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Curio capital: Kathmandu

wanderadmin — Fri, 18 May 2012 10:30:18 +0000

Everything from handicrafts to ancient musical instruments

The winding road set in the midst of a coniferous forest was a continuing reminder of the place I was leaving behind. Definitely, Nagarkot was cleaner and greener, above all, quieter. If you are looking for quality time introspecting or bonding, then you have to be away from the hubbub of Kathmandu. And the quickest getaway is Nagarkot.

From the cooler climes of the verdant heights, I reached the warmer and definitely shriller plains of Kathmandu. The capital of Nepal was overflowing with life, the energy is contagious and the culture-mix, dynamic. From the near-spiritual aloofness of the mountains, the incessant clamour comes as a familiar welcome ritual. As if the city was receiving me back into her bosom with a quivering sigh of happiness. Suddenly I realised how much I had missed this boisterous little imp of a city. And I happily joined the ranks of other seekers and explorers, shoppers and revellers.

Recycled bags - a favourite with the green traveller

Most of the stuff a typical tourist is looking for in Nepal can be found in the touristy by-lanes of Thamel. This backpackers’ paradise is a one-stop shop for anything from outdoor gear to moulded divinity from knitted wear to well, party showers – as announced outside a dance bar not-so-subtly called ‘Pussy Cat’. Everything and everybody was caught in a web of discounts, offers and permanent bargains. Wherever tourists convene, traders converge. So it’s easy to be carried away and confine yourself to Thamel. But that would be the last thing you would want in a city strewn with novel handicraft stores, pottery shops hidden behind great durbar squares, carpets in a refugee centre and traditional paintings everywhere.

During the 70s, when ‘all under one roof’ was still a concept in the continent, the Bishal Bazaar rose to be a favoured destination among the elite from India and other neighbouring countries. The genesis of the mall culture booming in Nepal today can be traced back to Bishal Bazaar. Today, this once-iconic destination stands aloof, missing the grand old days, the yesteryear sheen considerably worn off. However, in its struggle to stay relevant in the market, continue to lure customers and stay afloat generally, Bishal Bazaar too has given in to the Chinese invasion sweeping across the globe. As one shopkeeper told me, most of the goods are from Khasa, which meant Chinese. The days of glory could be over for Bishal Bazaar, but it still garners the foot falls to remain a landmark mall.

All kind of religious artifacts are available in the durbar squares

The purchasing power of the average Nepali in general and the younger lot in particular have gone up in recent years. Thanks to the steadily changing political system and social structure of the country. This is reflected in the tastes and preferences of the fashion-conscious generation. The happening malls are mostly packed with clothing and accessory shops which take its design cues from the popular film industry next door. Branded products, organised retail, loyalty programs…all these might not have made a serious dent in Nepal consumer psyche, yet. Then again, are these really missed in a country with an impeachable lineage of art and culture, craft and tradition? The tourist didn’t seem to – who made a beeline for the umpteen local arts and handicrafts shops and the natural fabric shops for dresses and accessories.

Among the handicraft emporiums of Kathmandu, the Sana Hastakala in Kopundole Road is a pioneer. This founder member of the Fair Trade Group Nepal, also strives to preserve traditional crafts and to uplift underprivileged craftsmen. Set up in 1989 with financial and technical support from Unicef, the objective was to open up new marketing opportunities for women handicraft producers who didn’t have any sales outlet. Sana Hastakala is known for its exquisite bead jewellery and accessories. Dhukuti, an equally well-stocked outlet like Sana, is a short walk away. The folk art of Nepal is a thriving industry today. The original inhabitants, the Newars, were gifted craftsmen. Their legacy continues to this day in the handmade paper products, traditionally spun takkas, white metal cutlery, horn utensils, the Khukuris which are symbols of ‘veer Gorkhari’ and jewellery made of bone and semi precious stones.

Reproductions of ancient scrolls, some claim to be original

No visit to Nepal will be complete without bringing home a thangka painting. This is essentially a scroll painting favoured for its ease of transport. These paintings, used mostly for worship, are also used for teaching as well as decoration. The thangka paintings capture different gods in their various mood swings ranging from anger to benevolence. The paint used for traditional thangka paintings are made of vegetable and mineral dyes. In more expensive works, gold-based colours are also used. These paintings are definitely worth taking back with you – essentially stylised symbolisms condensing the rich and colourful mythologies and legends of Nepal. The clay vessels, historical figures and religious motifs are slices of ethnic Nepal – the best samples of which can be found in the Potter’s Square of Bhaktapur. These are usually made from black clay both as sun-baked terracotta and glazed earthenware in furnaces to gives it lustre, colour and quality. However, unlike the thangka paintings, transporting these can pose a problem. But the sellers will agree to pack and ship it out to you for an additional price.

While Nepali art and craft are thriving in the valley, ironically the biggest employer in the region is an import from Tibet. The carpet centre at Jawalakhel is synonymous with the Tibetan Refugee Centre. Since its inception in 1960 as a shelter for Tibetans fleeing Chinese occupation, the centre has become the principal forex earner of Nepal. The weaving uses two types of sheep wool – Tibetan and New Zealand. Those woven from Tibetan wool is warmer while New Zealand wool gives more lustre. The centre also does customised carpet weaving as per specifications. The carpets made from hand spun wool have a unique lustre and softness and are coloured with vegetable dyes. The designs are mostly inspired from Tibetan legends. The Jawalakhel Carpet Centre manufactures three types of carpets – 100, 80 and 60 knots. The centre also doubles up as a showroom from where you can buy carpets, place your orders which will be shipped or give your specifications for customisation in design, blend or size.

In Bhaktapur, you can watch and learn the how-tos

Good buys are almost always a testimony to your bargaining skills. However, when buying traditional handicrafts, especially expensive ones, it is prudent to take along a local with an expert eye. Tales abound of unscrupulous shopkeepers passing off junk as antique or charging unheard-of prices. A word of caution here: Do not be carried away when somebody tries to sell you a handicraft item which is over 100 years old. Any handicraft which is 100 years or older is classified as ‘antique’ by the Nepalese government and taking them out of the country is a punishable offence.

Knick-knack curios from the numerous shops of Thamel, religious motifs sold in the durbar square stalls, colourful and functional handicrafts from folk art shops, souvenirs that are expensive or just showpieces, decorative items of lasting value – the options are many for your piece of Nepal to take home.

Nagarkot rising

wanderadmin — Sat, 12 May 2012 01:17:22 +0000

A resting place for the walk-weary en route Nagarkot

Most of us urbanites find forests irresistible. For my part, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave Chitwan. So I asked at the Unique Resorts, where I was staying, to arrange for me one last ride through the forest. Niranjan, the mahout, came with his black beauty, Champakali, an intelligent, frisky hulk with twinkling, naughty eyes. With the dawn just breaking across an argent-blue sky, I sucked in the dewy freshness that lay like a halo over the forest. I trampled through the swampy marshlands, with the moist-laden tall grass brushing past; bigger obstacles like fallen branches were just a weary swoop of Champakali’s twitchy trunk. The pearly-green forest caroused fresh all around me. Birds exchanged surprised calls at the sight of the odd-time visitors.

