When Balaram Chitrakar was only 10, he started helping his father in a photo studio in inner city Kathmandu to develop photos in darkroom. By age 12, Chitrakar was already a bonafide photographer. By the time he finished high school in 1959, his father had handed him the keys to the studio. He attended Trichandra College during the day and developed film by night. “Perhaps because photography had become my passion it did not matter that I worked all night,” says Chitrakar, now 82. In 1967, as he finished his BSc exam Chitrakar joined the Department of Archeology’s Bir Library. But during the first few months, all he was made to do was keep written records of the documents. He realised that library users, mostly foreign researchers, had access to original texts and documents of historical importance, as a result of which they had become torn and damaged.&nbsp; So Chitrakar proposed to the Director of the Archeology Department to make duplicate copies of documents so the originals were preserved. The department accepted it and set aside Rs800 for him to buy a camera.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023092511090_e3d69f83f919105d3885e9a8b62ced12ba56051e38cd5b69d1f52eaa14fe2ace.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023092511090_e3d69f83f919105d3885e9a8b62ced12ba56051e38cd5b69d1f52eaa14fe2ace" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Microfilm archiving in Nepal"> </figure>  Chitrakar then began to make photocopies of documents, the first time this was done. Impressed with his work, the Department of Archaeology sent him to India to be trained in microfilming.&nbsp; “Microfilms had not been introduced in Nepal at the time, so I used my curiosity and made an effort during training to figure out how the practice could be brought into application back home,” Chitrakar recalls. When he returned in 1969, the Bir Library was incorporated into the Department of Archaeology’s National Archives. The Nepal government had also agreed with their German counterparts to make microfilms of Nepal’s archival documents, one copy of which would be with Nepal and the other sent to Germany.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023092511094_422339effd991229237231a70c2213de5d6ae2ac09850c98d32d5a88204ab209.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023092511094_422339effd991229237231a70c2213de5d6ae2ac09850c98d32d5a88204ab209" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1981" loading="lazy" alt="Microfilming in Nepal"> <figcaption>Balarama Chitrakar with German representative Bernhard Kolver (third from right).(Photo: suman)</figcaption> </figure>  German state-of-the-art equipment, including cameras and dark rooms were used to microfilm 29,000 documents during the first phase of the five-year project. The team worked every day for five years, microfilming many old books and paintings that Patan and Bhaktapur wanted preserved.&nbsp; In 1972, King Birendra personally took an interest in Chitrakar’s work and helped him with preserving the archives. The work continued for 25 years during which 182,000 manuscripts, inscriptions, copper plates, and other objects of archaeological significance were microfilmed. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yv8Fc2WDHPA?si=im2dd1KXGr69Af6D" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> Chitrakar travelled to Helambu, Langtang, Pokhara, Manakamana, Janakpur and elsewhere to preserve more archival religious documents. &nbsp; He even went to microfilm archives in Dhaka.&nbsp; By 1993 Chitrakar found there was a storage unit of microfilms but it was not temperature and humidity controlled. With his help, the Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya in Patan also began microfilming its archives.&nbsp; After 30 years, Chitrakar retired in 2001, and some of the documents he archived are 1,700 years old. But since then, the fragile microfilms themselves need to be preserved with digitisation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023092511094_d660a59924507009b148c5e7a11828447a267f94cde841261b54d9e6220e93a2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023092511094_d660a59924507009b148c5e7a11828447a267f94cde841261b54d9e6220e93a2" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Microfilming in Nepal"> <figcaption>Balram Chitrakar in Lumbini stydying microfiliming. </figcaption> </figure>  The microfilms Chitrakar had so painstakingly preserved are beginning to deteriorate due to ‘Vinegar Syndrome’— a chemical reaction that decays the emulsion in film. &nbsp; Microfilms have a lifespan of 100 years, but in Nepal they have begun to deteriorate in half that time. The National Archive has more than 200,000 positives and negatives of ancient texts and documents, out of which 500 are already damaged beyond repair. The Department of Archaeology submitted the Microfilm Reel Preservation Action Plan to the Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Civil Aviation in 2014 but the Ministry has not done much.&nbsp; Nepal stands to lose its archive of archaeological objects, and 82-year-old Chitrakar stands to lose his life’s work and legacy. He preserved historical documents by microfilming them which themselves now need to be preserved. “The fact that these microfilms are in a state of decay means that my entire life’s work will have gone to waste,” says Chitrakar wearily. “And what will we have left if we fail to conserve these microfilms?” &nbsp;

