<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c779c7e80680e0bd493jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4096" height="2731"/><figcaption>Photos: AMIT MACHAMASI.</figcaption></figure>Prem Lal Shilpakar of in Bhaktapur was eleven when he first worked on the chariot for the ancient <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-tug-of-tradition/">Biska Jatra</a>. The chariot, which is one of the main attractions of the festival worshipping the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-boy-gods-of-kathmandu,4158">gods Bhairav</a> and Bhadrakali, is an engineering marvel.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c7b9c7e80680e0bd494jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"><figcaption>Prem Lal Shilpakar. Photo: HIMAL KHABAR.</figcaption></figure>The <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9445#.YlOL8tNBxH0">three-storey pagoda style chariot</a> stands 10m tall, and is supported by four wooden wheels 2.5m in diameter, all fastened together without any nails or metal hooks.“I used to come with my father and grandfather every day and help,” recalls Shilpakar who has been involved in the construction of the chariot for over 50 years.Bisket Jatra begins every year in the month of Chaitra. The first day of the jatra, known as Dhwo kwabijyaigu or ‘the god carried downwards’, this year was on 10 April, and saw <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/biska-celebrations-begin-in-bhaktapur/">throngs of devotees</a> gather in Bhaktapur to join in the festivities.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">Makers of Machhindranath</a>, Cynthia CooTaking place over nine days and attended by devotees from the three cities of the Valley, the celebrations start four days before 1 Baisakh, which is Nepali New Year, and end four days after, with the chariot, Bhailakha, being pulled by locals in front of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-new-nyatapola/">Nyatapola Temple</a> on both days.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c7f9c7e80680e0bd495jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4096" height="2731"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c839c7e80680e0bd496jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4096" height="2731"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c879c7e80680e0bd497jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2250" height="1892">Shilpakar has been in charge of the construction of the Bhailakha for the past couple of years, which begins two months before the jatra and involves all castes, with Shilpakars building the structures, Chitrakars adding colour and paints, Nakarmis installing the roof, and Manandhars tying the ropes of the chariot.This year six artisans over the age of 40 built the Bhailakha. One of them was the 75-year-old Lal Bahadur Tamakhu, who is a farmer for ten months in a year and spends the remaining two building the chariot.“It is God's work,” he says. “Doing it gives me great pleasure and enjoyment, and we also get to make some money.”Prem Lal Shilpakar used to be paid 60 paisa a day when he started working on the chariot. Last year workers were paid Rs1,500 a day. But chariot-making is no walk in the park.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c8a9c7e80680e0bd498jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"><figcaption>Lal Bahadur Tamakhu. Photo: HIMAL KHABAR.</figcaption></figure>“Since the chariot is <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">built with wood</a> which was already part of the construction in previous years, it is difficult to find people with the right experience,” he says. There is much care and attention involved, Shilpakar adds, as new wood is only used to replace decayed or damaged pieces. The current Bhailakha has timber that is more than 65 years old in its structure.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c8d9c7e80680e0bd499jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c909c7e80680e0bd49ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720">Lal Bahadur Tamakhu shows the ropes for the Bhailakha. Photo: HIMAL KHABAR.But an increasing number of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/who-looted-nepals-gods/">younger people are moving away</a> from this ancestral craft. At present, few artisans are as experienced as Prem Lal Shilpakar in the construction, but his own sons do not share his passion or enthusiasm.“I worry what will happen when I cannot work anymore,” he laments. “If the younger generation does not step up, this craft, this knowledge will disappear with me.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c939c7e80680e0bd49bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4096" height="2731"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c979c7e80680e0bd49cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4096" height="2731">Many local traditions and heritage in Kathmandu now risk facing the same fate with the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men/">younger generation moving overseas</a> for studies and work. But Aash Bahadur Lakhey Ghising Deu, who joined the Bhailakha artisans three years ago, is rather hopeful and says it is up to the people to keep them thriving.He adds: “It is a tradition <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15607#.YlON8tNBxH0">passed down through generations</a>. If we don’t do it, who will?”Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/129169">Himal Khabar original</a> by Aria Parasai.Read more: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18013#.YlOKbdNBxH0">Whose heritage is it  anyway?</a> Marit Bakke

