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Reviews
Pratyoush Onta
I don't know when I first heard the name of Bhanubhakta, but as a schoolboy I definitely read about him more than once during 1975. My fifth grade Nepali textbook, Mahendramala, contained not one but two chapters about Bhanubhakta. One, presented as a letter by a student to his father, described the celebration of Bhanu Jayanti in his school. The second was a cameo account of Bhanubhakta's life and work. Both of these lessons, of course, mentioned Bhanubhakta's rendering of the Ramayana in colloquial Nepali.
Sometime later I read about how Bhanubhakta's Ramayana, written in Nepali when all the big pundits wrote in Sanskrit, brought about the second unification of the country. The territorial Nepal unified by Prithvinarayan Shah, so that story went, was emotionally unified by Bhanubhakta's Ramayana written in simple Nepali, accessible to all. The same story mentioned that Motiram Bhatta first published Bhanubhakta's Ramayana in the 1880s and had highlighted Bhanubhakta's contribution to the cause of the Nepali language by writing his biography.
In retrospect I see that none of those textbook stories taught me a single thing about how Bhanubhakta's Ramayana had become available to the widely spread population. Nor did they tell me who had actually read it given that levels of literacy were close to zero among large parts of the population. Nor did they teach me how those who could read "read" the Ramayana, or how the experience of reading it has changed over time. In short, those stories taught me nothing about the dissemination or reception of Bhanubhakta's Ramayana, though their claims for its importance depend precisely on widespread dissemination and a homogenous experience of reading.
Twenty years later, after having done some research on the historical making of Bhanubhakta as a national icon (published in the premier issue of Studies in Nepali History and Society) I still do not know the answers to these questions. Reading of the relevant literature showed that Nepali literary historians have paid little attention to such questions. This is a glaring omission since many of them claim that the reading of Bhanubhakta's Ramayana produced the emotional unification of Nepal. Did this happen? There is much to suggest that it did not and that, in fact, trying to create a national sensibility based in language and literature by claiming that it already existed was part of their project of nationalizing Nepali literature.
Nationalizing Literature
In the course of promoting a national Nepali culture, Nepali language and its literature have been nationalized over much of the last century. Nepali language activists in British India first used literature to assert a separate identity for themselves early in this century. Within this project, Bhanubhakta and his Ramayana were rediscovered and made into the original literary icons of the Nepali jati. The influence of this language-based activism seeped into the Nepali literary world from the early 1930s and, through the work of Balkrishna Sama and others, Bhanubhakta was established as the adikavi of Nepali literature. So much effort has gone into the making of ŒBhanubhakta' as a national myth that we know comparatively little about the historical Bhanubhakta as a person.
Similarly much energy has been spent on proclaiming the significance of the reading of Ramayana as a "national" activity that fostered the spirit of the Nepali nation. From the early work of Surya Bikram Gyawali in the 1920s until today, this claim has simply been asserted, without evidence. Yet Ramayana as a carrier of national unity may not have existed outside the imagination of these high priests of Nepali nationalism.
Ramayana's Circulation
Bhanubhakta completed the writing of the satkanda-Ramayana in Nepali between 1841 and 1853. We do not know how and if his handwritten version was reproduced, but Naradev Sharma (biographer of Motiram) has claimed that Motiram first heard the verses of Bhanubhakta's Ramayana being sung in Kathmandu around 1880-81. Motiram then searched for the entire work but found only the Balkanda whose publication he facilitated in 1884 in Banaras. 2000 copies of the Balkanda were published and available accounts suggest that they sold out in a few years.
Before Motiram published Bhanubhakta's entire satkanda Ramayana in 1888 Damaruballav Pokharel and two others did exactly that in 1886. Their 2000-copy edition is largely forgotten today because, unlike Motiram's edition, it was not picked up for reprinting and dissemination. According to literary historian Kamal Dixit, in the preface Pokharel wrote that he was publishing Bhanubhakta's Ramayana in the belief that the text would assist all readers to maintain their dharma. He explained that Bhanubhakta had rendered Ramayana into Nepali so that his countryfolk could attain moksha in a state of knowledge. In Pokharel's reading, there is no hint of Ramayana being the carrier of Nepali national unity. Rather, the significance of the work is religious and Nepali is merely a medium to render it accessible.
Although some aspects of the Banaras-based Nepali language publishing industry in the late 19th century are known, we know very little about how Bhanubhakta's Ramayana was actually sold in Banaras and elsewhere, who the main agents or sellers were, and more importantly where in fact those copies landed up. In his memoirs Parasmani Pradhan recalls that his father, who had worked as an intern in a press in Banaras, actually sold a copy of Bhanubhakta's Ramayana to a Newar in Khurseong. But one Khurseong Newar's purchase hardly begins to illuminate the claimed rapid spread of the Ramayana. If we know so little about its sale and reading in British India, we know even less about its dissemination inside Nepal, a process on which the national unification story squarely rests.
