The mystery

-Pushpa Acharya

The morning was cold and frosty and the sun was still behind the mountains. The previous night he had a dream - he was making a toy of clay, she came floating in the air and threw it towards the moon; the moon collapsed the toy. Lying near the fire, he thought why she had not come. “Three nights - she should have come!” He looked at the dying fire and added some pieces of wood. After a while, he again fell asleep. When woke, he found the first bright rays of the sun entering his thatch, then, comming out. The mysterious mountains shone like a seductive lady smiling at people around her.

He had been alone here taking care of a large flock of sheep, three dogs and the land the landlord owned. Of course, it was difficult trying to make the ends meet but he never felt so. Solitude and difficulty - they could not trouble him. He found his companionship in the dogs and the sheep, and the nature and surroundings were his beloved. He was loyal and truthful and here — a half-day walk from his village, he no doubt, had proved himself a faithful lover, too.

Some twenty days before, at a place near the forest he had met her. He was playing a flute. (You should have known already that he was the best flute player in the village). To his surprise, walking peacefully on a slow and steady pace, from the woods, she came right before his eyes. Was it not like a dream? It seemed as if he had enchanted her with his flute. He stopped playing the flute, he looked at her eccentrically attractive eyes. He had never heard of any girl in this secluded place; there, if he was correct, lived nobody but a few shepherds. She told him that her father and she lived somewhere inside the woods near a small stream. Because of some reason, they were ostracised from a neighbouring village. Her father did not want to settle in any other village. She felt lonely living in such a place and wandered around  her melancholy. Listening to his flute, she had come here, he, at first felt pity but then it slowly developed into love. He played a sweet tune on the flute. She listened meditatively, admired him and vanished in the woods. There was something in her, which attracted him. Day and evening, even the night became depressing for it was her countenance that reflected in his mind all the time.

For about a week, she came to listen to his flute. Gradually, he found her more pretty and loving; her beauty, her odour and her voice turned out to be his obsession. Then again after another week, their secret meeting under the moonlit sky started. She would come in the evening and return early in the morning. Every night was sweet and warm — filled with love divine and energy cosmic. The moments pleasant and the time timeless. She, only she, was what he longed for years, and now found.

She said, “Continuing with our secret meeting is no longer possible for me . If the secret were to be discovered, my father would make hell break loose”. If the other shepherds came to know about it they would consider her a disrespectful girl. So, he and the shepherd decided to marry. She went to talk to her father forbidding him to come after her. This seemed peculiar but he said nothing. He waited for her for three nights, but she did not turn up.

At noon, he played the flute and slept on the soft earth for a while. He forgot all about the sheep-flock which had already reached quite a distance away. Suddenly, he felt a warm caress on his forehead. He opened his eyes. It was she, sitting close to him — smiling and staring at him with her head bent down and her hair falling over her shoulder.

Her father unexpectedly fell ill and she could not come, that was her explanation to him. Her father had agreed to their nuptial on a condition that they would stay in the woods leaving the village far behind. He had promised to come to meet his would be son-in-law the following day. The shepherd accepted the plan and was so glad that he kissed her and decided to call his friends for a drinking party. Astonishingly, she opposed the idea sturdily and looked very furious. But he was impossible and she looked at him with wrathful eyes.

In the evening, he prepared the fire outside their thatch. Though extremely unhappy she prepared the food for the party. He arranged for some wine, bamboo cups and the food trays. While making arrangements, he even swallowed a cup of wine into a single gulp.

With the fall of darkness the shepherds arrived. One after another the bamboo cups were emptied and again filled. Laughter and their voices echoed, as the hours of darkness approached. Above, the mysterious rays of the moon beamed and there was happiness and eerieness all around. A little further, the foxes and jackals were howling constantly.  In reply, the dogs continuously barked raising their head towards the sky.  Below the moon and the stars, the shepherds’ thirst for wine did not decrease; instead their want seemed to increase along with every gulp. He had no choice but to serve dinner to the guests as she was in no mood to play a cheerful host.

At last, he announced that he was going to be engaged to the girl who prepared the food. Dizzily, they all congratulated him and joyfully listened to his story; then, they departed with a love song on their lips.

When he entered the thatch, he found her smiling. She begged for forgiveness and locked her intoxicating eyes into his. He fell prey to her seduction and he could not resist the temptation. He kissed her hard leaving her breathless.

The following afternoon, a fellow shepherd came there to look for his cap that he had left behind. He found the cap at a spot where the fire had turned into ashes. He looked for his friend and inside the thatch found him dead — cold, white and bloodless. There was no trace of the girl mentioned last night. Then, he called the other shepherds.

