Maoist women struggle with authority

Smriti Dewan is a young theatre artiste. One day she fell down and hurt herself during physical practice. Her instructor told her that she could take a few days off instead of performing up to the last day. But Smriti was having none of it. “Why should I leave?” she protested. “I am supposed to stay till the last day, and I will.”

Smriti, 23, spent more than four years as a Whole Timer (WT) in the then Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist), taking part in cultural activities like singing and dancing. The discipline with which she approaches tasks today is a remnant of those days. “We followed strict rules for everything,” recounts she, “we did everything on time, we did whatever we were supposed to do.”

Many other former WT women recall their regulated life with fondness. “It’s true that we lived under an iron rule, but we were happy in it,” says Sharada Mahat, 34, who was a WT political worker during the decade-long conflict. She recounted that everything from what they should eat, to how they executed their military operations, and even to who they married, was decided by the party. “We felt that it was as it should be, that life should be ordered and rules and regulations should be followed by all.”

Anoopam, 31, a former combatant from Jajarkot, recounts that women strove to prove they were capable of whatever rules were set for them. “Even during military operations, women would make sure they reached their target on time and did whatever was expected of them, even if it meant a cost to their health,” she remembers.

Spending a significant amount of time as WT in the Maoist party has left many women with a complicated relationship with authority. On the one hand, they have deep respect for authority, order and regulation, which they have carried into their lives even after they stopped being WT. On the other hand, their attitude towards official authority, including the army and police, is the exact opposite.

Some of them were inspired to join the Maoists after someone close to them was abused by the authorities. Anoopam’s cousin was killed in 1998 by the police, while some others, like Sharada, suffered at their hands in prison. Sharada was arrested for her political activism and spent three months in custody and several more months in prison. Her lower back still hurts sometimes from the beating she received then. Throughout their life underground, these women were used to calling the army and police ‘enemy’. Now that they have assimilated back into society, the question of how to address and view them seems to perplex them.

They have tried myriad approaches, and each woman has a different stand.  Sharada has tried to rationalize her feelings. “I don’t think of them as ‘enemy’ anymore,” says Sharada, “now that the conflict is over, I see them as normal people.” But she also admitted that she is still scared when she sees them suddenly. Her intuitive reaction takes over despite the logical conclusions she arrived at.

Anoopam, a veteran of more than 40 military operations, seems to be working towards a closure on this issue, telling herself that the army and police were just doing their duty. “They have taken the salt of the government, so they had to do what they did. I am sure they are not evil or anything,” she explains, her eyes reflecting a maturity born out of experience.

But many still struggle to accept an authority they had learnt to detest. Sushila Rana*, 28, a former combatant from Rukum, is one of them. “The enemy is indiscriminate,” she explains. Some teachers in her village were killed by the police even though they had never supported Maoists. “The teachers never even gave food and shelter to our seniors because they did not like Maoists, but a shell thrown from a hilltop cannot tell a Maoist and non-Maoist apart.” Such incidents helped consolidate her faith in her own organization, which she believed was more logical and wise. She still has traces of vengeance for the army and police that inflicted such deep wounds.

Extreme incidents that left a deep impact also served to create a binary viewpoint regarding authority for these women. In contrast to the highhanded government authority they saw as indifferent outsiders, they saw their own side as a true “people’s party” that was sensitive to the issues of the people and took decisions accordingly. Uma Bhujel, a noted Maoist leader, differentiates between an imposed authority and an ideologically credible one in her book Banda Parkhal Dekhi Khula Akash Samma. “The ‘enemy’ is not intellectually convinced of its authority, but is merely a rented mercenary,” she writes, implying that the party hierarchy she herself accepted was infused with belief.

This belief had significant ramifications on the women’s worldviews. Once they were convinced that they were on the ‘right’ side, they came to believe in a black and white picture where their side can do no wrong. Sharada believes that Maoists never inflicted the kind of torture that she herself received from the police, Smriti believes that the Maoists did not hassle villagers, and it was Maoist pretenders who gave real Maoists a bad name. In fact, multiple reports paint a more nuanced picture where atrocities were committed by both sides.