Darting forlorn looks at the placid harmony that would soon be memory, I headed out of Sauraha, the village where I was staying. From Sauraha, I headed to Bharatpur town where the airport was located. The bumpy ride would take close to an hour. Since the flight was only in the late afternoon, I asked the driver if we could take the scenic route – via the 20,000 Lakes. The 20,000 Lakes is slightly less than an overstatement. It is actually a whole area covered by numerous little water bodies, each the size of an Olympic swimming pool. I counted less than a 100; ‘20,000’ sounded like somebody lost count and got a bit exasperated. That was just one version of the nomenclature. The other version is that nobody knows how or from where it got its name. Whatever, the good part is that the place is yet to make an appearance on the tourist map. But on the flip side, the approach road is accessible only by jeeps or SUVs.

The green fields are fighting a losing battle

Among the numerous little lakes, there is one main lake which is the 20,000 Lake. This is locally known as Aam Taal; aam means mango and taal is lake (no, there weren’t any mangoes in the lake, I checked). The bank of the lake is swamped with a grass called karothi jhar– used by the locals to feed livestock. Beneath this thick blanket of the razor-thin grass, it is not unusual to find a napping crocodile. The 20,000 Lakes used to be popular among the locals as a weekend or picnic spot. However, it didn’t take long to lose its lure – due to the napping crocs.

Bharatpur is five hours by road southwest of Kathmandu. By flight it takes less than half an hour. So I reached Kathmandu early afternoon on the day of Teej celebrations. All the women were dressed in blood-red saris with twinkling attachments and other ornamental fineries. Though festivals are almost every second day in Nepal, Teej is among the biggest, most colourful and is celebrated with much aplomb. The guys make way for their women who take centre stage who do so with much gaiety and it is not uncommon to see impromptu dance sessions right on the roadside – to the accompaniment of high pitched singing and clapping. After filling up with pretty women and with a voice gone hoarse wishing every smiling face a ‘Happy Teej’ I decided to take off to a new destination fast rising in stature in Nepal’s tourism map.

Nagarkot from the View Tower

Nagarkot is 30 kilometres from Kathmandu town. After the left turn towards Bhaktapur town, the climb begins on a gradual note. The drive is a marked deviation from the smoky haze of Kathmandu roads. Vast expanses of green fields cuddle the road from both sides. The architectural legacy of Bhaktapur, the city of devotees, can be found even when you are passing by – there are figurines in stone right by the side of the road as if waiting endlessly waiting for the bus and a structure which would have been a waiting shed if buses were plying a thousand years ago (which was actually a waiting place for the walk-weary). Endless green fields stretched on both sides of the road, punctuated by intermittent concrete structures. With progress happening at a rampant pace, new constructions spilled out into every available space. And that included the paddy fields I was passing through. Though recognised as one of the banes of haphazard development Kathmandu is undergoing today, there seems to be no respite to the increasing encroachment.
Decades ago, the fields were forests which were cleared for habitation. With increasing traffic between Kathmandu and Nagarkot, the rusticity of the mud houses may not be around for long. Steel and cement buildings rise like unwelcome blots amid the lush green fields. The authorities seem resigned to the grim fact that nothing much can be done with the thousands pouring into the capital and settling down on the valley fringes. With the city sagging at its seams, options for the tourist reaching saturation points, it was only a matter of time that gazes shifted to alternate destinations. Like Nagarkot.

One hunk of a monk - Konchok Dorjay

Climbing higher, the green got greener and the concrete sparser. Save for little clusters of agrarian outposts, the tentacles of the city were left far behind. Far away in the distant hills gleamed the tin tops of Nagarkot houses. Nagarkot means ‘fort of the city’. Occupying a strategic location in the ancient trading route between Tibet and Nepal, the town is historically relevant as a trading outpost. Perched at an altitude of 2165 metres, the mountain township is several degrees cooler than Kathmandu. All these has made Nagarkot a favoured weekend destination for those looking for a respite from the capital’s heat and dust. It is also preferred by courting couples for its peace and quiet. And suddenly, I was in Nagarkot.

One of the reasons for its rising popularity is its proximity to Kathmandu. My taxi driver informs me that some tourists don’t even bother to get into Kathmandu town – they come here directly from the airport itself. The trip takes hardly half an hour. Being over two kilometres above sea level, from Nagarkot the Himalayas are visible on a clear day. As dusk fell, I could see the majestic snow-clad mountains in the distant horizon nodding off. The hills around were slowly snuggling under the blanket of clouds.

Tourism was a late-comer in Nepal, making its appearance in the 1960s only. Hence it was only much later the resorts and boutique hotels came up in neighbouring Nagarkot. But today, all kind of creature comforts are available here to suit every budget. I had to make sure that I didn’t get too carried away as I had to catch the sunrise here – something which Nagarkot was famed for. So the next morning, I was up, as were 50 Japanese with clucking Nikons in the main balcony next to mine, at 6am. While I had hardly enough time to pull the bathrobe around me, my neighbours were all dolled up in impeccably tailored suits and jackets – I almost expected them to ask the sun out for dinner soon as it came out. The sunrise in Nagarkot was definitely better than the sunset in Chitwan. Then sunrises are any day better than sunsets. Anywhere.

The sun rises over Nagarkot

The rising sun slowly unfurled before me the resplendence of the surrounding mountains. The Himalayas in the horizon were clearer than they were yesterday. But I wanted a better view for which I clambered up a watch tower, a short drive from the hotel where I was staying. The town was slowly shaking off its slumber. The only ones on the street were the nattily dressed school children. And the Japanese who had slowly started to staccato down the winding roads pointing their Nikons at rising chimney fumes and overlooked flora. Peopled mostly by Tamang and Bahun tribes, who depend mostly on agriculture, the town was yet to fully realise its tourism potential like next door Kathmandu. These people rely mostly on their land and seemed to be perfectly content with whatever they had – their happily mooing cattle and chirpy children traipsing to school.

While I stood transfixed and a little startled on the top of the View Tower at the total lack of any semblance between what I saw in the horizon to the shapes in the map I held in my hand, I saw somebody looking at the mountains with a dream-happy smile on his face. Konchok Dorjay was a Buddhist monk with bushy brows over waterfall-green eyes – one hunk of a monk. Hailing from a village close to Ladakh and a descendant of the original Aryans, Konchok came to Kathmandu as a 15-year-old. Completing his masters in Tibetan philosophy he was now gunning for a doctorate. Like me, he too clambered up this rickety tower for the view. An adventurous monk with an eye for beauty.

The land acknowledged the compliment by sending a gentle cool waft of a breeze over us, billowing Konchok’s red and saffron habit. The clouds floated right next to our eyes framing the landscape in an ethereal beauty. Nagarkot rolled on in front of us with its meandering valleys, the rumbling in August monsoon clouds and the whiff of a rainbow conjoining heaven and earth.

Elephants, canoes and other memorable rides

wanderadmin — Fri, 04 May 2012 09:22:04 +0000

The buffer zone is not that foresty enough

A clear dawn descended, typical of a tropical zone like the Terai where the Chitwan National Park was located. On Mahendra’s recommendation, I decided to go for a canoe ride around the forest to try my luck at spotting some of the famed wildlife. Spotting wildlife, rather trying to, seemed to be the buzzword here. It was only seven in the morning and Mahendra was waiting at the boat jetty; I never doubted his energy and enthusiasm.