Between the 1880s when this Ramayana was first published in Banaras and the early 1930s when the adoption of Bhanubhakata as a jati icon by Nepali language activists in Darjeeling was well under way how in fact did Nepalis who were literate read the Ramayana? And under what conditions did they, in turn, read the Ramayana to those who were not? What was the life of the Ramayana as a text in this era? We don't know.
A History of Books
I have used Bhanubhakta's Ramayana as an example. If we know so little about how this most famous of Nepali books was disseminated and read over the last century, it's no exaggeration to say we know very little about the history of Nepali books and of their reading. History of books involves, minimally, thinking about the multiple relationships that bind authors with publishers, publishers with printers and other supporting industries, these in turn with shippers and booksellers of all kinds and, finally, with diverse buyers and readers. These elements which describe the space of circulation of a book as a commodity are the basis for a history of books in any era. This is not to say that the relationships connecting these elements will be identical in different times and places. Instead, reasearching these elements will help us to discover the historical particularities of our specific case.
Nepali literary historians have taught us a little about some of these relationships with respect to Bhanubhakta's Ramayana, though much remains to be learned about its circulation. However, when it comes to the next step‹elucidating the experience of reading Ramayana‹they are silent. Their effort has been directed toward establishing the vamsavali of Nepali literature since the days of Bhanubhakta, not toward asking how either the common person or the pundit read the Ramayana and contemporary texts.
The emotional unification of the Nepali people, recognition of a common identity on the basis of a common experience of reading, is a large historical claim. It is a wonderful story, an inspiring foundation for a nation. But does it have any substance? A history of books and a history of reading that does not pay attention to the central activity that creates meaning‹that is, the activity of reading itself‹is a history that ignores the reader as agent of history, as the creater of the meaning in her universe. Thus literary historians teach us what they think the meaning of reading Ramayana has been (or should have been) for the Nepali public at large. But their analysis of it as a second unification of Nepal, given what we don't know about the history of reading as an activity, is clearly overstated and misleadng.
An impressive team of literary heavyweights led by Kamal Dixit have been convened to prepare a documentary film on Bhanubhakta. Shouldn't some of their energy be spent on asking how in fact their hero's work has been read over the last hundred years? Do they have any interest in the history of meaning creation (and hence of life) through the act of reading? Or will they simply visually reify the mythical story of the creation of a unified Nepali identity through the spread of Bhanubhakta's Ramayana? The latter, it seems to me, would be yet another instance of obscuring heterogeneous historical experiences in the interest of furthering a nationalist agenda, one that illuminates very little of the social history of the Nepali nation.
(Onta is a historian and an editor of Studies in Nepal History and Society. His dissertation was a history of Nepali nationalism).
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Mary Des Chene
Lahure might well have been called "Lahureko Srimati", for the soldier of the title remains in the background, an absent husband and father, while the plot revolves around the hardships endured by his wife. Lahure is, in fact, a women's dukha tale par excellence. It's not a book to look to for experiments in narrative style or plot devices, but it provides absorbing reading, for the story is a gripping one.
This novel can offer more than mere entertainment though. Gita Keshari, who contributes a foreword, situates it as a tale of the eternal oppression of women. She also praises Kharel for giving readers the "bitter truth" and the "essential aspects" of the economic, social and domestic life of lahures. I can read the novel in just these ways. But I can also read it as an insulting portrait of the domestic lives of lahures, and a stereotyped picture of women's natures. Read as a representation of Nepali society, the story thus becomes an opportunity for serious reflection.
The central character is Sita. Her absent warrior husband is, surely not accidentally, named Ram. Sita is the ideal daughter, wife, woman, even the ideal human being. She is infinitely kind, good, honest and faithful. Her natal home and village are blessed with bounty by nature, no one lives in need, all live in harmony. The home and village into which she marries include poverty, a harsh environment and human discord. Though these contrasts are rather obvious devices, as the tale of Sita's misfortunes is woven, they become compellingly realistic. Soon after their marriage Ram leaves again for lahur (India), promising to return permanently after one year. He leaves over Sita's protests and at the urging of his parents and unmarried sister. The bulk of the novel recounts the five years that pass before his actual return. Sita bears his son who, along with one female friend, gives her the will to endure as her in-laws become progressively crueler. The novel ends in tragedy - the details of which should be left for readers to discover. When Ram at last does return, he recognizes the futility of having sacrificed years to war and to service for a foreign land. He strikingly renounces that wasted life by giving away all the material wealth he has brought back, and swears to devote himself to the betterment of his son's life and service to his own country.