In contrast to the draconian authority in government military institutions, Sushila believes the decisions taken by her own party were democratic. “There were many discussions, and we were allowed to have our input,” she recounts, again despite contradictory reports of many incidents of coercion by the Maoists. She herself had wanted to join the Nepal Army after the conflict, but was persuaded to opt out and join the Young Communist League (the party’s youth wing) instead. She did it—against her will—because for her, “the party’s command was the most important thing.”

Years spent defying one kind of authority and blindly submitting to another has left these women with disparate relationships with authority. They believe that society should live under certain rules, and that regulations and punishments should be applicable to all, but most of them question authority that is imposed. However, once they believe that what they are doing is right, they are likely submit to it fully. Ideological coaching seems to have had an important role in shaping these attitudes, where the decisive factor is whether or not the ideology of an authority convinces them as ‘right’.

*name changed

(An old article, published in July 2014 in Republica)

An extraordinary flight

n their annual ritual, birds from colder regions have started arriving in Nepal, making our land more colorful with their varied plumages. It’s well known that birds travel to warmer climates in winter and back to cooler climates in summer. The lack of important resources like food and shelter drive them to warmth in winter, while the competition for the same motivates them to go back to cooler regions in summer. Nepal hosts about 150 species of migratory birds during winter, and about 60 in summer. The birds that come in summer lay eggs and raise their young in Nepal, while the opposite is true for birds that visit in winter.
 

Every year, migratory birds traverse almost the same routes. Whether their behavior is genetically motivated or if there are some conscious decisions behind it are subjects of study for ornithologists. Migratory birds use a variety of ways to navigate, many of which aren’t fully understood yet.

A lot of their behavior is genetic: birds kept in captivity are known to show restlessness, overfeed, and generally move towards the right direction when it’s time to migrate. Birds are also supposed to have an internal compass that helps them detect directions according to the Earth’s magnetic compass.

At the same time, birds have also have been known to learn migration: they use landmarks like hills, rives, etc, or the night skies, to navigate, which indicate intelligent processing of information. Birds that migrate by night navigate with the help of stars and moon.

Jyotindra Thakuri, Conservation Officer at Bird Conservation Nepal, informs that the birds’ orientation is disturbed by atmospheric elements like clouds, and ducks that migrate by night are known to stop on cloudy or foggy nights.

Conversely, birds that migrate by day navigation do so with the help of sunlight and landmarks. Some diurnal immigrants to Nepal include step eagles, peregrine falcons, and demoiselle cranes. These birds are known to memorize landmarks like hills, rivers, etc. When landmarks change due to natural processes, like erosion, etc, or human processes like construction of new cities, it confuses birds.

Migratory birds show other indicators of learning migration. While a novice migratory bird may get lost, experienced birds can judge things like directions and wind drift better. They pass on their skills to younger ones, proving that learned knowledge isn’t just the domain of human beings.

Some birds also get lost and turn up miles away from their destination, proving that migration is’'t entirely an intuitive process. Jyotindra informs that Nepal has recorded some vagrant birds, like the rare Black-Necked Crane, which normally migrates to Tibet, India and Bhutan. And at other times, birds just forget to migrate back to their homeland in summer after they have spent the winter in Nepal. Surprisingly, their body adapts to the climate of the Nepali summer, which is warmer than the summers of their homeland.

The amount of stopovers a bird makes varies according to the species. Bigger birds like bar-headed goose can cross the entire journey from Siberia in two days, stopping only twice on the way. Smaller birds and ducks stop many times on the way and take a month or more on the journey.

The European widgeon is among birds that fly the farthest to reach Nepal, coming to Nepal from the remote parts of Western Europe. Birds gain the energy for these remarkable flights through voracious feeding before their flight. Birds that don’t stop over especially require considerable stores of energy. They eat so much before flights that the extra fat they put on may even double their weight. By the time they arrive at their destination, they will have lost most of their extra fat.

Lack of food and energy isn’t the only thing that these voyagers have to contend with. Their flight is also fraught with dangers to their life.

“Birds of prey like golden eagles and falcons routinely attack smaller ones like demoiselles,” says Jyotindra, “and reaching their homeland safely is uncertain for these little birds.”

