Hri Institute for Southasian Research and Exchange

Last weekend, Kathmandu hosted to the Kathmandu LitJatra the nation’s first international literary festival. One goal of the festival was to “take Nepali literature to the global stage”, in part by demonstrating the multiplicity of narratives and voices that make up literary works in this country.

Five artists, all currently based in Kathmandu, performed in Sunday night’s show: Bharat Nepali, who also teaches at Kathmandu University’s School of Ethnomusicology; Barta Gandharva, who is one of Nepal’s only female Gandharva performers; Rubin Gandharva, whose voice and political lyrics have earned him a name throughout Nepal; Bhim Gandharva, a musician whose talent often leaves listeners mistaking him for another, older and more famous, sarangi player; and Binod Gaunle, a talented new artist for whom this was a maiden sarangi concert.

And how did the Gandharva artistes come to perform at the Litjatra? The organizers went to the Music on the Move concert in May, and were won over by the performers and their music. Hri’s music festival held in Kathmandu and Bhaktapur was centred entirely on Gandharva music. Surabhi Pudasaini and Lochan Rijal , two of the lead members of the research team, set out to highlight the skills and variety of musical talents of the Gandharva musicians. They also wanted to bring together Gandharva from throughout Nepal to meet one another. One attendee described it as both entertaining and enlightening, to see the variety of musical and linguistic styles on display from what is sometimes considered a singular musical sound. Another took pleasure from the performances by those players who had not previously played before ‘such audiences’. [Forthcoming: links to the Kathmandu event.]

Since the concert, it has been energizing to see how some in the audience have invited the

musicians to play in other, diverse, venues. For example, a slam poetry/spoken word competition earlier this year juxtaposed lyrical pieces by the folk musicians with those performing a different type of composition. It would be an easy mistake to present these as opposing art forms in both origin and practice. But while the slam poetry of New York, for example, is obviously not identical to the public performances of early 20^th Century Nepal, both have been ways of expressing political sentiments through a verbal art form. The positioning of the two is unusual more because of who listens/relies – or listened/relied – on each. You could easily argue that the performances of the poets, both today and historically, have been tied to cities, whereas the Gandharva provided a similar ‘service’ in rural areas.

But that is an aside. Now to return to the performance on 18 September at the Gokarna resort…

On the evening-of, the lead up to the show was a bit rocky (no earthquake-related pun intended). A forty-five minute traffic jam delayed our arrival at the dinner site. Once we got there, some event organizers were greatly distressed at the realization that our performers were not all dressed in matching outfits. (Had we been informed of the “necessity” of this beforehand, we could have averted the “crisis”…) As it was, a mad rush for identical Nepali-dress ensued. The artistes were kind enough to not hold this against Hri, and took the costume changes well in stride. For this, and their performance that night, they have our tremendous gratitude and respect.

Although the show was only 45 minutes long, the music highlighted the distinctive style of each of the performers. Bharat Nepali’s original compositions drew from Bhaktapur traditions, and exuded tranquility. Barta’s compositions fused traditional Gandharva melodies with Newar influences, both in music and lyrics. The theme of the latter and the emotion of the former melded seamlessly.

All three of Bhim’s songs were fully instrumental numbers, one traditional Dasain song [note: this is not Bhim, but Tilak Gandharva from Dang] and two Kaundas, the musical accompaniment to a Gurung-Magar dance. (Bharat Nepali had not heard Bhim play since he was very young, and was taken aback by the beauty and clarity of his music. The look on his face when Bhim started playing made for much laughter among the others.)

Like Barta, both of Rubin’s compositions were original ones. Rubin has a formidable ability to create brilliant music that is also highly politically conscious. Kati pachi paaryau hamilai is one such song. Composed some eighteen months ago, the song points at the hypocrisy of caste-based discrimination in Nepal. One poignant verse asks how a society that relies on a metalworker to fix a broken temple can, with any conscience, refuse entry to the same individual.

The night brought to attention the talents of the younger generations of Gandharva artists.  Their creativity and commitment to music help ensure that their communities are recognized for their contributions to Nepali arts.

Of the numerous traditional instruments played by the many communities of Nepal, the melodies of the sarangi are the most ubiquitous. The story behind the instrument’s wide reach is inextricably tied to the history of the Nepali state. When Prithivi Narayan Shah set out from Gorkha to conquer the kingdoms surrounding his, eventually giving shape to the nation-state of Nepal about as it stands today, the sarangi and its musicians became the media wing of his war strategy. With each victory, the Gandharva musicians composed narrative tales of the battles and praised the king to his new subjects, travelling to the far corners of the land. After they ceased to be crucial to the ambitions of the kings, Gandharva musicians continued to move from village to village, functioning as sources of both information and entertainment.

Inevitably, the travelling Gandharva musician is today well on his way to being confined to the realms of history. But his sarangi remains a living force, constantly heard on radio stations, TV channels and CDs, be it as traditional lok geet, in popular songs or in the score of TV serials. The truth is that the sarangi – because of its initial patronage by the court and its subsequent geographical spread – enjoys a disproportionate amount of air time as compared to the other instruments of Nepal. (The patronage did not, however, result in significant benefits for the musicians, their families and the community at large, with the Gandharva falling within the so-call ‘untouchable’ caste.)

Popular though the sarangi is, the instrument is essentially used to render popular/film music and a limited number of well know traditional tunes. In this, the established Gandharva repertoire, an entirely oral tradition, is being lost with the younger general of musicians largely playing mainstream commercial music to make a living. On the other end of the spectrum, considering the economic and social compulsions within the community, little space is available for experimentation both in the making of the instrument and the music itself. There are, of course, notable exceptions to this, as will be explored in the course of the next few posts.

Over the next year, the Hri Institute’s team of researchers will travel to five locations within Nepal, speaking with and recording Gandharva musicians; learning about the organology of the sarangi; and documenting both traditional styles/tunes that are rapidly being lost as well as experimental and innovative efforts by the community. We hope you will travel with us at this blog and at www.hrisouthasian.org. (surabhip)