I’m not Hindu and the first and last Dashain I witnessed in Nepal was in 2007. My parents explained since everything would be closed, I could make use of the free time and head for the hills. So, I set off on a 10-day trek to the Annapurna Base Camp. [break]
After returning to Kathmandu, I asked friends what they had done over Dashain. Some said they had flown kites or had been flown on the bamboo swings. Others said they had relaxed with families. But all said they had devoured khashiko masu and accepted tikas. That didn’t sound so bad. Something like Emile Durkheim considering a simple congregation of people to reassert their identity and community, against the backdrop of religion. Possibly harsh, but I can’t say I disagree.
Their Dashain sounded like my Christmas and others’ Eid – a time to gather with family and friends, a time to celebrate something that binds us together.
Perhaps the supposedly 19.4% who didn’t tick the “Hindu” box in our last census can relate when I say Dashain, to me, is a like a very long weekend. Though much of the indigenous population is now differentiating their national religions – Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Animism and so on – from Hinduism, the fact is Hinduism has seeped into much of their religions and cultures, by choice or coercion.
Budding Anthropologist, Tek Bahadur Dong explains it to me, “Our celebrations of Hindu festivities today may be determined by choice, but historically it was an involuntary assimilation process so that its remnant today means Janjatis are more familiar with Hindu holidays than their own Buddhist festivities.”
That means even less than 19.4% may not be celebrating Dashain this year. But, that’s no problem for me. How could it be? It’s not a problem for the 80.6% when we, those from the “minority” religions, celebrate Eid or Lhoshar or Christmas.
In 2008, we officially became a “secular” state, but there’s been little “secularization” of Nepal. I’m still assumed a Hindu by Nepalis and foreigners alike simply because I am a Nepali. I was given a “Dashain bonus” last year. I emailed saying “I’m not Hindu nor do I celebrate Dashain, but a thank you is in order.” And the response was, “Consider this your Christmas bonus : )” Fully aware of the fact that Christmas bonuses weren’t the norm in Nepal as they are in “Christian” countries, I cashed it in!
Ideally, there would be a Christmas bonus and an Eid bonus and any other bonuses that align with whatever religions the diverse peoples of Nepal follow. But that’s a little too unrealistic. My alma mater, Woodstock School, is an international, Christian boarding school located in India. Boasting the diversity of its student body, it did the best it could to avoid ostracizing any religion. Christmas was, as expected, tucked into the winter holidays. But during the school year, Americans had a special dinner for Thanksgiving, Muslims were taken to the Mosque for Eid, Hindus were designated space to play Holi and so forth. It wasn’t ideal. Muslims and Hindus didn’t get to celebrate their largest festivities with their families and friends, but Woodstock did the best it could.
And I think Nepal is starting to as well. Until 2007, Christians had to make a special (reading: slightly daunting) request at work to take one day off for Christmas. Since then, it’s become another national holiday.
Of course, if we declared a national holiday according to every people group, nationality, religion and culture, it’d be a bit chaotic. But that’s not the point. The point is that a predominantly Hindu state is making room for non-Hindu Nepalis to call this land their own is something I’ve been waiting for all my life.
I was about six when there was persecution against Nepali Christians by the then HMG (1986-89). And yet, I have faint recollections of agents bugging our phone lines, of threats made against my dad who was the then the General Secretary of Nepal Christian Fellowship. I even remember men in blue blatantly peeking in from our yard and through the curtains. But things slowly changed.
The “naya Nepal” chanted in 2008 had been in the making long before. In the early days of prajatantra, churches started to open –within and beyond the valley, Christians started to feel safer and society became more open. I don’t know what it was like for non-Christians of “minority” religions. But with hope, it was something similar.
The city of Toledo, on the outskirts of Madrid in Spain, is charming but even more famed for religious tolerance between Christian, Jewish and Muslim cultures. Today, a museum pays tribute to the historical and peaceful coexistence of bygone centuries. But Nepal today, standing at the crossroads, doesn’t need to allude to history, because the present is telling enough.
Last year, I lived in Nepalgunj; and there was this one week when Eid not only overlapped with Dashain but our right-next-door neighbor was conducting Saptaha. My housemates and I were situated in the heart of the Muslim neighborhood, and across the street from a Hindu household that handed the microphone to a priest who, after clearing his throat at 7am, chanted and sang right till after 9pm. At which point our Muslim, and by default non-Muslim, neighbors would all hear the call to prayers by the Imam. This would be followed by the merrymaking of Eid. That week, I was severely sleep-deprived, and though I’d have preferred the mikes be turned inwards and not positioned into the four corners of the rooftop so as to ensure all were party to the celebrating, I was thankful that both communities could openly celebrate.
Peaceful coexistence is not an easy task. Not just cultures, but customs, celebrations and ideologies differ. And, they don’t just differ, at times they even contradict. Living together means something between sucking it up and attempting to appreciate the differences, even if they differ fundamentally. Milton Friedman wrote, ‘fundamental difference in basic values can seldom if ever be resolved at the ballot box; ultimately it can only be decided, though not resolved, by conflict’. Following the kidnapping and killing of Nepali workers in Iraq in 2004 Nepali Muslims were attacked across the country. But, for all the bigotry comments made, Nepalis have not waged a religious war. And, for that I am thankful. I sincerely hope that the 21st century can prove Friedman and Nepalis fanatics wrong. I hope this because what is our alternative?
Because, as we gloat about the many cultures and peoples that create Nepal, it’s an oxymoron to deny the differences that are inherent to the diversity. As a woman of mixed castes –part of which is Chhetri – I’m the first to say Nepal can’t celebrate its diversity if it is to stick one finger up in the air and declare one language, one dress, and one religion. Our country consists of a plethora of people groups who in turn espouse a plethora of cultures, food habits, costumes, languages, and the whole shebang. We can’t duly impose a religious or cultural hegemony and simultaneously boast of the diversity.
Contrary to the disillusioned chants, it’s indeed a free country. The first amendment to the American constitution protects the right to freedom of speech, press, assembly, protest, and yes, religion. Such rights are fundamental, much more so than the fundamental differences that would otherwise prove detrimental to the future of our Nepal.
My mother describes preparing a bronze platter of fruits, nuts, sweets and cakes and walking it to our neighbors’ houses in the early mornings of Christmas. Our Buddhist and Hindu neighbors didn’t celebrate it, but they wished her a Merry Christmas. During Dashain, they too would knock on our door and offer us their goodies. And well-wishes were said. We were all Nepalis, but Nepalis of different ethnicities, cultures, languages, and religions.
In this “New Nepal,” I won’t be participating in the festivities of Dashain, but I’ve learnt from my mother that I have no reason to refrain from wishing my “Happy Dashain!” to my fellow Hindu friends.
Related story
Dashain Food Recipes
