Naya ghar ko puja

At least, I think that is how one would say "New house puja" in Nepali. On Saturday, Raju and I walked out to Dallu (a neighborhood beneath the famous Buddhist heritage site Swayambhunath stupa) to the home of Sarvaghya Bajracharya, the eldest brother of Raju's dance guru Prajwalratna Bajracharya. (There were six children in the family. At about 40 years, Prajwal Ji is the youngest.)

Sarvaghya is a Bajracharya by family/caste, and a "guruju" by trade. That is, he is an itinerant Newar Buddhist priest, going round to various Vihars or Buddhist temples (formerly monasteries long ago), performing ceremonies and reading ancient sutras as called upon.


(photo above: Newar Buddhist women prepare to worship the Prajnaparamita sutra at Kwa Bahal, Patan)

It was pitch black on the streets, as has become the norm these days. A few shopfronts stayed open with people congregating round candles and oil lamps. As if the people dwelling right on the open sewer of the Bagmati River weren't medieval enough, the lamplights reinforced my feeling that Nepal is going back into literal Dark Ages.

Like most urban Nepali dwellings, the residence was cramped and dark. The dim battery powered light showed the walls painted in a lurid turquoise. Sarvaghya sat on his bed (as guests we were given proper chairs, always a sign of respect). That afternoon, Mr Bajracharya had just been to a conclave of 21 other Bajracharya priests, at the Bidyeshwori temple just up the hill (one of my favourites - the home of AkashYogini or the Flying Space Vajrayogini).

The Buddhist community had honored 21 selected acting priests for their services. He held up a handsomely framed certificate that was in Newari language, but rendered in Devanagiri script, which means that I could sound out the words but had little idea what they meant.

Mr Bajracharya was very quiet, but understood more of my Sanskrit- and Nepali-sprinkled English than he let on. Raju acted as translator but often the priest understood my questions without translation.

I realized this was an ideal person to help inaugurate my new flat, and asked Raju to invite him to perform a New House Puja. He agreed, then we had a discussion about which exact puja of the dozens he knew would be appropriate. Sarvaghya decided something called "Kalasha puja" was ideal. The reason? Tara Puja is great, too, he said, but it is some three hours long. The Kalasha puja is "only" one and a half hours.

"the main aim of the kalasha puja is to make the deity present in the kalasha by means of sadhana and then through the abhisheka of the kalasha bring about participation in nirvana itself." (JK Locke, 1980)

We discussed where to get the necessary ingredients (I gave a 500Nrs -- about $7 USD - advance for the supplies - most likely rice, flowers, incense, various fruits and foods and oil lamps) and added that I wanted to get the classic Newar Buddhist Panch-Buddha signboard, as seen over countless doorways in Patan, to install over the entrance. Deluxe ones are available on wooden board; more transportable ones are on paper, pasted up like posters and renewed every so often.

I guess I will blend all my South Asian influences and also have the lemon-and-green-chili charm strung up over the doorway, as well as a garland of mango leaves in south Indian style! Oh and don't forget the Kollam. That is going to be one crowded doorway for a few days.

It also remained for me to choose my Ishtadevata (Tibetan "Yidam") or personal protector deity to invoke at the puja. I have to acquire an image (ideally a thangka or bronze statue) to be present. Vajrayogini is my personal favourite, but seemed a bit incendiary for a house-blessing. Maybe Avalokiteshwara, the 1000-armed benevolent Buddha now believed to be incarnated by HH the Dalai Lama. Then again Avalokiteshwara is, technically speaking, not a Yidam but a bodhisattva.

And the way things have been going lately, maybe we should invite at least one very strong Dipala or Protector Deity.

Then I asked Sarvaghya to choose a Muhurttam for me, or the most auspicious, appropriate day and time for the ceremony. He reached over his shoulder to the wall behind, where a long, rectangular paper brochure hung. It was a Nepali ephemeris, a sort of almanac designed for just such a purpose - to indicate the phases and "houses" of the moon, and appropriate dates for various ceremonies but every activity imaginable (planting, marriage, operations, applying for jobs and so on).