The concept of “homeland” for these migratory birds is vague, because wintering birds stay in Nepal for half the year, from October to April. Nepal is as much their home as their summering ground in Northern Asia or Europe. And yet, many of these birds, like Siberian ducks, are named after northern regions like Siberia or Mongolia. “They are named after areas where they were first spotted and recorded,” informs Jyotindra.

Some varieties of the Lesser Cuckoo, which come over to Nepal from Africa to lay their eggs and raise their young, are identified as African for the same reason—when it could be reasoned that Nepal is more their home because here is where they raise their young. Nepal is the Lesser Cuckoo’s summering ground, just like Siberia is for the birds that come to Nepal in winter. 

Migratory birds in Nepal mostly head towards the wetlands, though some of them also like to live in forests and farmlands. Wherever they go, the birds have important ecological functions to fill in the cycle of nature.

“Birds are an indicator of environmental health,” says Jyotindra. “The presence of migratory birds indicates that our environment contains the resources required to sustain them.”

The yearly arrival of birds in Nepal proves that it is a haven not just for human beings but also for these feathered beauties. It’s that time of the year again when we enjoy lively visitors from distant lands. And this year, we won’t just enjoy their beauty but also respect the hardships that they go through to reach our Himalayan land.

Some facts about migrating birds:

·         The speed of migrating birds varies from 30 km/hr for small birds, like hummingbirds, to 100 km/hr for larger ones, like geese.

·         Bigger birds can fly as far as 800 kilometers without stopping. This enables birds like the Bar-Headed Goose to complete the entire journey in 2-3 days.

·         Birds may fly as low as 500 meters and as high as 9,000 meters above ground.

·         Many migratory birds spend a large part of their lives flying. The Arctic Tern flies to the Antarctic region in winter and flies back to the Arctic region in summer to lay eggs and raise its young. It spends up to eight months in flight, crossing the Earth twice every year.

The Ritual of Lights at Pashupati

Every evening at the Pashupatinath Temple, people gather on the other side of the ghats. The entire place lights up with diyos. It’s the time for arati that’s been held every day for the past eight years.

The arati ritual consists of two parts: music and light. With three musicians playing a flute, a harmonium and a table each, the music starts with an invocation to Lord Shiva, the reigning deity at the temple of Pashupatinath.

The prayer to Lord Shiva is found in our classics, and is followed by a prayer to Bagmati, a Sanskrit lyric composed by Swami Khemraj Keshav Sharan more than two decades ago. Next is a prayer to the Panchayan deities: Shiva, Vishnu, Durga, Surya, and Ganesh.

There is also a short worship of Goddess Saraswati, and an arati song in Nepali, also by Khemraj Keshav Sharan, that’s very popular with the devotees.

Perhaps the next segment is the most popular: devotees seem to be in anticipation of it. The tempo rises to the beats of the rousing Tandav Stotra, supposed to be written by Ravan, an ardent devotee of Lord Shiva. As soon as the music starts, several people start dancing on the sidelines. There are children in the group, women and also young men, and all of them dance with abandon.

When this segment is over and the calmer music starts, the dancers leave. But many people still listen to the Panchakshar Stotra: a hymn where the first letter of each line comes from Namah Shivaya (the first line starts with Na, the second with Ma, and so on).

By the time the Rudrashtakam starts, the crowd has thinned, but most of the people who remain sing along, as they have been doing from the very beginning.

The Rudrashtakam is a hymn beginning from the eight (ashta) letters of Rudra, one of the many names that Lord Shiva goes by with. Finally, the music ends with a call to many famous gods in Nepal, including Baba Muktinath, etc. Flowers are then offered to Bagmati and Prasad is distributed to devotees.

The arati, on the other hand, is a spectacle worth watching. Three priests line up on the bank of Bagmati from where the Pashupatinath Temple is in their direct line of vision.

“First, we start with incense,” informs Pundit Bheem Bhattarai who has been part of the arati ritual since its inception eight years ago. Next, they worship the Lord with coal incense which burns with vegetable oil and many different woods.

The major attraction of the ritual comes next, where three large structures with fifty-four diyo (small oil-lamp) each are raised to the Lord. “It’s well known in Hindu culture that gods like light, and that’s what we offer when we offer them an arati,” says Bheem.