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Memories of an archivist

I unwrap The Public Life of Women, A Feminist Memory Project, and then slide the book out of its maroon case. An olive photo book with black pages reveals itself to me. My palms and fingers close around it in an embrace, the texture of a book always tells you something. I flip through the pages and want to turn to the only other person on the terrace-pub, a stylishly-dressed young woman, to say: What a gorgeous, wholesome book! Flipping through the pages, I am swept by gratitude for the women who came before us, for making sitting alone in public places in Nepal possible for women. When my friend shows up, I nudge the book in her direction. She says: “The white letters against black pages are symbolic, like light in the dark, showing us the way forward.” Valentina Abenavoli’s aesthetics will not just pass you by — the design carries the depth of the content, even if the book might need a stronger binding. This collection by Nepal Picture Library is based on an archival campaign representing women from all &nbsp;backgrounds from all over Nepal. The acknowledgement, as acknowledgement should be, is generous and not at all rushed. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/feminist-prints">Feminist prints</a>, Monika Deupala &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;…  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903030940_1c791ae4eba749940e0373ea3a992ca6e1b436d440bbee7b74cee87850e6adc0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230903030940_1c791ae4eba749940e0373ea3a992ca6e1b436d440bbee7b74cee87850e6adc0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1065" height="710" loading="lazy" alt="Feminist project NT"> </figure>  Mamu receives the book, flips through it and says: “This is the book for every Nepali woman. Many thanks to whoever made this.” She sits down at the dining table and starts turning the pages right away. She pauses at the photo of urban Nepali women in Moscow in 1963. Yes, they did represent a certain class of Nepali society. Still, it makes me wonder if my mother, growing up, gained hope from women like them. And even though she has spent her own life in and around the kitchen, perhaps knowing that there were women out there, who were trying, gave her hope for her unborn daughters? The thought makes me weep. I wish Mamu had a moment like Prativa Subedi, standing coy of the ocean in a 1994 image, a reminder of The Awakening by Kate Chopin. “We will save the book for my unborn daughters,” I say. Mamu nods. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/coping-with-patriarchy">Coping with patriarchy</a>, Bhumi Ghimire &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;…  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903030940_f05d136605b0771f07a63f7bb398868c54f9d6a96f0d3cce0abeec6382785184.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230903030940_f05d136605b0771f07a63f7bb398868c54f9d6a96f0d3cce0abeec6382785184" data-rendition-name="original" width="1065" height="710" loading="lazy" alt="Feminist project NT"> </figure>  Throughout history invisible lines have been drawn around women. This book is about those who have taken us beyond those lines. The first images in the book are of women at public events. Strangers stare back from the images. They feel familiar, because which woman is not &nbsp;familiar to another? They were women who cooked and cleaned alongside their public or political lives. Some operated as flag bearers for the men they loved. Long after I have put the book down, the image lingers of Rashmi Shah pillion riding on a motorbike with her husband, and her poem where red becomes the colour of revolution, the colour that binds them. The book is a collage of arrested moments in some stranger’s camera or perhaps that of acquaintances, mostly male. It is a representation of the gaze, all of them very different from one another, just as the women we see in the images, who tried to change the idea of belonging in class or caste. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/memory-of-a-conversation">Memory of a conversation</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903030940_69399aa9662bb1ad09cd1241de5b341f288a1aa33c2a31c09f667bb700dcaab9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230903030940_69399aa9662bb1ad09cd1241de5b341f288a1aa33c2a31c09f667bb700dcaab9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="Feminist project NT"> </figure>  Sushila Shrestha’s ‘party marriage’ to Ashok Rai, which breaks the social convention is one such example, where marriage is also a political project. There is also mention of an ‘arrest warrant’ but no details divulged, making Shrestha’s story one of the many incomplete anecdotes in the book.