One sinewy heave-ho from our boatman and we were off. The ride gave us lovely views of the forest. Mahendra kept pointing out the blink-and-you-miss birds to the carefully camouflaged gharials and marsh muggers – quite hard to miss once you spot them, on the other hand. There they were sunning themselves, lessons in languid repose. Sure enough, I began to view the gently flowing river with a newfound respect. Okay, fear. I kept peering over the edges of the dugout more often now. Lake Placid.

Early morning, a local keeps herself warm

Save for the powerful ‘plok’ of the oar as it cut into the water, we didn’t make much sound and wove our way through the buffer zone. Trekking and canoe rides are allowed till the buffer zone only – beyond which passage is denied for both natives and tourists. Real jungle lies beyond the buffer zone – but it is a protected area and the locals do not hesitate to share chilling accounts of trespassers either killed or brutally mangled. Almost a reminiscent of the boat ride in Pokhara, but this one was, well, more real. Here I was floating right next door to a real forest, giving me occasional glimpses of its inner sanctum. There was a certain edginess to the pervading tranquillity. I was squatting on a basic canoe and around me were man-eater crocodiles, languishing about with a holiday air about them. If a ripple left the boat swaying, I didn’t have the heart to even clutch the ridges of the dugout. The cranes and the kingfishers kept an eager eye on the fish and we were given a bored once-over.

A popular watering hole in the Chitwan

We reached the landing from where our nature walk began. The place was milling with nature walkers. We decided to wait it out for awhile to enhance our chances to spot wildlife. As things quieted down a bit, we set off. The jungle walk would be limited till the buffer zone boundaries. However, got more foresty as we headed closer to the zone. The walk with Mahendar was also a re-initiation to the biology classes forgotten after school. Somehow, with live samples, this time it seemed more interesting. Wild orchids embraced the thickset sal trees with a flowery glee; Mahendra said that they came in a 150 different varieties. The deeper we went, the prettier it became. Our path was paved with twisted trunks daubed with slippery lichen. Thriving termite hills, laid out snacks for sloth bears. Watering holes, invitingly pretty, just like the way they are in our world. Again, just like in our world, in forests too there are no fixed timings to visit watering holes. But the timing of my visit quite slimmed the chances – the best time to spot wild animals is from February to April, when the thick lush cover becomes a bit subdued due to summer heat.

The recently born twins at the breeding centre

Adding excitement to the otherwise sedate surroundings was the discovery of fresh rhino marks – these giants need their water. Going by the depth of the footprints, it seemed like the visit was early in the morning. Too late for us to be following them now. In 1950, the total number of rhinos stood up over 1,000. It reached an all-time low of less than 100 in 1966 during the peak of the Tharu-government face-off. Today it is growing at an annual rate of four per cent and the numbers stood at around 600 in the last count.

Our jungle trail ended near the elephant breeding centre. This was the second such breeding centre in the world the first being in Sri Lanka. Most of the breeding is done with domesticated bulls. At times wild tuskers try to crash the party. They are kept out with wires which have mild doses of electricity passing through them. The wild ones do not leave before registering their protest as was evident from the deep etchings on the barricading posts around the centre. Before the breeding centre started, the king of Nepal had to bring elephants from India, Burma or Sri Lanka –procured in exchange for other animals. The elephants bred in the centre are used for patrolling the national park as well as for the jungle safaris. At the breeding centre, we met the latest addition – a three-month old baby which was sleeping peacefully under the watchful eyes of its mother. My first visit had been at a most lucky time for the centre – one of the elephants had just delivered twins. A rare occurrence anywhere in the world. After a quick visit to the elephant bathing place it was time for the elephant safari.

Keep quiet, increase chances of spotting big game

Elephant safari is by far the most popular activity for tourists visiting Chitwan. As mentioned earlier, chances of spotting wild game are easier during the summer months when the forest cover is less thick. Save for the monsoon months, safari operators do full-fledged business from October to June as well. The elephant ride is a throwback to the days when the guests of the king, themselves Maharajahs or viceroys from neighbouring India and other high-ranking European officials, used to undertake hunting expeditions. Before malaria was wiped out from the region, the hunting trips would be organised during winter months – when the fever-threat was at a minimum. The ruling Ranas were keen hunters and able sportsmen who would return home with large numbers of rhinos and tigers.

Big animals are generally spotted in the dense forests as well as in the tall grasslands of the floodplain. The marshy lands, which are prime habitats of rhinos, can be negotiated only by elephants. Not only are tourists safe high up on these majestic mammoths, but their scents mask that of humans – considerably increasing the chances of spotting game. To increase your chances, also take care to keep the general noise levels as low as possible. Including excited exclamations when spotting elusive wildlife. The safaris are limited to till the buffer zone boundaries which greatly impede chances of sighting big game. It also depends on a large extent to the time of the visit. The summer months are most suited to spot big game in the Terai – when they will be found lazing and lounging around the watering holes.

Just like us.

Heart of the forest – Chitwan National Park

wanderadmin — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 16:39:06 +0000

No seat, no problem: Be seated in the aisle

If Pokhara was an escape, Chitwan was supposed to be better – an escape into the wild. I headed to the former hunting reserve of the ruling dynasty and one of the few remaining tall grassland habitats in the world. Here I would be watching an enthralling sunset, canoeing close to crocodiles and generally getting closer to Nature.

The bus station in Pokhara was brimming with other tourists who were also Chitwan-bound. My baggage was secured against the bumpy ride and possible rain. Fresh-baked rolls and croissants rattled into paper covers were packed for breakfast; another one set aside for lunch. After I had settled down in one bus, I was told to take another one as this one didn’t have enough space. Going by the pretty co-passenger next to me – a ginger-haired German – I soon decided this inconvenience was a welcome hiccup. A sudden glow of happiness washed over me as I set off from Pokhara.

Hand to mouth: Where the money goes

After homestays, bus rides are the closest you can get to be one with the locals. These journeys often give interesting insights about the people, their attitudes and temperaments. And some quite engaging photo-ops as well. The intermittent pee and tea breaks are often great opportunities to strike up new friendships. During one break I met David, a photographer from the UK who was pissing next to me (no, these stretches do not have public utilities). The next one, I was having tea sitting next to his wife, Alexander, a student. Making the ride further memorable was a little one with his own customised version of ‘Resam firiri’ accompanied by his ektara (‘Sometimes trekking, sometimes rafting, resam firiri…’).

The road wound its way up through deep-cut gorges taking me eye-level with mountains cleared for terrace farming. The bus crossed over a dozen bridges named Tope, Rigdi, Mauree…till I lost interest. After five hours, I entered the leafy plains of the Terai which marked the beginning of the national park. True to a Terai, especially in a July, the monsoon was never far away and no sooner did I check into the Unique Wild Resorts, it began to pour.

Throw up, throw out: Distributing puke bags

Like most of the resorts in Chitwan, the Unique Resorts too was firm in its roots. It was built around the green with as little cutting down of trees as was possible. It was like a slice of the forest brought into your own backyard. I sat back, sipping my welcome drink, watching the rain. From the welcome drink, I moved on to a cup of tea, which became half a dozen, before the rain finally decided to recess.