The ideal time and date was determined to be at 9AM Tuesday the 17th of February, on Ashtami (the 8th day of the waning moon).

As we left the darkness and went back out into even greater darkness, I reflected - rather cornily I admit - on the conditions of Nepal generally these days.

All Darkness, no light, and no power. Blankets of air pollution choking us off from the redeeming views of Himalayas, ground pollution (in the form of uncollected garbage), incessant noise pollution, unspeakable water pollution. The five elements of air, space, water, earth and fire all unrepentantly violated. (All right, I am not sure exactly how Fire is being violated; give me a minute, I will come up with something. Burning plastic garbage is pretty bad.)

On the way back to town we stopped at the Bidhyeshwori temple to pay a visit to the Space Yogini, flying through the ether with legs like wings. (my picture at right)

Where the earth meets the sky

Singin' in the rain
McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala

Has it really been a week since I wrote on the blog? -- unbelievable.
Yet, there is the evidence, in front of my eyes, on the Tibetan Rigpa calendar
(another calendar to keep track of - in addition to Hindu and Newari dates).
It's the year 2134 in Tibetan time.

The weather is really crazy- today we had:
1-cloudy morning,
2-heavy rainfall, then
3-beautiful sun WHILE it was raining
4- a rainbow
5-a hailstorm while sun came out and
6-around 6pm, yet another hailstorm, this time literally the size of moth-balls. You could have put an ice bucket out on the terrace and filled it quickly. I really thought it might break the windows!
and finally -
7-More lovely sun and another rainbow, only to be followed by
8-a late-night shower.

Tibetan tradition, like Indian and Nepali tradition, does everything by astrology (they have their own system which is a cross between Chinese and Indian astrology). This year is "an obstacle year" for His Holiness the Dalai Lama. In fact, for anyone turning 73 their 73rd year is considered an 'obstacle' year. So, there are extra "long-life" ceremonies being offered for him, for the past week. I call it "extra special very auspicious healthy lucky long life merit puja" (a take-off on the way Indians love to embellish things!).

Yesterday was quite remarkable - about a thousand (literally) Tibetans came all the way from Nepal and western Tibet regions to offer stuff (elaborate hand-made gilded Buddha and deity statues, sacks of rice, potted flowers, precious sacred Tibetan texts printed on the traditional long-paper and wrapped in silk, hand-woven
carpets, bolts of brocade and so on).

Hundreds of the old folks dressed in their "traditional dress" which looks
like a rainbow-striped circus crossed with Native Americans from outer space (don't know how else to describe it, really).

Sacred Stomping
As HH came into the temple, they started dancing. Tibetan folk dances look a great deal like Native American dances (small steps from side to side, moving in a circle and spiral). Like a lot of folk dances, the individual steps were not so remarkable - it's when seen in a large group that it really makes an impact. The ladies looked like a moving, shifting wall of rainbow colours. The men, in their heavy boots, stamp and whirl with long sleeves outstretched, resembling eagles' wingspans.

They dance in a large circle, facing the centre, where a single drummer (always male) pounds the very simple beat - again, a lot like Native American music. It feels very shamanic and tribal. Of course, now in addition to the drummer there is a
videographer. So, at least one thing has changed in the tradition. I reflected on how they probably used to dance around a fire. Now, they dance around a camera!

They always sing while dancing. The men start their vocals, low and earthy. Then after a verse or so the women come in with their soaring singing and it sounds like the sky meeting the earth. What it must be like to see these dances on the open steppes under the endless blue sky of Tibet!

Most of the dancers were 50 yrs old or older, and one probably never sees such a gathering of traditional Tibetan attire even in Tibet, these days.

