Vijaya Dashami, the 10th day of Dashain festival
Vijaya Dashami, the 10th day of Dashain festival
Betrawati, Saturday, October 7th, 2000
amma (mother) Naradevi, babu (little boy) Arick (26 months), bua (father) Govinda, and bahini Bhumika
The Bhujul family in their shop along Naya Bazaar Marg
The Bhujul family in their shop along Naya Bazaar Marg
Naya Bazaar Marg, Kathmandu, July 15th, 2020
Sogot on his grandfather’s lap
Sogot on his grandfather’s lap
Betrawati, 2002
This porch, tucked under the eaves of the front of the house, is a great place to rest from the sun (or rain), and just watch life flow by.
Friends, neighbors, and relatives walk by on the wide dirt path out front.
In the mornings, sit here with a metal cup of buffalo-milk tea, blowing on it until it's cool enough to hazard a sip. Watch the children in their school uniforms, with their crisp white shirts and colorful ties, walking by from right to left, wool hats protecting them from the cool morning air. In the afternoon, see the same children come back the other way—now hatless in the afternoon's warmth—laughing and playing and chasing each other as they go.
On the far side of the path, eight steps made from large rocks lead down to a small path. You may hear the family's buffalo, or her newborn calf as you descend; reach out to give her a caring rub on her velvety forehead.
Forty meters on, beyond the rice field, feel the roar of the mighty Trishuli river as she crashes by. A deep, unending torrent of Himalayan snowmelt smashing and tripping and tumbling over boulders that survive only because they are larger than elephants.
Half a kilometer beyond, the brilliant green forested hills of Tupche rise up steeply. They become grey, then greyer still, then suddenly black as the sun drops behind them and the valley falls into night.
All of this is taken in by Sogot, as he sits here
on the lap of his loving grandfather.
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Bua and Ama
Bua and Ama
Betrawati, October 8th, 2000
[text below from a postcard I wrote on October 8th, 2000]
"...This is the day when all of the amas and buas [mothers and fathers] give their families tikas. Unlike most tikas, these ones are enormous and by the time you've gone to each of the tika-giving people—in my case, eleven—your whole forehead is almost covered.
Woven mats are unrolled in front of the house and all of the amas and buas sit on them—a plate made of metal or of leaves acts as their palette. There is a paint-like substance made from marigolds (I think), a blackish paint applied with a piece of wood, and a mixture of dry rice and red paint. To receive your tika, you hunch down in front of the giver so that your faces are about twelve inches from each other. As they apply the tika with their caring fingers, they softly speak a blessing in Nepali.
They're looking at your forehead as they apply the tika—but it feels like they are looking you straight in the eyes. Reading their faces, I felt like a favorite painting that an old master was putting a final touch on. For the first time I was able to appreciate the incredible beauty of my ama's eyes—her irises a rich brown inlaid with lace, and the outer edge a grayish moonlight blue.
After everyone has their tikas, we all sit on the mats and eat rice, vegetable sauce, goat, and curd from bowls made of leaves sewn together..."
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If you would like to donate to UNICEF’s Nepal Earthquake fund please click here.
My bahini [younger sister] Barsha and a boy (whose name I don't know) with their tikas.
As the ceremony was coming to an end, I spied this little girl carrying her mothers much-larger parasol and it was so sweet that I quickly took a photo.