dashain

Dashain, the greatest festival for Hindus, is associated with the victory of good over evil. Once it begins, it brings feelings of joy, happiness and prosperity to the people. Of all the Dashains I have celebrated, two stand out in memory but for all the wrong reasons.

25 years ago when I was five years old in Chaurjahari, Rukum, my father was away in Kathmandu for business during the days leading up to Dashain. Back then means of communication was virtually non-existent. The postal service was the only option as the age of the Internet and email was yet to dawn and even telephones did not exist in that part of the country.

Therefore all that my family could do was to wait. We had no idea when he would return. All around in the neighbourhood signs of Dashain revelry were abundant. New clothes were being purchased, houses were being repainted and Dashain shopping was in full swing. The hallmarks of the festival are new clothes, sweets, festivities and meat dishes. Even at that age I remember the anxiety I felt about my father’s return. I badly wanted new clothes which I was aware my mother could could not provide.

Fulpati came and went but there was no sign of my father. I used to keep a vigil on the road leading to the airport in the hope of making him appear. Fulpati is the traditional day for the slaughter of the festival goat but due to my father’s absence, we delayed the slaughter for his return. I was in great despair. I had no new clothes and nothing to be excited about. My entire family including grandmother, grandfather, mother, uncle, aunt and younger siblings were on the verge of desperation. Since like me, my father is also the eldest son in his generation, his presence was invaluable, as the first born son is accorded great importance in society.

Sattami too came and went and our Dashain goat remained unslaughtered. Desperation about my father continued to increase. Finally on Ashthami, to our great joy and relief he arrived on a Royal Nepal Airlines Corporation (now NAC) flight. The goat was dutifully slaughtered and all was well again. I. for one, was ecstatic. My father had brought lots of sweets and clothes for me and I felt like some sort of a celebrity in my village with my brand new cap and clothes. Our Dashain celebrations began late that year but they were more special than ever.

The other memorable Dashain in my life was memorable for all the wrong reasons. Our family had gone to Nepalgunj for the festivities. On the day of Ashthami all of us were working on the Kol, a wooden apparatus used to extract mustard oil in the traditional and manual method. My father and uncles were moving the handle and I was doing the rounds with them. All of a sudden a dog that one my relatives had brought along, attacked and bit me. My family was consumed with worry and I was immediately rushed to the local clinic before being flown to Nepalgunj. That was the end of Dashain celebrations for me that year as my father and me had to spend the rest of the festival in the city, away from home and loved ones. It was only after 22 days that I was able to return home and that too, without my father due to the unavailability of flight tickets.