“Chitwan is from two words, ‘chit’ meaning ‘heart’ and ‘wan’ which is ‘forest’,” said Jog, the resort manager. He also told me serious stuff like ‘the Chitwan National Park is a standing testimony to successful nature conservation in southeast Asia’. And, ‘wild life covers around 10 per cent of the park area’.
He introduced me to Mahendra Chaudhary, a genuine nature lover, who works with local and national organisations to conserve the forest as well as to preserve local culture and traditions. Jog, was busy with some prior engagements (“I have to take an Italian lady out for sightseeing.” Definitely a valid reason, I agreed.) and put me to in charge of Mahendra who agreed to take me around and ply me with information. The Tharus formed 90 per cent of the indigenous population before Chitwan was declared a national park. However, today the tribe forms a minority at around 10 per cent of the population. This indigenous tribe built their houses with age-old wisdom. Their huts had walls made with elephant grass, available aplenty in the forest. This was then covered with mud and cow dung. The hollow space in between kept the hut cool even during the height of summer. Such techniques and tools used by the Tharu tribe were on display at the nearby Tharu Cultural Museum, a short walk from the village.

An interesting ride: Got a ginger head next to me

The sturdy Tharus were the earliest settlers in the Terai regions of Nepal. They were also the largest tribe spread. They were gentle by nature and hardworking, turning to the land for most of their needs. Before 1950, there were only Tharus in Chitwan region. The tribe had a natural resistance to the endemic malaria. After the eradication of malaria through joint efforts of the Nepal government with international development agencies, Chitwan was cleared and cultivated. Settlement of other tribes from all over began in right earnest. The declaration of Chitwan as a sanctuary first in 1964, led to serious skirmishes between the government and the native Tharus. The museum faithfully records the feuds over land rights of the Tharus and preservation efforts by the authorities. Poaching, especially that of rhinos for its valuable horn, was on the rise. In 1964, a land resettlement commission was established to evict with force over 20,000 tribe members. Even help from the army was sought to push out the resisting Tharus.
Inside the museum, I met another interested-looking visitor; Hillary Taylor was a palaeontologist from Canada.
“I really enjoyed the museum – it gives a lot of stuff to think about,” she said. Hillary was right. There was a lot of food for thought there. Ethical questions of coexistence of humans and preservation of Nature were being bandied about. I decided to give it some serious thought. But before that, I had to find a place of peace, and preferably, beauty. The best place would be by the banks of the meandering Rapti river.
The efforts by the government and the eventual peace paid off and Chitwan National Park was declared a Natural Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1984. Besides the Rapti, the Narayani and Reu rivers too flow through here. A rich and diverse ecosystem, consisting of a large variety of birds, mammals, reptiles and water animals abound here. But now, all I could see were the two-legged types, totting cameras. Tourists had gathered for the sunset which, on any given day, is nothing less than spectacular. Anywhere. Today with so many expectations riding high, it surely was going to be spellbinding.

That time of the day when you look back

A brilliant dash of orange seared across an otherwise ponderous sky. The silhouettes got increasingly pronounced with every passing minute. The ever-faithful mirror – the lake – captured each changing nuance in its wake. Travels are generally occasions to introspect. The physical aspect of the journey is just one dimension. It is the trip you take inside, to look back, that enriches you as a person. Sunsets are that time of the day most suited for these inward journeys. What did I see today? How did they benefit me? Have I become a better person? More human? Questions you put to yourself and answer, for, if the next day is the same as today, you better stay at home.

Cultural shows are centuries of evolution in a capsule. Later that evening, I retired to the dark confines of a hall to watch some by the Tharus. The place filled up pretty quickly – the enthusiasm of the tourists reciprocated in the high energy levels of the ceremonies’ master. The performances were a tribute to the tribe’s sense of rhythm, stamina and skill. The dances combined martial abilities, split second timing and commendable flexibility. Understandably, many from the audience found the high energy levels irresistible and took to the stage to share some.

Escape to Pokhara – 2

wanderadmin — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 14:29:22 +0000

There is more to Pokhara than the Peace Pagoda

Pokhara is a quaint little tourist town which is not really in a rush to get up and get going any given morning. Tourism was a late entrant in Pokhara and till the 60s, the town was accessible only by foot. Most of the valley was meandering fertile fields which gave way for haphazard development. The Fewa Lake is the hub of all tourism in Pokhara. Commercial fishing is allowed in the lake which is a source of livelihood for many locals. Water from the lake is used for irrigation and to generate hydroelectricity. The lake which was earlier nine sq km in area, now covers less than half of that due to silting. The town of Pokhara itself is only six km from east to west and eight from north to south. The valley is formed like a Terai and slants a little towards east and south. Caught between an agrarian past and a touristy future, Pokhara at times seems to be at the crossroads of development.

Nobody is sure of the story behind Devi's Falls

In terms of tourism, too much has happened in Pokhara. Too fast. With everyone jumping to join the tourism bandwagon, the supply-demand equation obviously got tilted. The numerous shops dealing in trinkets, souvenirs and religious articles lining the way to the Gupteshwor Caves wears a desolate look. For the locals manning these shops, it is business as usual. The Gupteshwor Caves is a pilgrim destination where you are likely to bump into hordes of Shiva-bhakts from India as well as Nepal. There are stairs to reach the entrance that opens into the actual cave. Inside the caves, there are stairs that descend another 100 metres and goes on almost till the Devi’s Falls next door. The steps are well-lit. Still be extra careful on the slippery stones. Being an underground cave, the constant drip is almost like a slight drizzle down here. During the monsoon months of July, August and September, the cave is closed for obvious reasons.

At the Devi’s Falls too, locally known as Patale Chhango, there seemed to be no respite to the business aspirations of the locals. Only that with straw hats and cheap satchels, the shops here catered to a more touristy crowd than pilgrims. The gushing Devi’s Falls originates from the Fewa Lake. Though tourists are only a sprinkle, this is a popular picnic spot among the locals. Though no one could vouch for the veracity of the story behind the name, local folklore says that it was named after a tragic accident involving a Mrs Devi. Mrs Devi was a Swiss who travelled to Pokhara with her husband. They were bathing in the Fewa Lake when there was a flash flood. Here, some versions also say that she was swept away by the undercurrents of the lake. Attempts by her husband to save her were futile and her lifeless body was found near the waterfalls a few days later. Whatever be the genesis of the name, the Devi’s Falls is a picturesque visit. However, the area lacks basic facilities, doesn’t even have a decent eatery. After a quick lunch of wild bananas and biscuits, I left for the next on my checklist.

The Mountain Museum is a hit with all tourists

The International Mountain Museum, I was told, is the only one of its kind in the world. However, after the visit to the ‘prehistoric caves’, I was a bit sceptic about tall claims. Nevertheless, the museum did have some hidden gems in store. Set up as a tribute to all mountaineers who surrendered their lives to their brave endeavours, the mountain museum is a favourite with international tourists. The model of the Manaslu mountain by the museum entrance is evocative of the tribute. The Manaslu, unlike most of the Himalayan peaks, was first climbed by the Japanese, giving it a special place among Asian mountaineers. Not only was the first conquest Asian, but a large number of Japanese, Nepalese and South Korean lives have been lost in attempts to reach its summit. Manaslu, which means ‘soul’ in Sanskrit, also lays claim to the largest toll on lives by any peak in the region. On a spring day in 1972, it wiped off an entire expedition party of 15 in an avalanche.
You don’t really have to be museum enthusiast to enjoy this museum – there is history, culture, all with a dash of adventure. The museum was established to document the developments in three areas: the origin of the major mountain systems of the world, the different people inhabiting the mountain regions and important feats in mountaineering. The museum has primarily four exhibit halls. They are the halls of, mountain people, world mountains, mountain activities and guest exhibitions.