&nbsp; Shanta Manavi is also ‘compelled’ to work as an underground operative after she met Modnath Prasrit in Banaras. And the un-captioned mugshots collected by Parijat and Punaya Prabha Devi Dhungana. So, they become an enigma. In the mystery of the intersection of the private and the political, are the very public images of Nani Maiya Dahal at the election victory rally in 1981. The photos are probably the first such we see of a woman leader woven into the fabric of her supporters. They depict what Nepal might have had to offer to its women politicians.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/are-women-not-nepali-enough">Are women not Nepali enough?</a>, Sahina Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903030940_213ab8ef0355e04cd5ea95b42d87182e5debeb8602a2613527a74b733626e8a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230903030940_213ab8ef0355e04cd5ea95b42d87182e5debeb8602a2613527a74b733626e8a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1066" height="711" loading="lazy" alt="Feminist project NT"> </figure>  And yet, their political careers have always been short-lived, mostly oligarchic in nature, many of them operating from backstage, emerging time and again and then, exeunt. Women are beautiful. And the most beautiful are those who have fought like images of the Tharu women from Karjahi of Dang who led the peasants’ revolt in 1980 against local landlords. We shine brightest when it is dark. The photos of women in education are the most important for obvious reasons -- they trace the trajectory to women’s becoming. There is the fierceness of conviction in Chandra Malla establishing a school for girls in Makhan, circa 1935. Two high school teachers in Tehrathum in 1970: something remarkable about the light in their eyes. Female students prepare for Kathmandu education in an image from Doti in 1966. Little girls stand around them, watching, a moment so familiar to me. Seeing my Nini go to TU as a child was how I first decided that someday, I too would go to university.&nbsp; Images of ladies’ handbags and shoes and no-shoes are representations of status and economic independence.The book is more than just images, it is a repository of scraps and letters, articles, interviews, records, copies, journals, and notes and legal documents tucked in neatly, each revealing something about lives known and unknown. The images are flanked by texts in both English and Nepali, the Nepali version reads better and provides better context. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17426">Singing of sorrow</a>, Indu Nepal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903030936_fb05a4c2314c5f2545bf1b5b0507006f35c8fe3c52e06c4435746d44190ba41a.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20230903030936_fb05a4c2314c5f2545bf1b5b0507006f35c8fe3c52e06c4435746d44190ba41a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Feminist project NT"> </figure>  The book follows no chronology, but segments act like the stream of consciousness, flowing from one thing that stands out to another. Some recent photos appear in black and white, as if to give them a dated feel. Probably aesthetics. So many lives: their aspirations, suffering, dreams, period cramps, menopausal mood swings. Who knows what they were experiencing at the time they were facing the camera. It is as much for the audience to feel as for the subjects of the images. Like Nayantara Gurung Kakshapati says in the curator’s conversation section, where one is in their lives when they engage with the images impacts how one interacts with images. And she raises an important question: What about those who were not photographed? More archiving, then? Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-nepal-s-history-colourful">Making Nepal’s history colourful</a>

Pratibha Tuladhar

Pictures of women taking pictures

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19c69c7e80680e0ac83bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Niels Gutschow next to the 17th century wooden door added to the guest house. All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>"Welcome to my playground,” calls Niels Gutschow from the brick-laid front yard of his home in Bhaktapur. At the centre stands the single-storey house, with a narrow door in the middle of the vast brick façade, bracketed by two lattice windows. The house originally had three floors, but the 2015 earthquake brought much of the structure down.Cool breeze rushes in from all sides, filling the air with a polyphonic rustle of leaves. Here is a world unto itself, far from the hustle and bustle of this historic city. The sky is blue, the landscape is crisp, absent of dust, and butterflies flutter about. The nearest road is a 7-minute walk away, whatever trace of the mechanical city life beyond filtered by the willow trees that line the narrow trail leading up to the house.Gutschow’s wife Wau sits on the plinth next to the door, knitting. “A sweater for Niels,” she says, holding it up. “I knitted a red one before, did I not?”Gutschow nods. It is a white sweater this time.