Wizards of Weather
To get my photographer's press pass for tomorrow's Extra Special Lucky Puja, I had to go allll the way down to "the library," which is the name for Lower Upper Dharamsala where the Tibetan Govt. offices are. (There's Lower Dharamsala, Upper Dharamsala / McLeod Ganj, and then what I call "lower Upper Dharamsala" below the temple, "Middle Upper Dharamsala" and "upper Upper Dharamsala" - above the main road). I was helped by a sweet-natured fifty-something Tibetan woman named Sonam Wangmo. It turns out she attended NYU on a Fullbright scholarship.

We discussed the crazy weather (always a fecund topic for conversation here) and she casually mentioned, "You know, maybe we should call a Ngagpa. Do you know what a Ngagpa is?" (pronounced "nakpa").

I did indeed. "A Ngagpa is a kind of Tibetan sorcerer or wizard."

"Yes, they can stop the rain - or make it rain, or snow. They can control the weather."

"Perhaps you should have one on staff!" I half-joked. Really, it would be a good idea.

"Yes...but you know," she added on second thought, "we do need the rain. Water is such a problem always here in Dharamsala." It is one of the weirdnesses of the locale that a place receiving so much rainfall (#2 rainfall in India, after Cherrapunji) also suffers from water shortages.

The whole conversation was very matter-of-fact -- as though Sonam had been discussing the pros and cons of hiring a particularly difficult plumber.

It is really lightning out and I have to walk back to the village before it starts raining AGAIN!

Diwali walli* goes Nepali

Festivus maximus
Kathmandu and Lalitpur, Nepal

*Wallah: someone who is particularly expert at or specializes in a certain activity or profession. Walli: feminine of Wallah.

Everything happens at once, all the time, here. We're now in the middle of yet another cluster of festival days. This one is Diwali, aka Tihar, the Hindu festival of lights and Lakshmi, goddess of wealth and abundance. Some things are closed, some are open for business, many look deceptively open yet are operating on skeleton crew.

Naturally, all government offices are closed. In fact, I think they were literally closed more days than they were open this month.

Bunches of dressed-up, beaming people roam the streets, butter-lamps are lit at in doorways at dusk, children make the rounds singing and drumming deusi-bailo (a sort of Newari trick-or-treating from door to door) in the evenings. Every home and shop has a rangoli (sort of mandala-design invitation to the goddess, painted with cow dung, coloured powder, lamps and flower petals) at the front door - a painted pathway to guide Lakshmi as she enters to bless the residence. Everywhere you can hear the sounds of ringing puja bells, and Newari panchbhaje bands go from door to door playing their distinctive, reedy ceremonial music. A few months ago I wrote about the snake holiday (Naag Panchami). I can really hear the snake spirit in the sounds of the long, narrow Newari horns.

New Newaris
Today I am rushing to get some prints made for Pramochan, one of the (the many) Newari masked dancers I photographed this past Dasain season. On Dasain day, I received tikka and jamara (red powder on the forehead and sprigs of barley behind the ear) from Pramochan's father. Tikka and jamara are a sort of blessing given from elders to juniors on Dasain day. So, Pramochan's familiy (all five of whom live in a traditional Nepali wooden house, which looks like a hayloft with a five-foot ceiling) have invited me to Mha Puja. (Yet another puja!)

I love the tradition of jamara, which is (as far as I know) unique to Nepal. On the first day of Dasain, the lady of the house plants seeds of barley, rice or corn, in a bed of sand, in a special niche inside the home. The seeds are then covered and allowed to sprout secretly in warmth and darkness. It's during these nine days that the goddess Durga is symbolically fighting evil. On the tenth day, Vijaya Dashami, the jamara is uncovered and revealed to have grown into long, bright green grassy stalks. The stalks are then ritually harvested and bestowed upon juniors by the family elders.