The force of the story depends on its plausibility. It is its sense of realism that produces emotional involvement. As readers of social realist fiction, we suspend disbelief and adopt the fictive attitude that the author invites us - and depends upon us - to take on: that this is a real story, a real woman, a real tragedy. Whether realist fiction has a responsibility to produce accurate portraits of social life is a topic for literary critics to debate. But as readers, we can ask why we find fictional portraits convincing (or not) and thus bring to awareness our core assumptions about the state of a society and the nature of particular kinds of people.
It is from this point of view that I find the novel troubling. Ram is well-meaning but inexplicably dense (unless one assumes that lahures are unintelligent). He can't see the full extent of his family's cruelty until it's too late; in five years he finds no way to send home any news. His renunciation of his army service as futile is presented as an awakening to his responsibility to his own offspring and own country - as if these things had never occurred to him before. The good woman abused by others is a common figure in fiction. Without doubting that many women are unfairly treated, we can ask for more complex portraits in which no individual is perfect. Ram's mother, in contrast to Sita, personifies cruelty. The author feels no need to explain how she came to be that way. The evil woman is thus presented as a "natural" and common phenomenon. Most troubling is the collective portrait of Ram's family, who simply treat him as a wage-slave to be sent abroad to war for their own advantage. This does no justice to the complex, heart-wrenching decisions that lahures and their families so often make. There remain yet more "bitter truths" about the domestic lives of lahures that have not yet been conveyed in Nepali fiction.
(M. Des Chene is an anthropologist currently carrying out a preservation project at Madan Puraskar Library. Her doctoral research concerned lahure history).
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Yasuko Fujikura
In recent years, women's issues in Nepal have often been discussed within the context of development. In the media, we constantly hear the term, "the need to improve women's status," which is said to be achieved by encouraging women to participate in all levels of development processes. Most of the reviews on "women in development"(WID) state that with the UN declaration of 1975 as the International Women's Year, the global concern for women's issues reached Nepal. With the flow of foreign funds, WID seminars were held, and several organizations and institutions were established at governmental and non-governmental levels.
However little attention has been paid to the fact that long before 1970s there were women who struggled to change conditions for women in Nepal. They were either forgotten, or simply dismissed as not having any historical significance. In this context, Krishna B. Thapa's book Women and Social Change in Nepal (1951-1960) is a welcome contribution.
As a historian, Thapa views the 1950s as an important period which brought not only political changes but also a significant impact on social conditions surrounding women. He claims that this book is fundamentally different from the well-known study entitled The Status of Women in Nepal which deals with socio-economic status of women of different ethnic groups, with the objective of providing information for national planning. Instead, he attempts to present historical accounts of various factors such as public opinion, education, and women's organizations that affected people's consciousness towards women. The central focus of this book is the detailed study of the emergence and transformation of women's organizations in 1940s and 1950s.
In the Introduction, Thapa points out that the Rana government (1846-1951) was not in favour of women's freedom and did not permit any women's rights movement within the country. Chapter II deals with various factors that had restricted the freedom of women before 1951, such as legal codes, religious taboos, and "social evils" including sati systems, child marriage, and polygamy.
Chapter III deals with the role of media in forming public opinion which played a significant role not only for making women conscious, but also for creating the condition in which all people including male guardians were urged to support education for women. Soon after the publication of Gorkhapatra in 1901, opinions against child marriage, women's illiteracy, and polygamy appeared in its editorials. Magazines such as Sharada and Bharati also took up these issues and expressed opinions in favour of equal education for women. From 1933 to 1951 literary figures such as Lokpria Devi, Goma, Prem Rajeswori Thapa tried to raise consciousness among women through their poems and writings in different issues of Gorkhapatra and Sharada. Some Nepali women living in Benaras such as Sukhesi, Nabina Devi and Anasuya also wrote poems, calling for education for girls in Nepal. In 1933, the first girls' school in Nepal, Kanya School, was opened by Chandra Kanta Devi. After 1945 more and more schools started girl education.
Perhaps the notable contribution of this book is the detailed accounts (in Chapter IV) of women's organizations that were first formed in the late 1940s. Among them, the author focuses on four relatively strong women organizations. Nepal Mahila Sangha was organized by Mangala Devi in 1947, and later split into two groups in 1951 (Mangala Devi group and Kamaksha Devi group). Two Akhil Nepali Mahila Sangha were formed in 1950 under the leadership of Tara Devi Sharma and Punya Prabha Devi respectively. The author traces their attempts at improving legal and economic conditions governing women. In addition to opening educational facilities, these organizations made efforts toward bringing legal change. As a member of the second advisory assembly, Sharma introduced Nepal Bibah Bill which had provisions concerning widow marriage, property rights, dowry and child marriage. Similar bills were prepared in 1954 by Punya Prabha Devi (Nepal Nari Samrakshana Vidheyek) and again in 1960, but none of them was passed.