In perfectly synchronized motions, the priests first dip the lights four times on the bottom, then circle it seven times on the top.

“It’s a standard ritual that we train in before we practice it,” says Bheem. “The motions at the bottom symbolize the worship of the Lord’s feet, and those on the top are for his head.”

Each of the items of worship is rotated in this manner. But the beauty of the motions is particularly evident with the diyos, their grandness is spectacular to watch on a dark night.

The arati made of camphor (kapoor) in a big vessel accompanies the Tandav music. After this, the priests worship the Lord with a piece of cloth, a fan made of peacock feathers, and the tail of a yak.

“These items offer coolness,” says Bheem. “Lord Shiva must be hot and tired after the Tandav dance, and the coolness will comfort him.”

Finally, the ceremony ends with the ring of bells and blowing of conch shells.

Durga Prasad Khatiwada, a musician who plays the flute to accompany the arati every day, informs that the music of bells and conch shells is dear to gods.

“The logic of ringing bells in a temple early in the morning is to wake up the gods with a sound they like to hear,” says Durga. Since Durga is one of the founding members of the Shri Pashupatinath evam Ganga Arati Sewa Samiti, he had acquired information about this ritual. The current general secretary of the committee, he shares that the idea to start this ritual came from such rituals conducted in India.

“As a student at Benaras Hindu University, I and other friends had seen such worship of the River Ganga in India,” he remembers. “And we thought, why don’t we do the same in Nepal? After all, the holy River Bagmati is also a form of Ganga.”

Eight years ago, when they started out as a formal organization, they weren’t encouraged. A lot of people believed they wouldn’t be able to do it every day, all the year round.

“It was suggested that we do it just once a month,” says Durga. But eight years later, the ritual flourishes and continues to attract devotees by the droves.

The ritual is run on funds generated by sponsors: anyone who wishes to sponsor an arati for their birthday, wedding, or other occasion can do so. In this case, the arati begins with a sankalpa where the priest conducts a pooja with milk for the sponsor. It ends with a Pushpanjali from the sponsor’s hands. On the days when there are no sponsors, the members of the committee sponsor the arati themselves.

Durga informs that the committee plans to continue the increasingly popular ritual for as long as possible, with the help of a trust fund they are planning.

 “The arati is a bhakti marga, one of the ways devotees use to please god and reach god,” says Bheem. But as usual, religion plays more than one function. Not everyone who comes to watch the arati does so to reach god.

Mahesh Sharma, 35, works at Tribhuvan University and has been coming to the arati regularly for the past few years.

“It gives me a sense of peace by coming here,” he relates. “And I’ll come as long as the Lord wills it.”

Mahesh is of the opinion that engaging in this spiritual activity prevents him from vices, including gambling, addictions, etc.

Many others, including Bheem, are of the opinion that the ritual provides a path for youngsters that distracts them from vices. It is also a platform for youngsters to express their energy by dancing, and a way to socialize and meet people. Many come just to enjoy the visual spectacle and take in the pleasant evening ambience.

Besides, the roles of public rituals in a city’s cultural life are many. The arati ritual has now become a part of the city’s cultural life, so much so that many youngsters assume it has always been there. In fact, as said before, the daily rituals began only about eight years ago.

“The ritual is about respecting and increasing the glory of the River Bagmati and Pashupatinath Temple,” says Durga. “It enhances not just the beauty of the temple but adds to the fame of the entire city.”

The arati at Pashupatinath is held at 6:30 pm during summer and 5:30 pm in winter.

Chronicler of sufferings

Three pairs of hands, each colored a different color. Legs knee deep in gold. There is no question that these pictures are beautiful. But once you find what they are about, the pictures are also very disturbing. The exhibition of photographs by Lisa Kristine is centered on the subject of slavery, and behind their perfect compositions, they tell stories of pain, coercion, and torture. The red, blue and black hands belong to silk dyers, and the legs belong to gold miners, all of them forced to work for minimal pay without options to leave. There are more provocative images in her gallery: two young boys carrying slabs of stone like adults, men and women coated in dust at brick kilns. Sewa Bhattarai talked to Lisa about the superhuman courage it takes to be a witness to sufferings day after day. Lisa, in her own words:

On her interest in photography

When I was eleven, my aunt and uncle gifted me a camera. It became a tool for me to express myself and relate to people. Then I took pictures of friends and families. But if I look back, it’s very similar to what I do now. I was always interested in something super authentic, not the happy face necessarily, but a sense of infinity in somebody’s gaze, or just something touching about them.

