Vijaya Dashami, the 10th day of Dashain festival
Vijaya Dashami, the 10th day of Dashain festival
Betrawati, Saturday, October 7th, 2000
Relatives catch up during the Dashain festival
Relatives catch up during the Dashain festival
Janakpur, Nepal, October 22nd, 2015
Chandar (in red) is the maternal aunt of my friend.
Dukhni is the daughter of my friend’s paternal uncle.
(so, Dukhni is my friend’s cousin).
This was during the Dashain festival, when people go home to visit their relatives.
The neighborhood was flooded with Nepali and Bollywood music, which was being belted skyward by loudspeakers mounted on roofs; the goal being to play nice music to please the gods.
In Janakpur (which is only a few kilometers from the Indian border) you seem to see far more saris than in Kathmandu proper. Though a dry and dusty area, the myriad fabrics the women wear make it a colorful place—I wish I could have stayed longer.
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Arju and Puja
Arju and Puja
Manamaiju Marg, Manamaiju, Kathmandu, October 18th, 2015
I was walking down Manamaiju Marg, watching children play on the ping [swing] to my right, when I saw Arju giving her sister Puja a ride on their bike.
A week later, when I found their house to give them their photos, their mother said one word: "Beautiful".
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Jenisha and Samprada share a swing
Jenisha and Samprada share a swing
Dadagaun, Kathmandu, Friday, October 16th, 2015 – Dashain
During the festival of Dashain, it is a time to visit one’s family and eat good foods together (I liken it to Thanksgiving in the U.S.).
Buses are packed with people traveling home to their villages to visit.
Children fill the sky with small kites on incredibly long strings.
And when there is a free piece of land, neighborhoods build a ping [swing].
Fashioned from four strong pieces of bamboo, they are then tied to a crossbar at the top. From this, a thick loop of rope hangs down allowing a child (or two) to swing long and high. All day long you can see a varying line of children eagerly awaiting their turn for a ride on the ping.
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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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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.