<figure><img width="2304" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a0639c7e80680e0d7035jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>There is darkness, except for the faint trace of a white tree at one corner, dancing ripples (or golden flames?) at another. Light pours downward like the first rays of creation upon four figures lying on the ground. Sound of the madal drum fills the air.The women rise, fluid to the music of nature. Their expressions dart from sombre to elated, reflecting the beat. One raises her hand high in the air while another reaches deep into the earth. They go around in circles, and behold: a child is born.Meanwhile, a shadow surrounded by cool blue light dances in perfect sync with the women on stage -- Reflecting them? Guiding them? There is a sense of womanhood, motherhood, as life is created. The child grows into a girl who now learns the dance from the women who came before her. This is a form of storytelling that bridges the past and present, future, preparing and shaping expectations. <img width="2304" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a0669c7e80680e0d7036jpeg.jpg" alt=""><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/no-exit-from-lake-constance/">One World Theatre</a>’s latest play Deurali Daandi, in collaboration with Actor’s Studio Nepal, begins in a kind of a musical trance, almost wordless, with a Genesis narrative of its own. And the audience immediately feels as though it has always been living in the fabric of its history and cosmology.When the prelude ends and a new movement begins, the audience already knows the world: its hills and its mountains, the sounds of choppers and planes in the air that announce the arrival of goods and bodies. This village is, after all, already branded into our collective psyche through the media. We may not all live there, but we have heard of it and its people. There are no men left here. A strange epidemic that manifests itself as parched and coarse sand made them all leave. The audience is not surprised -- there are repercussions now that are more biting and terrible. Drawing from the elements of Sati Ghatu folk dance of the Gurung community of Nepal and performed mainly on the full moon of Baisakh Purnima, the play examines Nepal’s labour migration practices and its fallout. It explores a world of deafening absences, and how cultures, traditions and life are affected.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/ghatu-dance-of-lamjung/">Ghatu dance of Lamjung</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; letter-spacing: 0.15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/here-now/diaspora-diaries/?page=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Diaspora Diaries </a> <img width="2304" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a06a9c7e80680e0d7037jpeg.jpg" alt="">Springs dry up, birds do not sing, a baby deer dies in the forest, and the women are also getting sick. What is this disease? ask the characters, sometimes staring at the audience. We know this disease of the sand: we feel it in our bones, and are unsettled by this revelation. For director Rose Schwietz, the metaphor is pretty direct and apparent. “The way labour migration spreads in Nepal is like an epidemic, through contact,” she says. “What we have is a bit of a poeticism and magic realism approach to the idea. And a part of what we are trying to do in the play is bringing the stories that are not heard or told.”Indeed, the majority of the stories one hears about labour migration in Nepal centre on the men who either return or do not at all. “These stories are obviously very important,” Schwietz adds, “but I also wondered about their trickle-down effect.”Schwietz norticed this effect during a Fulbright stint studying Ghatu at Nalma in Lamjung in 2014. She found that every family in the village had someone abroad, or planning to leave.“I was really interested in this idea of people who are here and what they experience,” she says. “And, for the most part, it’s the women who are left behind.” The women adjust their lives in this world, but what happens when the ‘epidemic’ resurges, like a new variant? The women realise they have to respond differently to it and take action to save themselves and their way of life from disappearing. But what actions can they take? Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-home-and-the-deep-blue-sea/">Between home and the deep blue sea</a>, Prakash Gurung<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Qatar job mirage</a>, Nepali Times <img width="2304" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a06d9c7e80680e0d7038jpeg.jpg" alt="">It is a desperate path, beset by nightmares and abuse. The city lights are alluring promises seen from a distance, but even mobile telephones may not fully reconcile the gulf in reality. Nevertheless, there is hope too, which is most visible in how the women come together, to support one another, to discuss, decide, and dance.The all-women cast, largely unheard of in Nepali and global theatre, is effortless and impeccable. Their fierce and emotionally-charged performance is the core of the play. Working closely with Bir Kashi Gurung, a Sati Ghatu performer from Nalma, the actors portray elegant and moving gestures to dramatic perfection, especially as they deliver their lines, giving an ethereal touch to Deurali Daandi. “We listen to each other,” explains actor Deeya Maskey. “It has been easy to communicate, understand and form lasting rapport with each other. We learn new perspectives, become more sensible as people.”Says actor Pashupati Rai, “We have been able to relate to our characters, to the many layers of womanhood, friendships, how society views us. All of this has made teamwork easier and possible.”Saraswati Chaudhary adds, “Perhaps it would have been a different experience with male actors, but we also sit together to eat together and call each other by our character’s name.” In fact, Eating and sitting together encouraged the actors to share their joys and sorrows, which is reflected in the play.This powerful collaboration is what makes Deurali Daandi a stunning production. While there is no consensus as to when and how the Ghatu dance originated, its tradition, moves and spirit have been passed down through generations. This, in turn, directs the play which also looks at the idea of transference and how traditions hit a roadblock when there is hardly anyone left to receive and propagate them.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/female-migrant-workers-hold-up-half-the-sky/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Female migrant workers hold up half the sky</a>, Sahina Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-migration-in-the-2020s/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali migration in the 2020s</a>, Upasana Khadka <img width="2304" height="1536" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a0719c7e80680e0d7039jpeg.jpg" alt=""> “The play does not recreate Ghatu absolutely,” explains playwright Sahalesh, “We are using it as a form to tell a contemporary story and explore the idea of skills, culture being passed down from mothers to daughters, and how a way of life is intrinsically tied to people and traditions, how they co-exist.”This is important to consider in times when we may become desensitised to news. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/qatar-refuses-payoffs-to-world-cup-stadium-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Thousands lost their lives in Qatar alone</a> during the construction of World Cup infrastructure. Such statistics have a numbing effect. But Schwietz believes poetry and theatre can give people a different angle to examine this issue, and preserve its ambiguity for the viewer to analyse.“The whole situation cannot be portrayed wholly as evil,” she remarks. “For individuals, foreign employment can be hugely beneficial, but perhaps not so much for the community or the country as a whole. We have tried to reflect this complexity in the play.” Deurali DaandiRanjana Bhattarai, Sarswoti Chaudhary, Deeya Maskey, Menuka Pradhan, Pashupati Rai and Binita Thapa MagarWritten by SahaleshDirected by Rose SchwietzStaged at Actor’s Studio Theatre, Pingalasthan, KathmanduRuntime: 1h45m without intermissionUntil 29 January 20235:00pm (Matinees on Saturdays 1:00pm)Tickets: Students: Rs300 General: Rs500 VIP: Rs1000Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/the-price-of-a-kiss/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The price of a kiss</a>, Ashish Dhakal