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

The tug of tradition

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720da99c7e80680e0b78d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"/><figcaption>Photo: LIEW YU WEI/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>Many great cities and civilisations in world history have collapsed, their populations forced to relocate, when their water systems ran dry. But in Kathmandu Valley, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages/">hiti </a>water supply systems built centuries ago were so robust that its cities never suffered a shortage.In the 6th century CE, Kathmandu was the only city in the world that had mastered the technology to sustainably provide drinking water to its inhabitants deep in core residential areas. Free flowing, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/solution-to-kathmandus-water-crisis/">safe drinking water</a> was available in the city round the clock, throughout the year.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/saving-nepals-hiti-heritage/">Saving Nepal’s hiti heritage</a>, Nepali TimesGenerations of rulers, merchants and community leaders built a network of ponds, canals, underground filtration systems and artistic hiti conduits as a public service. Since ancient times, kings to common citizens regarded <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/day-to-worship-water-in-kathmandu/">water as a public utility</a>.Making water accessible to all living beings, human, plant and animal, was considered a social and religious duty. Many mandatorily offered water to the gods as part of the daily ritual worship.Kathmandu Valley, surrounded by a densely forested rim of mountains, provide the ideal geographical condition for natural flow of water downwards from vast <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dont-wait-for-melamchi-nepal,3765">rainwater</a> catchment zones.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720dab9c7e80680e0b78d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720dae9c7e80680e0b78d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2612" height="1629"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The hiti system taps into natural subsurface aquifer deposits, and channels that water to the end-point conduit. The system takes advantage of elevation difference for natural purification and a controlled flow of water based on gravitational force alone.“Considering that 70% of the terrain in Nepal is mountainous, the geography of the hills and valleys is naturally suitable for a water supply technology that depends on gravity alone, not requiring the input of any form of external energy,” explains civil engineer and researcher Hrishav Raj Joshi. “This was leveraged to its fullest when our ancestors designed the hiti system more than 1,500 years ago.”This indigenous technology reached its peak during the Lichhavi period (ca. 200-879 CE). The Mallas (1200-1769 CE) largely expanded the hiti system.  One of the oldest documented hiti, Mani Hiti in Mangal Bazar, built in 570 CE by an influential Bharavi, is still functioning today with very little maintenance and human intervention.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720db29c7e80680e0b78dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720db69c7e80680e0b78dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Sushil Shrestha, who has two decades of experience in restoring hiti and ponds, explains why the system lasts many centuries, with minimal cleaning and minor periodic maintenance requirements.He says, “All components of the hiti system were built using locally available skills and materials like soil, wood, bricks and stone. This ensured self-sufficiency, sustainability and longevity.”The builders applied an ingenious biological intervention to keep the channels and spouts running sustainably over centuries.  The drainage, when blocked, was cleaned with live frogs and snakes were sent down the narrow drains, and their wriggling motion as they forced their way out of the lower end of the drain, would clear up the obstruction.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720db99c7e80680e0b78dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="14042" height="9934"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/restoring-rest-houses-to-revive-culture/">Public open spaces</a> played an important socio-cultural role in Kathmandu's urban fabric. The classic Nepal Bhasa song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8ZIGdUKJTM">Rajamati Kumati</a>, mentions three different hiti in Kathmandu. The beautiful Rajmati slips and falls while fetching water from one of these stone spouts.Adding beautiful images of different gods to the hiti gave it aesthetic value, as well as religious significance. This protected the structure from intentional harm.Most hiti had an <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/day-to-worship-water-in-kathmandu/">intangible support system</a> called<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/street-vs-guthi-bill/"> guthi </a>– an association of individuals and families from a community created to undertake a specific social and cultural activity – that took care of its annual cleaning and maintenance of the water supply network.The Guthi usually had a large endowment of agricultural land, the returns from which payed for its activities adequately. Unfortunately, most Guthis have died away, also leading to the disappearance of many hiti.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720dc09c7e80680e0b78ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="2000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dont-just-blame-god-for-floods-and-landslides/">uncontrolled and unplanned urbanisation</a> Kathmandu in the last few decades is threatening the existence of this age-old system. Most public open spaces in and around the Valley that functioned as the rainwater catchment areas are now encroached upon or heavily concretised. The underground structures for piping in and filtering the water have mostly been destroyed by haphazard construction.This led to the<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages/"> rapid deterioration and dysfunction</a> of the stone spouts, resulting in an acute water shortage in neighbourhoods. This is further underscored by the recent natural disaster in the headworks of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/still-chasing-the-melamchi-mirage/">Melamchi drinking water supply mega project</a>, construction of which began about 20 years ago at a cost of $464 million.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101140/63720dc49c7e80680e0b78dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Supriya Shrestha, the current Miss Nepal Earth, has been working on the restoration of an ancient hiti in Dhobi Chaur in Kathmandu in collaboration with the local government. The numerous spouts there were a source of livelihood for the Dhobi community, whose traditional occupation is laundry.Says Shrestha, “Reviving a few hiti in Dhobi Chaur can lead to a massive movement across Kathmandu Valley so communities rehabilitate hiti in their own areas. This can eventually lead to a<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/resurrecting-rani-pokhari-right/"> shift of public opinion to preserve the remaining spouts</a>, restoring the ones that have dried up, and building new ones as a sustainable, cost-effective solution to Kathmandu’s worsening drinking water problem. Reviving the hiti can supplement the city’s modern water supply system, which has fallen short of the demand manifold for a long time.”The author is a conservation activist. <a href="mailto:alokstuladhar@gmail.com">alokstuladhar@gmail.com</a>Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages/">Water of the ages</a>, Alok Siddhi Tuladhar