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19cb9c7e80680e0ac83cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Every year for the last 30 years (although, Nepal has been his home for nearly 50 years now), Niels and Wau would leave Nepal for Germany in November where they live near Heidelberg amidst landscape much like their Tahaja Hill home in Bhaktapur, secluded and peaceful.But this November, the Gutschows are making the trip back for the last time, leaving behind an extensive bibliography on the architectural anthropology of Nepal as well as an invaluable contribution to the conservation of the country’s tangible and intangible heritage.A striking example of this can be found in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/hyatt-performs-its-annual-chaitya-puja/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/hyatt-performs-its-annual-chaitya-puja/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145453000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGKse0tTwL-gkaxdbdj7U6diiE7Xw">chaitya-studded lobby</a> of the Hyatt Regency in Bouddha which Gutschow designed. These are the exact replica of shrines built between the 7th and 19th centuries around Kathmandu Valley.Even as the Valley’s cityscape turns to cement and steel, spreading like tumour devouring the countless quarters of historical and cultural significance, visiting the stone archive in Hyatt lobby presents some consolation and even a chance to return to our architectural roots.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19ce9c7e80680e0ac83djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><a href="https://www.asia-europe.uni-heidelberg.de/en/people/person/persdetail/gutschow.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.asia-europe.uni-heidelberg.de/en/people/person/persdetail/gutschow.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145453000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEzu69uTKZOvGSr0pRp7f2IrReWOA">Gutschow</a> was born in 1941 in Hamburg. His father was an architect, to whom he credits his entry into the visual 3-D world. He studied Latin and Greek in school, and in 1958 attended Buddhist Sunday classes. Educated not just in the Western classical canon but also Buddhist philosophy, he first came to Nepal in 1962 en route to Burma.In May of the same year, he witnessed the Machindranath Jatra in Lalitpur which had a profound impact on him, and made him decide this was something he would like to study. An architectural anthropologist by profession, he returned to Nepal in 1970, sponsored by the German Research Council to study the villages of Marpha and Tukche in lower Mustang.It was around this time that he met a German diplomat who wanted Gutschow involved in a project to restore the historic Pujari Math priestly residence in Bhaktapur. He prepared a plan for its restoration after surveying the badly ruined building complex with the help of Krishna Shrestha, the director of the National Art Gallery.The project was a precursor to what was to follow: an ambitious bilateral initiative between Nepal and Germany for the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19496#.YXqErFVByJA" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D19496%23.YXqErFVByJA&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145454000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFaE5KX7Au_TkhfxlIGyc6fP4fKeA">conservation of the architectural heritage of Bhaktapur</a>. He returned to Nepal on 22 August 1971 to organise the site visit, and took up residence at Bhaktapur in the ‘Rana House’ – now a homeopathic clinic – near Nag Pokhari.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19d29c7e80680e0ac83ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Walking around Bhaktapur even today is like stepping back in time. Its unique charm is preserved intact in the folds of its buildings and heritage – still largely untouched by the haphazard westernisation that has destroyed other towns in the Valley.Back in the 1970s, Bhaktapur was dilapidated, but had its historic urbanscape even more pristine. The Arniko Highway was just being built, and there were only a couple of buses a day to and from Kathmandu. Gutschow fully immerse himself in the life and happenings of this little city. He witnessed Indra Jatra and Dasain, and experienced communities get together during the Bisket Jatra and during the procession of the Navadurga.“It was fascinating to see Newars use their space as a stage,” he recalls.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/remembering-robert-powell/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Remembering Robert Powell</a>, Ashish Dhakal<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19d59c7e80680e0ac83fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Gutschow returned in 1974 with a scholarship to study Bhaktapur, which was also the year the German-supported Bhaktapur Development Project (BDP) got a start. Although many consider that Gutschow himself was part of the project, he says it is a misunderstanding.