Ashish Dhakal

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Between sand and a hard place

https://youtu.be/1Ur3EvdiaikDevotees lined up inside the Tashi Chhyoling Gumba of Nalma village, Lamjung, recently on Buddha Jayanti to prepare the Ghatu dance. Interestingly, although the day begins with offerings and lamps for the Buddha, the dance begins by invoking Hindu gods.Ghatu seems to bring many cultures and languages together across the mountains of Central Nepal. In Nalma village, a two-hour ride from the district headquarter of Besishahar, four young girls are dressing up in traditional Gurung costumes to prepare for the dance. The rituals actually begin in January on the festival of Shree Panchami, when the dancers are selected. They are then trained until the performance starts on Buddha Jayanti, and goes on for up to a week. <img width="575" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41ef9c7e80680e04a6a4jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>On full moon day the dancers line up in a community building at the center of the village, and begin swaying slowly to the music as village elders sing to the beat of the madal. Ghatu tells the tragic story of King Pashramu and Queen Yambawati: Pashramu goes on a hunt, meets and marries Yambawati, and they have a child. Pashramu is killed in action, Yambawati self-immolates on her husband's pyre. The dance climaxes with Yambawati's grief as she gives up her kingdom, says goodbye to her little son, and embraces death. The dancers go into a trembling trance as they perform for hours.Ghatu dance is performed all over central Nepal by Gurung, Magar, Dura, Balami and Kumal communities. But no one is sure how it originated. "It was passed down to us by our ancestors, but they did not tell us where they learnt it or how it began," says Jung Bahadur Gurung, dance teacher in Nalma. "People believe it's based on a local story, and that Pashramu and Yambawati were a local Gurung king and queen."Gurung knows the songs, but says he does not know what language they are in. It sounds like Tharu or Bhojpuri, languages spoken in southern Nepal. Since Pashramu meets Yambawati when he is out hunting and far away from his mountain homeland, some people speculate that queen Yambawati was a woman from the Tarai and brought the songs with her. The Gurungs also do not have the practice of sati depicted in the dance. Considering this and other factors, folk music expert Kishor Gurung concludes that Ghatu was actually brought to Nepal by Lahures who went to India. "Nepali soldiers who joined the British Indian armies must have brought it back with them 150-200 years ago."Professor Yubaraj Gurung thinks the dance is essentially a way for the community to comes to terms with pain and relate it to Yambawati's grief. But there is agreement on what makes the dancers go into a trance as they dance with their eyes closed, swaying slowly to the music."The dancers sometimes don't even know the story, but go with the flow and where the music takes them," says folk music researcher Jhuma Limbu who is making a documentary about Ghatu. "It is a matter of great pride that music which explores the depths of human psychology is still alive in Nepal. We must do our best to preserve it." <img width="2000" height="1123" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a41f29c7e80680e04a6a5jpeg.jpg" alt="">As with most folk art, this music has been passed down and preserved orally, and it is known to affect the dancers anytime it is played. Grown women who were former dancers sometimes fall into a trance when they hear the music. Villagers here forbid recording the music, and the performances only happen at designated times.With the march of time, interest is waning in such lengthy dances when other means of entertainment are easily available, says musician Raju Gurung: "It is a very sad that people are losing interest in the ritual part of the dance and it is becoming more and more commercialised. We love our dance very much and would like to preserve it, but it is a losing battle."

Ghatu dance of Lamjung

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