To the memory of all dead mountaineers

In the mountain section, there are photographs of the 14 peaks which are above 8,000 metres. Also called the eight thousanders. Most of the photographs are taken by expedition groups who set out for their summits. In the section of the mountain peoples, the exhibits give us a glimpse on the way of lives of different mountain folks – the utensils, weapons and other tools they used for everyday living. As I roamed around the museum it became apparent that people everywhere are the same – the only defining factor being the surroundings. The mountain people came across as a lot who deserved respect – for their fight against all odds to survive. So many years have passed and nothing much seemed to have changed from what I saw in the photographs to what was on ground. The priceless photographs and artefacts, fossils, dresses, weapons – all were illustrative of an era gone by. An era that has left behind a legacy we can call proudly our own. Everything had a place and there was a place for everything in this museum, evidently an outcome of serious passion.

The evening went by in a dice, err, daze

From highbrow to more frivolous pursuits, some quite expensive, I headed to the casino in the Pokhara Grande Hotel. Casinos are not exactly dime a dozen in Nepal. In fact, while there were only four in capital Kathmandu, in Pokhara there is only the Pokhara Grande. Being my last night in Pokhara, I decided to live it up a little bit. Hang out on the edge. It didn’t take long for me to wish that the Nepali government should have banned Indians too, along with the natives, from gambling.
The cool evening breeze had a sobering effect on me as I cruised along the lakeside Baidam, the wannabe-Thamel, trying to forget my ill-luck at the tables. It was here I came to know of the cultural programmes that inject new life to otherwise loss-infected miserable evenings. As the night wore on, I sat transfixed at the flowing movements of the gifted dancers. An irrepressible joy permeated the night from the graceful expressions, the lithe limbs and the innate sense of rhythm. Whatever the day held for me, I surely would be leaving the valley with a definite fondness for the land, the monuments and the people.

Escape to Pokhara – 1

wanderadmin — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 13:09:48 +0000

The city lights and the sights had taken its toll. I was by now ready to give my right hand for some peace and quiet. You need peace? Then go to Pokhara! Nobody actually said it. But nevertheless, it seemed a good idea. Pokhara Valley lies close to 200 kilometres to the west of Kathmandu. By road it takes the better part of a day as the roads in Nepal are nothing much to write home about. Flight takes just half an hour and you arrive even before you get to know your pretty flight attendant.

The Fewa Lake extends a shimmering welcome

‘The only valley in the world from where you can see mountains higher than 8,000 metres from below 1,000 metres’, read the brochure. I had a car waiting at the airport sent by the hotel to pick me up and I was only glad to escape from the sweltering heat and humidity. Pokhara is the second most popular tourist destination in Nepal. Statistics say that one in every four travellers to the country come to Pokhara on their way to trekking in the Annapurnas. Not so long ago, the 125 sq km valley used to be one big farmland but obviously the lush is slowly giving way to an increasing popularity. Pokhara is situated at an elevation of 900 metres which is quite lower than Kathmandu. This accounts for the generally warmer climate and humidity.

Let me quickly run you through some interesting historical highlights of the valley:
1952 – The first airplane landed in Pokhara
1958 – The first jeep arrived by plane
1961 – The first bullock cart arrived (also by plane)
Yes, the primitive wooden bullock cart arrived a full three years late after the jeep

Colourful, wayward boats dot the Fewa

My hotel oozed a quaint charm. Decked by tropical trees – gulmohar, lychee, simal and camphor – the best thing was that it was hardly 30 metres from the Fewa Lake which extended me a shimmery welcome. Soon after I checked in, I went to the pier from where I could hire a boat to take me around the shimmery blue-green of the Fewa. It seemed like everybody else on the valley too had the same idea. The Fewa Lake is the second largest lake in Nepal and the lush green canopy of the Sarangkot and Kasikot hills envelop it. Though there are a total of eight lakes in Pokhara, Fewa is the biggest. It used to cover an area of nine sq km earlier. But silting over the years has reduced the lake area to less than half of what it was. A part of the water from the lake is used for irrigation in the surrounding valley and part for hydroelectric power.

Colourful boats dot the two km long Fewa Lake. Floating along the Fewa is one of the best ways to view the laidback Pokhara. Fishing is done commercially on the Fewa waters as well as for fun. The mountains that silhouetted a bulbous green against the sky, lacing the tranquil waters, revealed a rich flora from close quarters. I floated unmoving, brushing against the eager sprigs, listening to the resigned chirp of a nesting bird and the threatening croak of the rudely awakened water toad.

Lewis Carroll in his boat

Looked like Lewis too was here…
A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily,
In the evening of July.
Lewis Carroll

The Fewa Lake is popular not just with international tourists but in the domestic circuit also. You find many Nepalis honeymooning, holidaying or just out for a weekend picnic. Tourists can try their luck at angling and the catch will be cooked by your host hotel the way you want it – curried, fried or grilled. As dusk started to descend, I turned my boat around, headed back to land. Towards the eastern side of the lake, there were rows of lodges, restaurants and generally inexpensive accommodation for the backpacker slowly being nudged out of Kathmandu. This side was called the ‘Baidam’ or the Lakeside. A new Freak Street in the making? I couldn’t help but wonder. Or maybe, it already was – going by the revelry and gay abandon that surrounded it. Oblivious to the merriment of the visiting revellers and turning a blind eye towards the romance of just-married couples, stands the Golden Temple of Varahi on a shaded island right in the centre of the lake.
Early next morning, I was back to where I had turned around the previous evening – the foot of the Min Hill, top of which was the World Peace Pagoda. The soul-white structure gleamed beckoningly in the water as me and my local buddy Shiba laboriously oared our boats closer. A tourist landmark, notably among the Buddhists, the Peace Pagoda is something not to be missed for the lovely views of the valley and the surrounding mountains. And of course, for the Buddha, in his meditating nirvana.

The Barahi Temple in the middle of the lake

After mooring our boat, we began the one-hour strenuous trek to the top. The higher we went, the view became more appetising. The fertile valley bared itself to us in all her subtropical glory. My cynicism towards brochure-claims for ‘being the only valley below 1,000 metres from where you can see mountains over 8,000 metres’ was slowly replaced by awe at the unfurling sights. Some of the eight-thousanders began to reveal themselves, though a bit grudgingly through the hovering clouds. The reflection of Machhapuchhre’s ‘fishtail’ peak on the Fewa Lake, a Kodak moment, is what I would give my left arm for.

The original inhabitants of Pokhara made home near the Fewa Lake. They were mostly from the Khas tribe. Later, during the 18th century, Newars from the Bhaktapur region migrated and settled here forming a sizeable chunk of the population. When the British set up recruitment camps here, the Gurung and Magar communities too resettled in the region. This made the valley a melting pot of cultures in its real sense.