Chapter V deals with the government's attitude towards the promotion of women's status. The author explores constitutional provisions, educational facilities, women's representatives in legislative bodies. Although the government showed general support by providing equal rights under the constitution, it refused to pass concrete legislation when the bills mentioned above were introduced.
Although this book contains lots of valuable information, the author's analysis of the series of events is not as illuminating as it could have been. In the concluding remarks, he suggests that despite the efforts of women's organizations, they did not bring about fundamental change especially for the majority of rural women. He lists some of the possible reasons, such as the lack of cooperation among organizations, engagements with 'party politics', or the upper class origin of the leaders. In doing so, his analysis revolves around the outcome, i. e. success or failure of particular programs, in much the same way as the 'evaluation reports' of any development program.
Instead, I would have liked to see discussion of the political culture of the 1940s and 1950s that made possible the emergence of public opinion, party politics, and women's organizations. It was within the overall context of their involvement in the politics of the time that particular projects of women's movement had significance to the activists. Rigorous analysis in this regard would have helped us understand the difference as well as the connections between the political conditions around the 1950s and the present.
Nevertheless, this book is valuable for the following reasons. First, the author makes use of Nepali newspapers, magazines, unpublished documents, and personal interviews, which is rare in English publications. Secondly, while much of the research on women discuss women's conditions as defined by membership in particular ethnic communities, the author focuses on nation-wide public opinion and legislation that affect women across ethnic distinctions. Lastly, as I mentioned earlier, attention to women as subject before the arrival of WID should enrich our understanding of the issues of women and society at large in the present.
(Y. Fujikura is a social science researcher).
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Kavita Sherchan
No definition of poetry can limit its possibilities. Definitions try to constrict poetry. Poetry tries to break free, and in this tussle, poetry always emerges a winner. In this respect, poetry is a rebellion; it is freedom and also a symbol of human thinking. Poet Bishnu Bibhu Ghimire's anthology of poems, Kathghara Ma Ubhiyera (From the Witness Box), proves this point. The poems in this anthology do not conform to any rule or remain within the boundary of some definition.
Poet Ghimire's poetry has a humane quality. His attitude towards women and life & its injustices is reflected in all his poems. He is worried about the wounded future of those with troubled souls and high ideals. His poetry is about the world of unrequited aspirations. One finds pain, worries and pathos in his expressions. Ghimire has tried to capture the lost faith and rebuild ruined lives through his poetry. Six out of 42 poems are dedicated to womanhood. He has sincerely empathised with the problems of women and portrayed their pain, anguish and suffering beautifully. In the poem Antar ( Differences), he shows the difference between a man and his wife thus:
My interest has to be yours too,
You have to embrace my wishes too
We run the life's race and cover equal distance,
I rest when I'm tired
You have rest in your tiredness.
Whatever I say is right
But to accept your truth is my wish,
This is the difference
In me being a husband and you a wife....!
The above stanza shows the exact condition of Nepali housewives who have to accept their husbands' wishes silently. He has also shown the suspecting male psychology in the same poem:
A woman embodies life
She lives tender emotion
She smiles commited patience
Still...her chastity is questioned
When a stupid dhobi
Passes a lewd comment in his drunken stupor.
A woman's pathetic plight is further elaborated thus:
My dreeams are valued
But it's alright to forget yours.
We are companions of the same journey
Yet you have to take special care of my journey
It's alright for me to neglect yours
This is the difference
In me being a husband and you a wife....!
Ghimere portrays woman's lack of status in the society in the following manner:
Because I'm your husband
You have to fit in the castle of my wishes
Since you are my wife
Your wishes ( if you have any) can be destroyed
Women have no colour
No constitution to live
By accepting to be a wife
You have to forget your nature
No matter how talented you are
You have to find pride in your husband's name
This is the difference
In me being a husband and you a wife....!
Though a man, the poet has portrayed the sad state of Nepali women with great care and understanding. So many of our talented women have withered by accepting to be someone's wife. So many of our women are compelled to live with shattered dreams because they have to realize their husbands' dream. Ghimere's sympathy for the unlucky women is seen in his next poem Bimalaharu. Therein he regards the downfall of women brought by the society as sacrilege. He believes that women still live in the glass houses in Nepal, hinting that a woman's character is fragile and cannot be reclaimed after it is broken. He has bared the bitter truth of some Nepali women's lives when he writes,
One cannot be oneself
Without selling oneself
I don't want heaven
But, here-
One cannot live without sinning!
Ghimire's poems are easy to understand and real. He has not only glorified women but also shown the frustrations of youths, and the poverty and the injustice prevalent in the society. He has selected incidents from everyday life and expressed them beautifully and meticulously through the use of simple words in a free verse.
(Sherchan works for The Kathmandu Post).
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