“I only wrote the first paper to initiate the project,” he adds. “The project went through a tender and we were young people then, we did not compete.”That paper is only a small part of Gutschow’s vast scholarship on Nepal. One of the many people who have <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/remembering-the-kathmandu-we-have-lost,3804" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/remembering-the-kathmandu-we-have-lost,3804&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145454000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGh8sMM2TUnfH-Rq-sLC9OGLvfVBQ">introduced Nepal to Nepalis</a>, he conducted architectural surveys of Gorkha and Nuwakot, Kag and Khyinga (in Mustang) from 1980 to 1988 and from 1990 to 1995. He also studied in greater detail the 19th century temples of Patan, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pencilling-in-kathmandu-rajman-singh-chitrakar,3379" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/pencilling-in-kathmandu-rajman-singh-chitrakar,3379&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145454000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFeD3US2WS_CdO-jWiHXfT2UZgC6w">Kathmandu</a> and Deopatan, and Buddhist chaitya to develop a chronology based on stylistic evidence.Further, his documentation and analysis of the urban space and rituals of Bhaktapur, his mapping of the city’s religious and social topography, and his architectural and anthropological research are unparalleled in their significance and impact.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19d89c7e80680e0ac840jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="947" height="369"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19da9c7e80680e0ac841jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1017"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19dd9c7e80680e0ac842jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1629" height="1373">He has written three detailed volumes on death rituals (Handling Death), initiation rituals (Growing Up) and marriage rituals (Getting Married) of Newars, with special focus on Bhaktapur. The 3-volume encyclopædic opus Architecture of the Newars, spans the early, Malla and modern times. Another book, The Sky Face studies Kirtimukha – a recurrent iconography of a fierce monster face with huge fangs and gaping mouth – and related creatures in Nepal, South- and Southeast Asian art and architecture.In the 50 years that he has spent in Nepal, Gutschow has also witnessed the steady change and decline of the Valley’s pristine <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-kathmandus-historic-roofscape/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-kathmandus-historic-roofscape/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145454000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH3ZS3m3pvF94PuKiF7OAnSi81f9g">landscape</a> into an ugly concrete jungle, which he also documented in his 2012 book, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19765#.YXqB4VVByJA" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D19765%23.YXqB4VVByJA&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145454000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGRu8irEABYxHUEsLPvoFzWllq58g">The Kathmandu Valley</a>.A meticulous chronicler of change, Gutschow held a deliberately dispassionate tone in the book – subdued and impartial, despite the sadness, telling Nepali Times: “The curiosity I feel about this ongoing development has nothing denunciatory about it. The documentation of the construction sites does reveal a certain crudity, not to say brutality. Its aim is to achieve a largely unemotional presentation of one aspect of reality.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19e09c7e80680e0ac843jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1343"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19e39c7e80680e0ac844jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1250" height="1194">Gutschow’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/towers-in-stone-niels-gutschow,1762" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/towers-in-stone-niels-gutschow,1762&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1635599145454000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG4O0PgeSv0XMLeOypVaA1ErzV7Iw">passion and dedication to documentation</a> can also be seen in his house in Bhaktapur – an integral part of his œuvre, a historical record of three decades in bricks and beams, where his research, scholarship and life spent among the people, the rituals, and the festivals of the Newa communities of Bhaktapur culminate, and which he is leaving behind when he returns to Germany.The house stands atop Tajaha Hill (literally ‘a net of snakes’) where snakes are indeed a common feature to this day. Gutschow remembers several large snakes basking in the sun, and some smaller ones in the lotus pond, especially in the monsoon or winter afternoons.Unlike most mythologies in the West, snakes represent strength and rebirth in Buddhism and Hinduism. This feels like an apt analogy, adding to the serene, mythical quality of the house, which itself was rebuilt and reconfigured in 1989 and lived in for 30 years.