On traveling

I live in San Francisco in California, and I have two children. I’ve been travelling since I was eighteen, and have traveled constantly for the last thirty years, photographing people of different indigenous cultures. The rhythm of being on the road is a rhythm that has always been. There comes a grace with it, as you do it frequently. I’ve never been to one country that I wouldn’t return to.

For the project on slavery, I travelled to India, Nepal and Ghana. I’ve been to Nepal 6-8 times, the first time was in the eighties. I travelled around, took photographs of wonderful astonishing human beings. I’m not so drawn to cities, but I love Kathmandu.

On Modern-day Slavery

In 2009, I met a few supporters of the organization Free the Slaves. Though I knew that trafficking existed in sex trade, I had no idea that at that time there were more than 27 million people enslaved.

Like everyone else, I had assumed this was taken care of in the 1800s. Ten years ago when the NGOs opened up trying to raise money to fight slavery, nobody believed them and nobody gave them money. But the definition of slavery is of people exploited and lied to, forced to do something against their will, not being paid, put under threat of violence, and given no choice to walk away. And there are still millions who fit this description.

That just hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. I flew down to LA to meet with the organization, and said I was going to help them.

 

On the emotional impact of her work

All my work impacts me emotionally. Once, in a brick kiln in India, with the temperature more than 54 degrees, I saw many old men and women carrying a disturbing amount of bricks. They were so covered in dust it was like they had a cloak of clay. Their eyes were just mechanical, like they were turned off, in this meditative state. I remember bursting out crying.

The abolitionist I was with shook me and said: ‘Lisa, you can’t do that here. It isn’t safe for you or them.’ I quickly realized that it was highly inappropriate. I decided in that instant that I would be there for the purpose I was called upon, which is to be a witness. I would count on those abolitionists and organizations to free them; because if I had interfered, it would’ve caused many problems.

When I go home and I’m in the studio and am editing, that’s when I get the big emotional responses, and I cry a lot. When I’m out in the field, I know that I’m doing something to raise awareness in order that it can stop. If I ignored it, or decided that it was too heavy of a burden emotionally, I think I would have a breakdown. The subject had impacted me in such a way that it became my calling. I don’t even know if it was a choice. Doing it helps me sleep at night.

On the dangers of the project

Every time I’m documenting slavery, I’m in a dangerous situation. The abolitionists on the ground did the preparations, arranged my visits. The abolitionists work for NGOs that help people out from slavery, and they work undercover. They would only bring me in when the managers were gone, and we had to leave immediately. Almost the entire body of this work was made in increments of ten-fifteen minutes, because I only had so much time.

On the relationship with the subject

Photographing people at these private and intense moments was certainly not easy. The abolitionists I work with knew the people I photographed. I wasn’t going in solely as a stranger. But if people didn’t want to be photographed, I wouldn’t photograph them. I also respect their privacy, and try to make photographs with an element of them being anonymous. I have many images that I wouldn’t show.

On the audience of art

The most important thing about making an image is doing it utterly completely for my heart. I never make an image for the public. On the other hand, I did the entire body of work on slavery for the public, for everyone on this planet. But when I was making the images, I wasn’t thinking how would the audience respond to this particular image? My work is about connecting with another human being. In regards to slavery, I’m seeing the dignity in somebody, no matter how dire the circumstance. By virtue of that, when viewers look at the image, they will be moved, viscerally. And they will raise their hands and say, ‘I want to help.’

On fighting slavery

Slavery is a huge atrocity that’s hidden. When you and I drive by a brick kiln, our assumption is that they are paid workers. And that’s why it exists. Because we don’t have that awareness. When we realize that something so horrible is happening, we won’t stand for it. For me, seeing is believing, which is why I do what I do, so that others may see what I see and be aware.

An exhibition of Lisa Kristine’s photographs, “Enslaved” was held at Siddhartha Art Gallery from November 19-25.