Everyone walks around town with an enormous red dot (made of red kumkum powder, rice and yogurt) on their foreheads and chartreuse sprigs sprouting from their hair like feathers (see photo below). Nepalis absolutely love tikka and jamara ("sooooo beauty-full") and seemed very proud to be seen with me, once I was properly marked.

Today's festivity, Mha Puja, is done only by the Newari community on the occasion of Newari New Year (it's now 1126). This ceremony honours and blesses the individual's body for the coming year. Fortunately I have a Newari and Nepali interpreter and hope to find out more about it. I am bringing the prints as a present for the family. (Others might get away with bringing a box of sweets, but as a foreigner with a digital camera, I am honour-bound to provide free prints to the family. I think it's a tradeoff for the stigma they might otherwise receive of associating with a foreigner.)

Rituals in transfigured time
Here in Nepal, we are running three simultaneous calendars. The business calendar is (sort of) the "English" or Gregorian calendar. Then there's the Vikram Sambat or Nepali Hindu calendar, in which it's 2063 and the new year is in April. It is quite common for buildings to boast of having been "established in 2059" (my Australian friend Dave took a photo of this - he thought it was a typo), or for people to say "the conference will begin after 10 Bhadra."

When yet another time cycle, the Newari calendar, starts tomorrow, and it will be 1127. The Newari new year is figured from our AD 867, when legend has it that a Newari Jyapu (farmer caste) discovered a riverbed of gold, and thus paid off everyone's debts. A good way to make a fresh start.

Now if I could just make some money and pay off a few of my debts...guess I will be offering Lakshmi extra marigolds and butter lamps for that one.

New widgets on the block!
Feeds, widgets, clusters, tags, bookmarklets, clouds, sprinkles, aggregators, badges. I'm just now learning about the galaxy of nifty blog features and how they procreate.

I've added a couple of new widgets (nifty code dropped into my template to do cool things) to the blog site. The SirenLocator Map (requires Flash, I think) should show online viewers as they appear, and even reveal a map of their nation (for those unclear on geography).

Scroll down and you will find the Current Moon Phase, essential for life in Nepal and other parts of Asia.

My SirenDelicious feed shows my favourite items and headlines saved to Del.icio.us. And Global Voices headlines feed show selected headers from the Nepali and Indian blogosphere.

Coming soon: my very own tag cloud, and a Newsvine widget. Oh, and I've finally caught up and gotten myself a YouTube account, but some stupid folk singer already snatched the name Sirensongs....so SirenTV will be appearing as "SirensongsIndia." Maybe someday I'll figure out how to upload my many videos directly to this site.

Dancing days are here again

Lost in a masquerade
Lalitpur, Nepal

Indra Jatra, Dasain and Kartik Purnima mean it's time for the ritual masked dances of the Newari people. I'm currently engrossed in tracking them down (obscure, community-based, secretive besides the language problems) and documenting them. Last night I went to Lalitpur (Patan) to see the Ashtamatrika (Eight Goddesses) dance of the Newari Buddhist community. I only have time to upload one photo right now (before running to Immigration).

I have seen lots of masked dancing by now, and I think the Ashtamatrikas are the most exciting yet. They seem to be the most classically influenced, and the most ritualized. These dances were begun in the 1600s on the orders of the Lalitpur king (at that time it was one of the rival 3 kingdoms of the Kathamandu Valley), who was a great devotee of the eight guardian goddesses.

The transformation of the dancers, as soon as they don the mask, is really astonishing. They assume a hands-on-hips stance and begin trembling with shakti.

Hundreds of people from the community turn out and follow the Goddesses on their journey from Nakabahil (courtyard of the dance-god) to the courtyard of Taleju Bhavani Temple, where the gothic gables tower over the dancing devis.

I was the only foreigner there. It amazed me that so few outside people know about the vibrant, living culture of the valley, especially since it's been going on continually for the past four hundred years.

Last night there was a power cut, so we were marching through the cobblestoned streets in candlelight - it felt like the dances must have one hundred years ago.