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19e79c7e80680e0ac845jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Narrow bricked steps lead the visitor away from the trail and towards the house, flanked on both sides by a small forest of monkey grass, isicha, willow trees, mugwort and persimmon among others. A small round lotus pool on the right and a kuwa, or a wellspring, on the left are near the entrance.A stone pikhalakhu sits on the ground before the steps leading to the courtyard where a long arcade has been reconfigured after the earthquake. The columns and capital-brackets on top Gutschow bought for the price of firewood. “No one wanted these,” Gutschow says, shaking his head. The carvings depict buffalo eyes, lotus leaves, snake virgins under snake hoods, and the mythical makara aquatic beings.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19eb9c7e80680e0ac846jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19ee9c7e80680e0ac847jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="767" height="1500">Behind the house stands the Kadam Chörten, a chaitya completed in 2002 to commemorate the passing of the Buddha, and further up is the tall guest house, its roof peeking from behind the fan palm and lapsi. Two giant vermillion circles look ahead from under the roof like eyes keeping watch over the hill, the neighbouring houses and fields.“The earthquake affected this building too, the base twisted,” Gutschow says, demonstrating the jerk and twist with his own body. The door had to be removed and replaced with a wall upon which another giant red circle was plastered with a smaller yellow circle painted inside. When asked about its meaning, Gutschow smiles slyly: “I cannot tell you that, you should come up with your own interpretation.”From the guest house, one can see another tower up ahead which looks as though it is simply a decorative piece. The bricks are of singular styles not seen elsewhere in the house, which were designed by students from Frankfurt.“It was an experiment,” Gutschow says, moving his hand across the jagged motif. The traditional Newa bricks are arranged at the bottom, with a layer of modern rough bricks above, followed by a single line of traditional bricks, above which the Frankfurt-designed bricks sit, and the pattern continues.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19f29c7e80680e0ac848jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Three columns stand in the tower – two on one side and one inside a narrow opening opposite. These are unique columns, which came from Pondicherry in India, wide at the base, and tapered rather sharply at the top. The lonely column on the other side is painted red, as is the top of the wall inside. This colour is a recurring motif with Gutschow. “Red is an important colour, almost like my trademark. It is the colour of blood, and especially associated with life and death,” he adds.Red also has ritualistic significance in Hinduism and Buddhism, and is the colour of the sun in mornings and evenings. Gutschow would not reveal the mystery of the coloured circles in the guest house, but perhaps they too represent the same sense of duality: of life and death, of dawn and dusk, of Nepal and Germany.However, Gutschow is cautious with hasty interpretations, since in art they can often allude to a notion of functionality, and an object is reduced simply to its utility. “But form does not need to follow function,” he says as we walk away from the tower towards the house.“The lonely pillar stands in the space as an aesthetic choice, an object to be appreciated as itself,” he says.It is the same with the anthropomorphic façade of his study tower, where two window panels that function as eyes are separated in the middle by a wooden arch which is the nose. Above the eyes, the cornice serves as eyebrows and there in the central axis sits a small block carved into a third eye. This is a prime example of the “impulse to adorn” which features heavily in the architectural practice of Bhaktapur, where decorations serve a pure aesthetic purpose.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19f79c7e80680e0ac849jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After the tour, sitting inside the arcade, Gutschow recounts the Navadurga ritual, which he has been attending for the past 50 years not as a tourist but as an inhabitant of Bhaktapur, belonging to the community. Even then, despite his work, projects and involvement all these years, Gutschow has been coming to Nepal on a tourist visa which covers about five months at a time, and he still has to buy a $15 entry ticket every time he visits Bhaktapur Durbar Square.But, he shrugs: “Now it does not matter anymore.”Gutschow laughs when asked about how he balanced being in Nepal and Germany. “I enjoyed being in two worlds, and being able to work and write in Germany as well as in Nepal meant that when I returned to one of the places, I always returned with new questions.”

