“The enthusiasm of foreigners to learn about our ethnic instruments was a surprising fact for me,” says septuagenarian Shrestha, who has been learning and preserving the ethnic instruments such as sarangi, binayo, and murchunga for two decades.[break] Normally reserved for the Gandharvas and Kiratas, playing these instruments has been Shrestha’s hobby.
Unfortunately, these popular traditional instruments have been slowly disappearing from our society. And many youths of the present generation may not know their melodious sounds or even their names. Even so, Shrestha has committed himself to preserving these folk instruments for future generations.
“Being a tourist guide and a student of culture, I was slowly driven by the melody of these instruments while explaining about them to visitors,” recalls Shrestha and adds, “Now they have become indispensable parts of my life.”
Shrestha currently lives at Brijeswori in Kathmandu with his wife and two sons. Every now and then, he goes back to Ilam for a few days, where he was during this meeting.
Born in Ilam, Birbal Shrestha, 71, holds a Masters in culture. His interests in traditional musical instruments began only at the age of 45.
“I continued to shift from one profession to the other until I developed the hobby of playing ethnic instruments,” elaborated Shrestha, who spent years as a teacher, tourist guide and a hotel manager.
Shrestha left Ilam to start as a professional tourist guide in 1965, but he couldn’t work wholeheartedly.
“I went back home to work as a teacher at Bhanu Bhakta Secondary School in Mangalbare, the trade center of Western Ilam,” he said. It was here he first learned to play the basuri flute.
After four years of teaching, Shrestha gave up his job.
“There weren’t proper infrastructure, or facilities, so I gave up teaching and started working as a tourist guide again.” He continues, “To my surprise, I was the centre of attraction among tourists after I started playing the flute for them, with what little knowledge I had of it.”
Shrestha then begins to play some melodies and folks songs, including the popular “Resham Phiriri.”
Unknowingly drawn to the sarangi, he began looking for a teacher to learn more about the instrument.
“I asked some Gandarvas to teach me but they said it wasn’t their business,” Shrestha shares, “My ego was hurt, and so I started practicing on my own. The improvement was satisfactory to me and to those I played for.”
However, the sarangi being confined to the Gaineys/Gandarvas, it was difficult for a Newar to adopt it. His family and neighbors called him a lunatic. But being a man who always listened to his heart, Shrestha never gave up. Had he listened to the voices against his interests, he wouldn’t have been what he is now.
Shrestha has performed in Pokhara, Chitwan and has been to Thailand twice as a coordinator of a team of artistes comprising the late Ram Thapa, Lochan Bhattarai, Chandan Pradhan, and others. He has hosted numerous programs for Bhairab Bahadur Thapa’s Bhairav Nitrya Dal as well. “I’m presently working on an ethnic musical album titled ‘Peace through Music’,” he says.
The sarangi aficionado has equal devotion to murchunga and binayo as well.
“The murchunga adds effects to music,” explains Shrestha, who has been learning the piyocha, a typical instrument played by the Jyapus. He got interested in it after hearing about it from Satya Mohan Joshi, the octogenarian culture expert.
When asked which one he would choose between sarangi and basuri, he pauses for a minute and expresses, “For the long term, I would go for basuri but I feel complete only after I play the sarangi. I can look
deep inside myself with its melody and reach where
all my emotions and pains burst forth.”
He picked up one of his three sarangis and began playing Daiba hera aba ta bhok pugyo/Ruda rundai aansuko mul phutyo…
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