National 11 (Spotlight Weekly)

Photography and Girl Power

Photography in Nepal has historically been the near exclusive domain of men. But not for much longer if Manju Shrestha has anything to do with it.

By Joe Bavier

It's 11 am on a Saturday, a studio day for Manju Shrestha and a select group of his young pupils, and the influential photographer-cinematographer is dutifully quizzing a young protégée on the technical aspects of setting up a shot.

Manju Shrestha : Champion of Equality

“Aperture?”

“Eight.”

“Shutter speed?”

“Sixty.”

After twenty years with the Nepali Film Corporation, during which he gained renown for producing or directing such cinematic classics as “Daiba Sanjog”, “Nayak”, and “Bar Peepal”, Shrestha's latest undertaking is a step into the unknown. The new group of students is like none he's ever worked with. And he's loving every minute of it.

“I'm enjoying so much what I'm doing,” he says, keeping an watchful eye fixed on the underprivileged young woman who is peering through the viewfinder of an old manual Nikon 35mm SLR. “For me, it's become my passion.”

And it's a passion that's come to be shared by the young women from the Padma Kanya high school just down the street who've been given the opportunity to learn a difficult trade from one of its masters. Of the dozen or so that are attending the weekend session, all hands go up when asked if any plan to pursue a career in the field after they finish their last year at school.

The idea for the program, dubbed “Women in Photography”, came to 53-year-old Shrestha like a thunderbolt one day after an encounter with a young American who'd come to Nepal to set up programs for the poor.

“I was very inspired,” he says. The meeting got Shrestha thinking, and, looking back on his own career, he realized that in his thirty-five years in cinema and still photography, he had never worked with a woman.

“In Nepal, there are very few female photographers,” he says. “It's a very traditional, very conservative society. They face many difficulties from the family trying to get into the profession.”

So, eight months ago, Shrestha set out on a one-man mission he hopes will change the face of professional photography in Nepal forever. Using his own funds, equipment, and studio, he approached Padma Kanya School, which was nearby and had no budget for extra-curricular activities, to set up his pilot project. The results have been truly astounding.

From an original group of a handful of girls, “Women in Photography” has branched out to now include some hundred students. Classes in photography are now held nearly every day of the school week. Hands on instruction in his studio takes place three times a week. And a project that he hoped would reach a few eager pupils is now Shrestha's full-time job.

But he's not complaining. Far from it. In fact, he's already planning the next expansion.

“I want to take it out into the hills and rural areas,” he says, adding that, in the future, he also would like to include videography and cinematography in the curriculum. All of this will, of course, take money. And, as a program which has subsisted on private contributions and Shrestha's own financing, money is something “Women in Photography” simply doesn't have.

But Shrestha isn't about to give up his plan. He's already dealt with the worst of the hurdles he feels, not least of which has been convincing parents and family members that what their daughters are doing is worthwhile.

Gathered in the studio this Saturday morning are perhaps the future stars of Nepali cinema and photography. There are potential directors, photojournalists, social photographers, and producers. Due to Nepal's lack of teaching facilities in the field, most will have to go abroad to continue their education. But all say they plan to return.

“It's a good career,” Shrestha says. “Men just see it as a job. Women are different. They can easily capture the natural stories that women face, so they can then convey them to other women. That can teach other women. They can earn money to support their families. They want to use this to help their families. And the confidence they've gained on this program will help them in anything they do.”

For Manju Shrestha, the benefits of his project will likely never yield a monetary payoff. He never expects it to. His rewards, though less tangible, are all the more valuable. And so far, he's collected about a hundred of them.

“I already have two sons,” he says with a smile. “And now, I have every kind of daughter.”