Ashish Dhakal

Niels Gutschow leaves home

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf039c7e80680e07802ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1329" height="928"/><figcaption>King George V with Prime Minister Chandra Shumshere Rana with a tiger trophy in Chitwan in 1911. Sotheby’s</figcaption></figure>Archiving should be a state responsibility, and Nepal does have a National Archive. But a Nepali working in the Gulf has shown how much can be achieved by just one individual with a passion for history.No one can find the original of the 1816 Sugauli Treaty anywhere. Important historical documents, agreements with Tibet, China and British India are also missing. Many of them probably went up when Singha Darbar caught fire in 1973.Which is why <a href="https://twitter.com/SantoshKhaderi">Santosh Khaderi</a> (pictured below) has taken it upon himself to archive as much as possible of official records, early photographs, letters and ephemera from Nepali history as he can. What started out as a hobby, has now become an important contribution to archiving in Nepal for this 28-year-old Dang native and college dropout.He has been in Abu Dhabi for the past six years, working night shifts. He found so much factually incorrect news about Nepal that he started collecting digital records of the country’s past wherever he could find them on the Internet. Working 6-7 hours during the day, Khaderi has built up a collection that he also shares widely through his Twitter account and with regular well-researched articles in Annapurna Post.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf069c7e80680e07802bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="518"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf099c7e80680e07802cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="598" height="474">It all started in 2016, as Nepal was reeling from the aftermath of the earthquake and the Indian Blockade. Khaderi found so many falsehoods and half-truths in media reports that he gave himself the mission to preserve history. Once, while watching Indian news channels he came across a documentary about Prime Minister PV Narsimha Rao which delved into archives to tell his story.“The hour-long episode was so in-depth and based on historical documents and records, that I wondered why a Nepali could not make a similar documentary about B P Koirala,” Khaderi said in a phone interview from the UAE.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf0b9c7e80680e07802djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="627" height="806"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This is why, while carrying on his usual work of collecting historical records, he started zooming in on everything he could find on BP, including archival film footage of his funeral procession in Kathmandu in 1984, letters and other documents.“Being away from Nepal has made me value my homeland even more, and to stay in touch while being relevant to my roots and upbringing,” Khaderi says. “In addition, it gives me the opportunity to correct historical inaccuracies, bending of facts, or deliberate lies.”Indeed, his social media posts do not carry that angry tone common to many these days who all bristle with strong opinion about everything. He is not provocatively controversial, he just wants to lay out historical facts based on documents.Khaderi says it is thanks to the corpus of knowledge on the searchable Internet that he can do this work. Without the net it would be immensely complicated since the documents, records, news clips and film footage are scattered around the world.“It’s all there on the net, you just have to know how to search for it,” he says. “But I am limited to material that is in the public domain, I don’t have the money to pay for other content.”Among the rare items in his collection are Rana-era photos, letters written by the palace in Kathmandu to the British in India about the use of Simara airport during World War II, rare clips of Edward VIII, then Prince of Wales with Chandra Shumshere Rana during a hunting trip in Chitwan in 1921, or Tribhuvan’s funeral in Switzerland.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf0d9c7e80680e07802ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3715" height="3253"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Khaderi’s archive so far has 600 videos, 700 books and newspaper clips, numerous government letters, even invitation cards from Mohan Shumshere for a diplomatic reception at the Nepal Embassy at Barakhamba Road in New Delhi in 1950.Khaderi has dug up news clips from 100 years ago to piece together Bishnu Shumshere Rana’s affair with a Hollywood dancer, and his eventual death in the Bahamas. What he does not have are photographs of Bishnu Shumshere’s body arriving in Banaras for cremation, which are in the Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya archives in Kathmandu.“It is disappointing that our country does not have any papers related to the Kalapani border issues and whatever news has been printed is just mudslinging between two governments, there are few fact-based statements,” he says.He has also dug up a 27-page booklet on Mohan Shumshere Rana that deals with the 1950 Indo-Nepal Treaty with the newly-independent India. Nepal’s claim to Kalapani is mentioned there too.“I believe that history is now more important than ever, so it is absolutely important for us to have historical evidence from the past. Nepal is at its weakest point now because we never cared about archives as they had vested interest somewhere else,” Khaderi says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf119c7e80680e07802fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="2881"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Among Khaderi’s archives is correspondence between Indian Ambassador and Prime Minister Nehru in 1950 in which he cites the Royal Nepal Army’s lack of preparedness to deal with external threats. Within two years of Prime Minister Matrika Prasad Koirala’s visit to India in 1952, Indian military communication units were placed at 17 points along the India-Nepal border.Khaderi has also dug up reports filed by Indian military about patrols to Kalapani in 1959 that prove that the Indian Army already had bases there. China had just annexed Tibet, the Dalai Lama had fled to India, and India and China were soon to go to war. But these documents prove that the Indian bases in Kalapani were not allowed there during or after the war, but perhaps as long before as 1956.“Our country and the government has a handful of shortcomings, but the biggest shortcoming is the lack of archives,” Khaderi says. “these should be digitised, stored, and even made public. Hardcopy files can be destroyed, misplaced or even disappear.”Khaderi says he went to the UAE for financial reasons, but he is itching to get back to Nepal where he wants to set up and maintain a historical archive, and what he has collected so far will be the starting point.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141144/636baf149c7e80680e078030jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1117" height="896"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>

Adventures of a lone archivist

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