Kathmandu’s ancient water spouts still functioning

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d13489c7e80680e0a9915jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3360" height="2240"/><figcaption>All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>A vast circle is crammed with densely packed houses stacked on top of one another. Drawn in black ink, their edges merge as they jostle in space.The narrow strips between the houses have fluid shadows, but in the middle of this urban universe is a white hole. “That is a doughnut,” says a visitor, at the Siddhartha Art Gallery where artist Sujan Dangol’s meticulous line drawings are on display at the <a href="https://www.siddharthaartgallery.com/exhibition-events/342-tale-of-a-city-invitation">Tales of a City exhibition</a> till the end of the month.“I cannot impose my concepts or ideas on viewers, their interpretation is just as genuine and appropriate because they view it subjectively as their own background, thoughts and feelings come into play,” Dangol explains in his studio in Koteshwor. Light bounces off his round glasses as the 40-year-old artist's gaze turns to the large window on his left.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d134b9c7e80680e0a9916jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3024" height="4032"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The studio is an open space with sofas, bookstands and tables about. In one corner is a large painting — “A friend is working on that one,” Dangol says — and metal and clay sculptures sit on various shelves. He is dressed in a long, brown corduroy shirt, and his hand hangs above a work in progress: another large canvas, nearly filled to the brim with tiny houses and streets.It is clear that the drawings depict the tremendous transformation that has turned Kathmandu Valley’s rich urban-agro civilisation into <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19765#.YZDL21VByJA">a concrete jungle</a>. Dangol’s sketches represent dizzying, densely packed towns with teetering temples and dilapidated homes, almost like a cartoon, or satire.For Dangol, art is a three-point collaboration between an artist, the object and the viewers who exist in the space between the abstract and the real. The experience is incomplete even when only one of the three is missing. The drawings feel at once familiar and foreign — the sprawling urbanscape is part of our daily lives, but they have also acquired an almost metaphysical aspect.A giant vajra, for example, looks as though wrapped in a shawl of windows and roofs — and Dangol invites the viewers to fill in the gaps, recognise and rediscover their own stories.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d134e9c7e80680e0a9917jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3360" height="2240">Sujan Dangol grew up in Mahabouddha near the Kathmandu Darbar Square when the historical towns of this emerald valley were still located along ridges with the slopes down to the rivers below devoted to agriculture.“I still remember the sights, sounds and smells of eating rice on the balcony during the minpachas holiday in winter,” adds Dangol, lamenting that today none of the things he used to enjoy as a child are accessible or possible.The concrete canopy of houses block out the sun, there are no public open spaces for children to run around in, there is the ever-present din of the city’s perpetual motion machine.These feelings of loss and nostalgia permeate all of Dangol’s exhibits. The artworks are rigorous and complex: each cityscape is meticulously drawn in pen and ink, filled with stark emotional and intellectual intensity. He recreates history and architecture in a visual language that is uniquely his, built on the bedrock of his own memories and infused with elements of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra/">folklore</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d13529c7e80680e0a9918jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1475" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Big Bell is a rendition of the one that stands in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-as-old-after-two-earthquakes/">Patan Darbar Square</a>, but its base is crammed with little houses and temples. Dark hills stretch behind, and at the feet of the monument are slabs that look like funeral ghat with black blobs spread about them.It is an ominous piece, foreboding. The sun casts a shadow behind itself and, on closer look, the roofs are bare and have holes in them with wooden beams poking out. The bell itself looks weary, the roof above it is worn out, and it is almost like a deep sigh escapes this 38x48 inch-frame with an overwhelming sense of loss.The other drawings evoke similar pathos. Carved Malla-era windows stand next to neoclassical doors, and somewhere in the middle are tall, flat and bare walls. But between them the galli is quiet and temple eaves have come