The Min Hill. Note the Peace Pagoda at the top

The clouds cleared and I had our first view of the Annapurna range. Standing at a glittering 8,091 metres, the Annapurna I is the crown of the region which is called the Annapurna Himal. With a quiet grunt of satisfaction we reached the top of the hill only to find that two little girls had already reached before us. And they, were not even panting. The peace pagoda is a Buddhist stupa built to unite people of different races and religions in their prayers for world peace. Most of the peace pagodas have been built by Nichidatsu Fujii, a Buddhist monk from Japan. Fujii had a meeting with Mahatma Gandhi in 1931 and was deeply moved by the Mahatma’s teachings on non-violence. He decided to spend the rest of his life spreading the message all over the world. In 1947 he began his endeavour to construct peace pagodas all over the world, the first ones were in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The World Peace Pagoda of Pokhara

The foundation for this Peace Pagoda, laid in September 12, 1973, was destroyed. However after much difficulty and negotiation, it was completed on May 21st, 1992. This is one of the 100 peace pagodas all over the world. Around the pagoda is Buddha in four postures – signifying four stages of life. The view of the Fewa Lake and the Pokhara town below was too good from up here to let go. I had to let Shiba pluck me away from the railings and start the journey down.

Pokhara had more goodies in store.

Resham firiri on a high – the rise of Nepali music

wanderadmin — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 05:24:54 +0000

Any reason is good reason to make merry

Music has an undeniable role in the life of every Nepali. It throbs in every vein, beats in every heart. Till recent music was confined to soul-less belting out of tried and tested western numbers. And to raunchy renditions from the neighbouring Indian film industry. Not anymore. Here, there is a song for every occasion. Music is associated with all events in life – birth, death, marriage, festivals and feasts. Even office promotions are celebrated by the middleclass with much aplomb. Probably taking cue from this, foreigners in Nepal too shake a leg to a successful ascension or a miraculous escape. Going by the popularity it enjoys, Nepal music can be classified into four main categories – rock, pop, folk and classical. While pop and rock are usually inspired by its western counterparts, there is an earnest effort to revive fading music genres and preserve forgotten instruments.

Different castes, different festivals, different music

The music museum of Nepal is a noble step in that direction. This was established by Ram Prasad Kadel in 1995 as a tribute to his guru. “Here in this museum, we have over 400 instruments,” he tells me as we sip scalding tea from a disposable cup sitting on the stone steps of the museum building. Conservation as most of us know is not an easy task. One has to visit the most obscure places searching for forgotten instruments. This requires an extensive knowledge of the geography, culture and history of the places. In a society with a complicated caste structure this can be a tall order – with different instruments for different occasions even for the same caste. In a nation with over 60 ethnicities, the museum has an unenviable task.

“With more than 115 ethnic groups, it is very difficult to collect instruments from every nook and corner of the country,” he says of the practical difficulties. Now, the biggest daunt for Ram Prasad is updating his conservation techniques for which he needs more money. “I have been requesting the government for funds the last 16 years…or since I started the museum. Till now friends have been helping me out but now we have grown too big for a group of individuals to help.” Callous governments, the story is same everywhere. There is always something more urgent, of course.

The revivalists - Kutumba band

Preservation takes wings when practised. After looking and asking around on who would be the right guys – the revivalists, those responsible for a new surge of the indigenous, the torch-bearers of heritage, the proud notes of a new Nepal – I zeroed in on the Kutumba band. The band defines themselves as a ‘folk instrumental ensemble’. Their self-professed aim is to bring together traditional and oft-forgotten tunes and musical instruments with new, experimental sounds and tracks that appeal to a wider audience. Hailing from different family backgrounds, bringing with them diverse tastes and talents there is one thing that binds them – the love for music in general and Nepali music in particular. Arun Manandhar, Kiran Nepali, Rubin Kumar Shrestha, Siddharthan Maharjan and Pavit Maharjan started the band which is a household name today. They travel the length and breadth of the country giving shows which play to packed audiences. Everybody loves them as their music has the vibrancy of Nepali culture, the dynamism of the heritage and brims with new hopes that rise from whiffs of melancholy.

Life is definitely brighter - Ani Drolma

From tracking the revival of the forgotten music of Nepal, I moved to rejuvenating the rich traditions with richer influences. And reached the house of Ani Choying Drolma. Ani Choying Drolma. The accidental nun. The celebrated chanter. The singer with a cause. Born in 1971 to Tibetans in exile in Nepal, Ani Choying decided to become a nun to escape a physically abusive father. She was accepted to a nunnery at the tender age of 13 and soon began her training under the resident chant master. The head lama, the Rinpoche, recognised her talent and started to train her personally in the sacred chants of Buddhism. Having brought out 10 albums so far, the monies she gets from the sales help her support the dozen and more causes close to her heart. The flagship project of her foundation is The Arya Tara School, a free boarding school for nuns, where modern education goes hand in hand with traditional Buddhist studies. Along with the fruition of her dreams to uplift the Tibetan girl child from the biased clutches of society, Ani Drolma also brought a fresh nativity and an uplifting spirituality to local music.

“Singing songs doesn’t have to be necessarily about sadness as there are brighter aspects to life,” she told me. As testimony to her belief, Ani Drolma’s eyes twinkle all the time.

Music motifs are everywhere

The origins of the rich music tradition of Nepal can be traced back to the times of the powerful kings of the country who were all patrons of music and art. The Mallas were particularly fond of performing arts which were accompanied by music. The Newari brand of music is believed to have flourished during this era. Along with Newari, there are others too which enjoyed a flourishing patronage by the lords of the land. Gurung, Kirant, Deuda and Tamang are the important ones among them. The Dohori, meaning folksong in Nepali, is also seeing a slow revival in recent years.

Along with worthy efforts at preservation of a rich musical heritage, there are also defining influences which can only complement the ever-growing tradition that is Nepali music. The music of the hippy days, the 60s, was copycat rock and roll aped from the west. Later on Indian film music wielded the baton with cabaret and disco. Several trials and errors later, there is more or less a unanimity that the future of Nepal lies within Nepal. Precisely the reason why bands like Kutumba are very much in demand today.

Weaving carpets. And dreams – Jawalakhel Carpet Centre

wanderadmin — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 19:56:50 +0000

The city of Patan renowned as the city of fine arts is five kilometres from capital Kathmandu. This city, also called ‘Lalitpur’ which means ‘the beautiful city’, is also the oldest one in Kathmandu Valley. With approximately 1,200 Buddhist and Hindu monuments spread across the city, including the durbar square, Patan is a World Heritage Site listed by UNESCO. The great emperor Asoka is believed to have visited the city in 250 B.C. and the majority of the inhabitants are Buddhists. A city renowned for the unparalleled skills of its craftsmen inhabitants since time immemorial, the setting up of the Jawalakhel Carpet Centre here only added to this reputation.

Most of them fled Tibet with the Dalai Lama

Following the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1959, the Dalai Lama sought political asylum in India. Some 100,000 Tibetans too took flight with their leader. While some followed him to Dharamshala in India, others took up refugee in neighbouring Bhutan and Nepal. Those who came to Nepal were provided shelter in Jawalakhel near Patan, by His Majesty’s Government of Nepal in 1960. The refugees, for a while, subsisted on grants by international communities, notably the International Relief Programme. Among the refugees there were skilled carpet weavers who used to run their own carpet businesses in Tibet before coming to Nepal. Taking cognizance of this skill pool and its potential, the International Committee for Red Cross and the Swiss Association for Technical Assistance, now the Swiss Development Corporation, jointly set up the Jawalakhel Carpet Centre in 1960.