They searched for the girl everywhere, in the village, in the woods that their friend had described last night, but there was no trace of her. His body was taken to the village. The girl and her father were searched everywhere. But it was a futile effort. They had never  been noticed in the sorrounding villages, this is what everybody had to say.

Holi celebration

Chandra Kumar Phuyal

As we listen to the chirping of birds and see the blooming buds, we realise that spring  has come. The wind is no longer chilly and the sunrays warm us up. Fruit trees are ready to flower, rivers are calm. The thunder of the clouds has hidden behind the full smile of the sun. In the meantime, we all Hindus are busy celebrating a great festival in different names: Holi, Fagu, festival of colour and Fagu Purne.

According to  legend, a king named Hiranyakashyapu made everyone -- from humans to gods tremble for he had attained immortality by the grace of providence. Hiranyakashyapu tolerated no god other than himself in his country. He had a son named Prahlad who was a devotee of Lord Vishnu and a rebel of the country.

Since his son was an icon of devotion in Vaishnavism tradition, Hiranyakashyapu decided to kill him. Despite his   continuous efforts, Prahlad continued to survive in flesh and blood. At last he appealed to his sister Holika to assist him since she had the grace of remaining unscorched even when set afire and she could use the power to burn the child in a pyre. But, the grace given to her by Bramha was to use it only good deeds. As she couldn’t refuse her brother’s request, she jumped into the pyre with the child Prahlad in her arms. Providence intervened and devotion of the child saved him while Holika was set ablaze in the fire.

Brahma graced the seedling of creativity, dissent, change, faith and devotion. Ever since, the celebration has taken place on the occasion of the victory of good over evil.

According to another popular narrative — when Ram was on his way to Ayodhya after his much anticipated victory over Ravan, there was an excited crowd with Abir in their hands. When he arrived there, the people began to jump in joy throwing abir all over him, celebrating his victory with colour . It is said that the triumph is Abir Jatra (the fare of the red powder). Then, from that day on, we have been celebrating this festival as a remembrance of that day.

This festival is celebrated throughout Nepal though the celebration is more intense in Terai. Everybody looks very busy in celebrating for it is believed that those who live play with colour, those who die are remembered. During the day a group of people sing in praise of lord Shiva going from house to house and reach a crescendo when they sing of the love between Shiva - Parvati and Radha - Krishna. The Holi folk songs reverberate in the air some days before Holi. People seem to be busy smearing colour on each other and houses become colourful.

In Mithila, Janakpur, Mithila Parikarma takes the honored deities of Janakpur to the door steps of devotees and worshippers, whereas the worshippers seem to be painted with colours. The traditional way of celebrating Holi at Chir Daha or Holika Daha, is to build a bonfire on the outskirts of the village near ponds or tanks. The procession proceeds to the bonfire ground with all the solemnity of a religious act for it is believed that pride, prejudice, selfishness, greed etc is burned away by the flames on the pyre.

Everybody likes to play Holi spontaneously with Pichkari (a pump to force the coloured liquid in and out) and Abir and begin singing the song Holile Rangayo Mero Choli and Holilese vige chunarwali ranga barse. It is more important for lovers since fagu is a day to add colour to their lives. Inhibitions are easily loosened on this day.  Ordinary people, children, women, young girls, farmers, business men, workers, students, all feel free to play Holi as it is still part of our society. There is discrimination among people to play Holi on the basis of castes, status and rank.  We must understand that Fagu is the day to celebrate the brotherhood of men regardless of rank, wealth and status. Moreover, there are some who spoil the fun of Holi. Badmash youths throw balloons filled with dirty water and colours to pedestrians. Is this how Holi should be enjoyed? The boys especially do not spare young innocent girls. Is that the real way of enjoying Holi? No, obviously not. When the essence of a festival is lost, it becomes a meaningless ritual. So the government should pay more heed in bringing the activities under control. Let’s hope today's Holi celebrations will be more enjoyable to one and all.

