic death and revival of Hiranyakashipu (the demon king)—are enacted with profound realism. The enactment of Hiranyakashipu’s unconscious state, followed by his revival through the ritualistic use of water from the Manga Hiti spout, creates a powerful imagery of life, death, and rebirth. This dramatic cycle symbolizes not only the mythological triumph of good over evil but also the community’s belief in the cyclical nature of existence, where death is not an end but a transition back to life.

This animistic and shamanic dimension of Kachhala Pyakhan is further emphasized through its connection to the broader spectrum of Newar rituals, which often include spirits, ghosts, and supernatural forces. Much like shamans who communicate with spirits to maintain harmony in their communities, the performers of Kachhala Pyakhan invite divine forces into the ritual space, ensuring the cosmic balance between the earthly and spiritual realms is maintained. This convergence of myth, ritual, and divine intervention is a central feature of Newar culture, where the spiritual is never separated from the social and cultural fabric of everyday life. The mythological figures, through their dance and dramatic enactment, are not passive representations but actively shape the world around them, guiding the community’s understanding of morality, history, and identity.

Kachhalā Pyākhan carries profound cultural significance, as it embodies the values of the Newar community, particularly in its ability to blend religious devotion with critical social commentary. This component of the dance illustrates the ability to balance reverence with practicality, offering both spiritual and societal lessons in one unified performance. The interactions between these characters often employ humor, satire, and folklore to deliver moral lessons that resonate with contemporary social issues, showcasing the Newar people’s capacity to engage critically with their own traditions while preserving the sacred narratives that form the bedrock of their identity.

Kartik Naach’s continued relevance accentuates the resilience of Newar culture. Despite the modernizing forces of globalization and technological advancements, the ritual’s core—the communal gathering, the sacred space, the embodied myth—remains unchanged. However, this continuity is not static as it reflects a dynamic adaptation of traditional practices to the needs and realities of the present. This adaptation can be seen in the evolving organizational structures of the event, which now rely on community-based organizations rather than royal patronage, yet still maintain the core principles of religious and cultural devotion.

The historical and political aspects of Kachhalā Pyākhan are deeply intertwined with the social dynamics of its time, revealing layers of animistic roots that permeate its performance. Originally, it functioned as a tool for asserting royal power and prestige, with the Malla kings using it not only as entertainment but as a form of political propaganda to reinforce their authority. The performance became an embodiment of the sacred connection between the rulers and the land, invoking deities to protect the kingdom and its people. Over time, it absorbed satirical elements that critiqued the prevailing political and social climate, evolving into a platform for public discourse. While the overt political messages may have faded, the ritual’s animistic underpinnings remain intact, continuing to express the tensions between tradition and modernity—especially as it faces contemporary challenges. The animistic practice of invoking spirits and deities continues to infuse the performance, grounding it in an ongoing conversation between the past and present.

In contemporary society, Kachhalā Pyākhan stands as a living archive of Newar culture, history, and collective memory—its very essence rooted in animism. Each reenactment of the performance is not merely a theatrical retelling but a ritual of transmission, where the physicality of dance, music, and dramatic depiction carries ancestral myths, beliefs, and values from one generation to the next. This sacred act reaffirms the Newars’ spiritual bond with their ancestors, deities, and the land they inhabit. Through the ritual’s animistic lens, every movement, gesture, and song invokes the presence of spirits and ancestral forces, highlighting a territorial connection to the physical space. Thus, Kachhala Pyakhan is not just a performance; it is a vital mechanism through which Newar identity and territoriality are continuously asserted.

As such, it serves as a dynamic medium of cultural expression, where folklore and myth are not stagnant relics of the past, but lively traditions that adapt and evolve according to the needs and concerns of the present. This animistic ritual thrives as a participatory event, shaping the social, cultural, and religious landscape of Patan and the Kathmandu Valley. Through its vivid dance, music, and storytelling, Kachhalā Pyākhan bridges the past and present, reiterating the sacred bond between the Newar people, their ancestors, and the land they live upon. In this way, the performance endorses the enduring relevance of tradition, demonstrating how animistic practices can preserve and adapt cultural heritage for future generations.

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.

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.

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.

Limbu Nahangma Ritual: The Quest for Life Spark

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“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. 

Tamang Marriage: Mock Capture and Negotiation

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“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.

Khyah – The Newari Ghost

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‘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.

Ritual Officiants of Sunuwar Koĩts People

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Koĩts Culture. No Comments on Ritual Officiants of Sunuwar Koĩts People

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. 

Folk Music of the Limbu People

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Limbu Culture. 1 Comment on Folk Music of the Limbu People

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. 

The Inimitable Khambu “Flower” Shaman

Written by Pradeep Rai on . Posted in Khambu Culture. No Comments on The Inimitable Khambu “Flower” Shaman

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.