The Jawalakhel Carpet Centre, the pioneer in the carpet industry of Nepal, is synonymous with the Tibetan refugee camp. If you are asking for directions to the centre, more than carpet centre you should ask for the ‘Tibetan refugee camp’. This is a name which has stuck despite over half a century of existence and considerable contribution to the foreign exchange earnings of the country annually. The popularity of the name is because the centre provides employment to around 500 Tibetans. The surrounding area is taken up mostly by the families of these employees. Here, they go about their daily lives trying to bring in a semblance of normalcy. Then, no country, however accommodating can replace one’s own land. No land like homeland.

I don't dream anymore: Tsering

At the centre, I met Tsering, a pleasant girl with a distant look in her eyes. Tsering was born at the camp and like many of her generation had a decent education – she went to school and has recently graduated from college. As she tries for jobs, she uses her time and qualification to help in the running of the centre. Armed with a ready smile and full of energy, Tsering is a graduate in commerce and chips in with the administration and day-to-day functioning. She is pally with all the employees – many of whom who came here in 1960, when the Dalai Lama fled Tibet. However, with the recent geopolitical changes in the region, shifting affiliations and swinging loyalties, life for these homeless people is not what it used to be. While the hosts were accommodating and tolerant earlier, today Tsering and those of her generation finds a gradually increasing resistance from the authorities towards not only their religion and customs, but also their fundamental rights.
“I don’t dream anymore…” Her plight was encapsulated in the broken sentence. She went on to tell me how when a Chinese envoy visited Nepal sometime ago, her fellow Tibetans were detained as a precaution. “Of course, they weren’t harmed,” she adds hastily. Of course.

Hand labour out of choice

Against all odds, Tsering continues to weave her own dreams and looks forward to a tomorrow where she will have a country to call her own. Where she and her fellow countrymen will not be hassled, where their voice will be heard, their customs celebrated and traditions cherished. Today, the Jawalakhel Carpet Centre continues to be a cauldron of a thousand hapless dreams. An abode of another thousand helpless souls, resilient about a tyrannical fate with nothing but little, everyday joys and laughter to look forward to.

Whatever be their personal misfortunes, it goes without saying that the Jawalakhel centre churns out carpets that are a rug above the rest. What makes the carpets stand out is the wool used in the weaving apart from the dexterity of the craftsmen. Two types of wool are used in weaving the carpets – Tibetan sheep wool and wool from New Zealand sheep. The carpets woven from Tibetan wool gives more warmth and is durable, lasting several decades. The New Zealand wool gives more lustre, with the designs standing out brighter. At times the rugs are also woven with both the wool types mixed together to bring in the best of each.

The Centre employs over 500 Tibetans

The carpets from the hand spun wool have a unique lustre and softness and find their way to houses and offices all over the world. Dyed fast with the best quality colours as well as locally procured vegetable dyes, they also provide the much-needed boost to the local economy. The designs are mostly traditional Tibetan designs inspired from myths and folklore. As per order specifications, the craftsmen also deftly weave in contemporary, modern as well as Persian designs. The centre manufactures carpets in three categories – 100, 80 and 60 knots. A 100-knot carpet means there are 100 knots per square inch of the carpet. Similarly in 80 and 60-knot carpets, there are 80 and 60 knots in every square inch. The more the number of knots, the more it costs.

The Jawalakhel Carpet Centre has, over the years, carved out a niche for itself in the world carpet market. Operating out of this single-building premise, the carpets fly to all over the world to the homes of discerning customers. One reason for its rapidly growing customer-base is the unstinting attention to quality. During the 50 plus years in operation, never once has there been any complaint over the wool or the dye – something which the centre and its people are understandably proud of. The centre not only has a huge array of ethnic and contemporary design carpets of different qualities to choose from, but also manufactures as per customised specifications of size and design. The glory this ‘refugee camp’ has earned as a carpet-making centre of repute hasn’t diminished its primary responsibility to rehabilitate the disposed and the homeless Tibetans. A part of the profit is used to provide basic amenities like housing, basic healthcare facilities and education for schoolchildren. Proceeds from the centre are also used to run an old age home as well as to provide medical care for the aged and the needy. The physically and mentally handicapped are also taken care of at the centre.

Freedom is still a distant dream for Tibetans

The skills of the master craftsmen at the Jawalakhel Centre also serve to preserve and promote the tradition and lineage of Tibetan handicrafts. Being operational in the country for so many years, the centre and the elders here are familiar with the culture and the laws of the land. They help and guide the Tibetan youth as well as new migrants to the country with tips on peaceful coexistence with the hosts. Jawalakhel Carpet Centre, set up with the prerogative to help as many as possible, continues to rely on manual labour almost as a policy. This probably explains the consistency in quality and the unerring eye for design. However, excessive reliance on humans has its own baggage. Albeit, a negligible one. From placing the order to delivery, it can take anywhere between three to four months. This includes the processes – preparing the wool, spinning, weaving, trimming, washing and finishing touches, the banking procedures and the preparation of shipping documents. But worth the wait, considering that hand-woven rugs, made from Tibetan wool will be warming your hearth for years to come.

For more information on the carpets and other products, please visit www.jhcnepal.com

Nights in Nepal

wanderadmin — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 07:21:29 +0000

Rhythm in their blood

One of the advantages of not being a Nepali is that you can enter the casinos. The laws of the land officially forbid a native from gambling. However, this has not come in the way of the two valleys – Kathmandu and Pokhara – from becoming favoured destinations for the global gambler. There are four casinos housed in four of Kathmandu city’s top hotels and another one in Pokhara situated 200 kilometres to the west of the valley. Most of the casinos offer 24-hours of non-stop poker, blackjack, roulette, flush and other card games as well as slot machines. Some take a break during the odd afternoon hours, sprucing up for the big night.

Playground of Asian millionaires

I entered a popular casino one afternoon where the experienced and dapper-looking staff had already begun the day arranging the gaming tables for the long, night ahead. I could feel the excitement throbbing in the air – an excitement that can come only when you know millions are going to change hands in a few hours. In a span of a single night, millionaires will be made and some savings totalled. The staff set the tables with a silent efficiency, practising their warm, welcome smiles on me. I was hooked. As the night progressed, fortunes were made, changed hands or just flushed down the drain. Sighs were heaved – of relief and exasperation. Laughs are mostly nervous, some polite and a few from real delight. It is through the casinos that opulence descends on Nepal as the jet-setting millionaires from the booming economies of South Asia make this Himalayan country their playground.

Culture artistes have a difficult life

From high-stakes gambling to tamer cultural shows to tacky ones like horror show and the more risqué, vigorous ones – Nepal has it all. While city laws mandate that music must be switched off by 10pm, some manage to weave their way around this and manage to stay open till late. The tourist-friendly police turn a blind ear or eye towards the law-benders as long as they are not any nuisance to the public. Most of the cultural shows are staged inside the bigger star hotels or as part of popular restaurants. The performers work hard for a living – with some doing shifts at two or more stages in a single night. Like a typical tourist, I too decided to enjoy the best of both worlds – watching colourful culture unfolding as I dug into my dinner in a resort by the Fewa Lake.