undone. The ever-watchful eyes on the stupas look aged and tired, perhaps by the desolation they have witnessed.With the touch of pen and ink, Dangol reinvents a visual vernacular of memory and loss. But Dangol does not want the messaging to be too direct or blatant. He says: “I am not a heavily conceptual artist … if I start a piece with too much intention, it disrupts my workflow.”https://youtu.be/eF4hwcbBhsAProud of his Newa heritage, Dangol aspires to develop a new grammar for Nepali contemporary art that builds on the culture and skills that he grew up around and the relics of which are still present. There is no western influence here: the styles are borrowed from gardeners, woodcarvers, tailors, masons and brick-layers, and also the struts, carved windows and exteriors of abandoned buildings.“The cross-hatching in my drawings are inspired by my wife’s straw mats,” says Dangol. Miniature installations featuring straw mats and seeds by his wife, Sharmila Shrestha are also on exhibit in Tales of a City.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d13559c7e80680e0a9919jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3360" height="2240">Sujan Dangol traces the origin of this series to 2012, when as his graduation installation he built a city of 1,500 cardboard boxes and cartons of various brand names in the Nepal Art Council. The installation was complete with streets and roads that people could walk through and interact with. Architecture and heritage have since heavily influenced his art and outlook.“It takes over 500 or 1,000 years to build and develop an urban civilisation, and nurture its language, heritage, culture and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/exploring-nepals-culinary-diversity/">cuisine</a>,” says Dangol. “But when I look at Kathmandu today, I am saddened by the changes in the last 20-30 years, and especially following the 2015 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lessons-not-learned-from-2015/">earthquake</a>. This is not normal. Development and progress should be gradual, not disorganised.”Houses, says Dangol, are not just places of residence. The traditional brick, timber and tiles of the buildings with their carved wooden columns, windows and doors represent an <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303">invaluable legacy and expression</a> of craft, history, experience and expectations that span generations.“Individual houses are just as important as temples,” he says. And a street of houses has a collective ambience, so <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/deconstructing-reconstruction/">heritage conservation</a> must look beyond just monuments to these ordinary neighbourhoods and their old dwellings that are being torn down to be replaced with concrete.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d13599c7e80680e0a991ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The bahal, falcha and hiti are being overrun with selfishness and greed, the accelerated consumerism and obsession with money do not value the history and heritage of Swoinga, Kathmandu Valley.Being passionate about literature, art and architecture, Dangol says depicting these changes in his drawings is an outlet for his aggravation with the accelerated and irreversible change happening all around.One particularly gloomy drawing is Kalki that depicts the deity, one of the ten avatar of Vishnu, with fiery hair and wings, riding a leaping horse above a city as contrails swirl behind him. Kalki looks straight at the viewer with a deeply unsettling expression on his face — the rage in his eyes is shared by his horse which has a chain of skulls looping around his neck.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d135e9c7e80680e0a991bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="849" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kalki is associated with destruction, and is the prophesied incarnation of Vishnu at the end of the current Kali Yug cycle of existence in Hindu cosmology. The destruction is followed by Satya Yug, when the chaos and darkness end.This is an important metaphor in Dangol’s drawing: destruction looming over a city, heritage on the verge of extinction. But, at the same time, Kalki is also the harbinger of cleansing and renewal.The exhibition ‘Tale of a City’ is open until 29 November at Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Revisted, Kathmandu.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18013#.YZDNdlVByJA">Whose heritage is it anyway?</a>, Marit Bakke<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-time-to-every-purpose-occupation,3023">A time to every purpose</a>, Sahina Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/restoring-a-piece-of-nepals-history/">Restoring a piece of Nepal's history</a>, Sahina Shrestha

heritage-conservation

The tug of tradition

Kathmandu’s ancient water spouts still functioning

Between the lines with Sujan Dangol