Sriyantra Mandala

Damodar Gautam

The National Art Gallery is not only famous for the collection of remarkable stone images but is also famous for the collection of antique thankas and poubhas. Among these collections, Mandala is a form of art which has cultural and religious norms. It is said that the yantra is the tool of ritual meditation, the power diagram which allows man to make a spiritual journey of return to the premodial centre and finally the union of self with the cosmos. The Sanskrit text Samarangam Dharmastra (eleventh century A D) speaks about the making of Shriyantra Mandala and also its operation. Mystic yantras have three principles; the form principle (Akritirupa), the function principle (kriyarupa) and the power principle (Shaktirupa). The Mandala is considered the greatest of all mantras, which displays the splendour of Shiva Shakti in its manifestation in order to create the root principle of life. One of the earliest surviving specimens of Shriyantra is preserved in the religious institution Shringari math established by the philosopher-saint Shanker in the eight century A D.The hymn from the Atharva Veda (1200 BC) contains a description of a yantra-like figure composed like the Sriyantra of nine geometrical permutations.

The Sriyantra is one of the chief instruments of instruction of the Srividya (form of worship), which consists of fifteen syllable mantra representing the supreme divine power manifested as a form of the universe.

The Sriyantra traditionally is a journey to the nine stages and each stage corresponds with one of the nine circuits of which the yantra is composed. Starting from the outer square and moving inwards, the nine rings bear specific names, related to their characteristics.

At the periphery of the Sriyantra, the Square contemplates its own passions such as anger, fear, loss etc in order to overcome or conquer them. The eight psychological tendencies that are considered obstacles to the mind are also invoked as eight Matrices Shakti in the second line of outer periphery.

The second represents the chakras of the subtle body — five elements, ten senses and mind. Each petal is presided over by a deity of attraction who stimulates our senses through our bodily faculties, which leave us spell bound at the beginning of our spiritual journey.

The eight petalled lotus, governs speech locomotion, enjoyment,  and feelings of rejection, acceptance and indifference. The fourth, fifth, sixth triangles of the Sriyantra symbolically illustrate the subtle nerves and modification of the vital energy which regulates the vitality of the subtle body. The seventh and eighth triangle circuit represents the three constituent principles of materialistic nature.

The ninth chakra Tripurasundari is the symbol of final release. The centre deity makes the end of the spiritual pilgrimage.

Story of the Ranas A Chronicle of Rana Rule

By Pramode Shamshere Rana

Price Rs 450

One of the few strands of Nepalese history which draws much attention from readers is the Rana rule (1846-1951).Not that the country’s history of the other eras does not inspire us at all.

But when we talk about the Rana period in particular, we are talking about timeless conspiracies among the members of the same clan to grab power and unleash terror.

And, like other books on the Rana period, this book too, takes us on a journey into the corridors of power and Ranas’ harems.

The book commences with the emergence of Ranas in the country’s political scenario following a three-year-long turmoil after Queen Rajya Laxmi usurped power from weak King Rajendra Bikram Shah.

A great schemer—Jung Bahadur Rana—had emerged as the undisputed figure following, at times, immature steps on the part of royalty and the courtiers of the time, after he had successfully eliminated all rivals.

He was in for a long innings until 1877 and did spadework for a truly dictatorial political system ever.

Jung Bahadur Rana — an outstandingly brilliant persona — left whoever he met impressed for good and bad reasons alike. The book shows how. As someone who had an opinion on almost everything, he was also, in his own way, a social reformer and had enforced semblance of laws which were unheard of before.

Next who succeeded was Ranaudip whose rule lasted until 1885. A deeply religious person, he was detached from governing which was done by Dhir Shamshere, who too, did not last long enough.

What follows is eternal wrangle between descendants of Jung Bahadur and  that of Dhir Shamshere.

Then comes Bir Shamshere after a big political shake up and lasted until 1901. This put an end to Jung Bahadur’s dream of monopolising the succession spree among his sons and grandsons in what may be said to be a bone of contention among the clans.

Then the writer comes around Shamshere trio — Dev Shamshere, Chandra Shamshere and Bhim Shamshere.

While the former was deposed unceremoniously within three months, Chandra Shamshere went to occupy the post until 1929 owing to sheer force. He was someone who wielded tremendous power and went on to become close to Britishers.

Next came Bhim Shamshere who was known for terror, and ruled until 1932. He was also someone who meddled with the roll of succession, something which fostered dissatisfaction in the family of Ranas.

Then of course came Juddha Shamshere who was tyrant and crossed all limits of debauchery before he retired to lead a reclusive life  in India.

Then the two who paved way for the end of the Rana oligarchy were Padma and Mohan Shamshere both of whom knew what was in the air since movements to overthrow the Ranas was gaining momentum.

The book, in fact, is a reckoner on the Rana rule and has information which is not necessarily included in other standard history textbooks available.

This incidentally is something which makes the book different from the rest. There are some of the most beautiful photographs as well. However, it would have been far far better had the book been edited to readers’ satisfaction to make it a truly commendable effort.

Reviewed by D L