Popular resorts arrange their own fare

In case too much of culture had me nodding off, I also bumped into options which kept me awake – with a scream. Ok, scream was an exaggeration, let’s say, a start. The Adhunik Manoranjan Ghar in Kathmandu Mall takes the last stand in a dying tradition where tacky tricks are employed to scare. The tricks try weakly and often with humorous results to make the hair on your limbs stand up. I barely escaped hissing serpents, dismembered skulls and the remnants of an Alcatraz interrogation. There was even one highly deplorable attempt to throw me off the edge of the world.

Nepal’s nightlife is not just about high-stakes gambling, enlightening cultural shows or ‘hair-raising’ horror shows. There are also the sinfully sensuous dance bars. However, many of the dance bars over the years have earned the dubious reputation for being fronts for organised prostitution. Numerous documentaries and budget videos also point an accusing finger at these joints, several of which are fly-by-night sleaze mongers who operate without proper licenses or clearances. There are many organisations who are working to free some of the girls trapped in prostitution rings. Some of them even allege that the girls are picked out by ‘talent scouts’ who frequent these bars. The girls are then sent to brothels in surrounding countries – of which India alone accounts for 5,000 annually.

Dapper staff man the gaming tables

Nevertheless, it goes without saying that these joints do contribute to the economic well-being of a sizeable chunk of the population. Many youngsters use this as a platform to more lucrative acting or modelling careers. Some I met were here to make money which would see them through college. For whatever reputation that precedes it, Nepal draws some strict lines when it comes to interaction between the sexes. In a society where public displays of affection are frowned upon and too much skin show is discouraged, these dance bars came as a mild shock to me. A sort of slight culture-startle.

Most of the time these dance bars are where the weary traveller, the bored businessman, the tired babu or just your average rich kid congregates to wind up a long day. The drinks are concocted with a heady mix of pulsating music and thrown back to lissom lasses and dashing dudes setting the stage on fire. There is commendable talent on display here, this is a showcase of agility and rhythm, a manifestation of fun and frolic so ingrained in the way of life. As I sat late in the dark, among a waning crowd, washing down my thoughts with cocktails, making new friends and cheering on the lone dancer who was gyrating half-hearted to a tired number, it was easy to understand why the Nepalis were a misunderstood lot.

Though the Nepalis look collected calm, almost to the point of cold once you talk to them, you find that they are nothing but. Chirpily effusive, peel the outer skin and they come across as a warm lot who are genuinely eager to help you. Neither the disparities of a remittance economy nor the laggardness of a rent-seeking behaviour were helpful in insulating them from the chaos of imposed modernity. Brought up in a land that survived on a rich legacy of centuries-old traditions, modernity was thrust upon them. Instead of the country slowly opening up to the rest of the world, the familiarisation happened the other way around.

Abruptly.

Backpacker paradise: Thamel

wanderadmin — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 19:52:49 +0000

Thamel in the noon calm

It is easy to be carried away by all the richness and diversity of the art and architecture of Nepal which has earned her the title ‘heritage country’. Honestly, I was getting a bit weary of it by now. But in a country with a landscape as varied as arid snow mountains to tropical jungles, with a multitude of ethnicities, limitless culinary spreads and a thriving tourist economy, the traveller is never at a loss for options.

I become Seethasharan, a barber near Thamel

Backpacking was more a lifestyle than a mode of travel during its early days. It started during the 60s with the hippie trail which was basically reliving and recreating parts of the journey along the ancient Silk Route. Periods of continued unrest in regions of Afghanistan, Iran and Iraq increased the allure of relatively peaceful havens like Nepal. The backpacker gladly set up base here which continues to flourish to this day in Thamel. However, it was in the Freak Street area that the first backpackers laid down their load. At that time, during the 70s, Thamel was actually removed from the town area – a place with fields and orchards, capering squirrels and chirpy birds. And an average-sized palace belonging to the Ranas – one of the ruling dynasties of Nepal. This was later converted to a heritage hotel and called the Kathmandu Guest House. Taking cue as the business picked up, others too opened hotels here as the other available areas had become congested by now.

Maheshwor of Newar de Cafe in Thamel

The choc-a-bloc Kantipath is one of the busiest and historical roads of Kathmandu. Traffic flows in an organised cacophony. As with the rest of Kathmandu town, here too, pollution levels are on an all-time high. The happy smattering of active foreigners amidst locals was illustrative of Thamel which started right next to the road. Thamel was where trekkers and mountaineers congregated to hire guides, porters and other support staff. They also came here to celebrate a successful ascent or an eventful escape in any of the several bars that dot this touristy neighbourhood.

Even Thamel goes to sleep, but really late

As with any other place that thrives on tourism, in Thamel too shops are aplenty peddling almost everything – from magazines and books to roadside art, from high-end trekking gear to eat-on-the-go. Hotels are not at all hard to find – there is one for every pocket. There are nationals from every part of the world who have come for every conceivable activity. From trekking and mountaineering to quieter pursuits like parikrama and pilgrimage, most of them use Thamel as the base. From here they take off on trips to the holy Mount Kailas or the Manasarovar Lake in Tibet or to closer destinations like the Pokhara Valley and the Chitwan National Park. Thamel also has, in the recent past, hogged limelight for the wrong reasons. According to a recent report by the BBC, the place was becoming a haven for drug dealers and criminals. There is, reportedly, a thriving trade in guns and small arms here. The report cited shopkeepers who claimed to have heard violent fights and gunshots in the neighbourhood. Small price to pay for the iconic popularity it enjoys.

With a Kashmiri Pandit in his thangka shop

My hunt for souvenirs took me into many of the numerous art shops lining the narrow Thamel lanes. Art in Nepal has a distinctive religious flavour about it. Most of the paintings in Nepal are vastly influenced by Indian and Chinese styles, in terms of colour and form. The preferred medium was the scroll painting for reasons of convenience – ease of transport. The two popular schools of paintings in Nepal are the thangka and Paubha. Though used almost synonymously, these are two distinct schools. The thangka paintings show deities with an amazing level of intricacy and attention to detail. Their postures are either tranquil or ferocious. To be a master in the art requires anywhere up to 15 years of training. While ‘Paubha’ is Newari for ‘Thangka’, the paintings are more vibrant and are used as story-telling devices. Both the schools of paintings thrive on the tourist trade and use folk art style to depict animals, deities and images of village life.

In a country with over 60 ethnic groups, diversity of music is a given. Besides the usual suspects like rock, pop and classic, there are also many genres which are yet to be documented. Nepalis have rhythm in their genes and music and dance are integral to any celebration. People cut a rug not just during a celebration, even during family get-togethers as well. As testimony to this love for music are the numerous music shops that dot Thamel.

Big Ed lives on in Rum Doodle

Named after the mountain in the hilarious account of an imaginary ascent, the Rum Doodle enjoys a fiercely loyal patronage among those high on adrenaline. What adds to the charm is that the summiteers of Everest are entitled to free food for a lifetime. Yog, the manager, told me that the Rum Doodle has the largest collection of signatures of the select club of Everesters. Besides the en-glassed signatures, there are also numerous ‘footprints’ which are messages and pithy tales of triumph from mountaineers, ecstatic scribbles, understandably in high spirits. Sure enough, though I was yet to scale any towering peak, I made my own ‘footprint’ at the Rum Doodle. And took it back with me as a souvenir.