| Username |
Post |
| Biswo |
Posted
on 09-Aug-02 07:28 PM
Swasthani is yet another Nepali book without the name of its writer.Looks
like writing a book was crime in our culture, almost all famous writers
were incarcerated in the past, and the writer of Swasthani had thus a valid
reason to remain anonymous. But he left a lasting legacy, proof?
look at the swarming banks of rivers in the month of Maagha.
I have heard Swasthani was written in 17th century in Nepal. It sounds
plausible. The oldest Swasthani book I have seen was in a friend's house,
written in Newari and Sanskrit, and it was written about a hundred and
ten years ago. It was handwritten, and illuminated (first illuminated
Nepali book that I saw!)I still don't know in which language it was
written first, Nepali or Newari, and I would very much like to know it.
Swasthani is not totally original. It draws heavily from Brahmanda
Purana. It starts with the story of how the world was created, and
then soon talks about the exploits of Mahadeva. The exploits include
marrying a rich princess Satidevi, killing his father, and carrying
her decaying body around the 'world'. Swasthani also includes
mesmerizing description of how Mahadeva destroyed Tripura, and the
tearjerker story about Gomaa, which is an original story
by the writer himself. Gomaa was the unfortunate lady whose
childhood mistake landed her to the unimaginable tribulation. But
her worship of Swasthani paid off: her son Nava Raj experienced
epiphany with the god Harihar, and eventually becomes the king
of the state of Lawanya.
Since about four hundred years, this story is being told in Nepal, and
it is pretty popular among women. The writer, by remaining anonymous,
missed a great opportunity to immortalize himself.
-----
In one hot summer some years ago, I was in Pokhara. When I went to
meet one of my close relatives in Gandaki Hosptial, I had to walk
all the way from Mahendrapul in the dusty but bustling market
sector. The road was crumbling from its edge,and each vehicle
would directly blow the dust and its exhaust gas to my face. I had
travelled uninterruptedly since several days, and spent the previous
night sleepless from KTM to Pokhara.As I went to hospital, I almost
passed out with the rigour of those travels. My relative advised me
to take two bottle of saline waters.As the energy of water went into
my veins from my wrist,I slowly regained energy and started to relax.
In front of me, I could see a lot of patients, but this one
particularly riveted my attention.A few people had just brought
a 30+ man to the bed. The doctors and nurses were frantically
checking him, while his two daughters, who were in ragged clothes
and who looked famished in their appearances, were huddled with
their mother, a late 20 lady, diminutive, bulaaki in her nose and
sadness in her eyes.I later figured out the man had gone through
a kind of convulsion in his house before he passed out. He was
originally from Darchula, but was working in the British Camp those
days. His wife didn't even know their address in Darchula, let alone
the way to go back there. The doctor pronounced the man dead a
few minutes later.As that happened, I looked at his bed again,
and I could still see his bare hand, fingers starkly bent in
uncompromising rigor mortis, as if he was resisting his departure
to the heavenly land. He was the sole bread winner of his family.
He ,as I figured out, died of heart attack. The children were still
motionless when I looked at them, speaking no word as if they
were spooked, as if they understood the death and its horror, as if
they were afraid of everyone in that room. Their mom was mum, and
stoic, while other workers from the British camp were trying to
console that unfortunate trio.
The second incident that caught my attention was this, the lady
was busy in her brother-in-law's marriage, and was also of 30s.
She was busy all day shopping for the marriage in Prithvi Chouk
and as she went to house, she complained of uncomfort. Later,
she suffered emesis and convulsion, and the family members rushed
her to the nearby clinic, where she was administered an 'unspecified'
shot. She became unconscious then. So, the family members rushed
her to the hospital. She had a very adoring husband, who was with
her in the hospital. The doctors came, and they decided the patient
was 'probably' suffering from hypoglycemia and tried to test the
efficacy of a ten percent destrose.It didn't work. She died before
my second saline water finished.
Witnessing death makes our experiences tougher, and starkly real. It
takes us to some kind of truth level that we would otherwise not be
able to go to.I think that hospital setting was a palimpsest
scratched with the horrors of untold deaths, and it was also a school
for graduation to the uncharted realms of extraordinary experiences.
When I left the hospital, I had witnessed my own veracious epiphany,
as opposed to the apocryphal one I learned in a religious book that
some fictional character experienced(and gained a principality later),
my own experience had made me somewhat knowledgeable, and clearer
about the meaning and existence of life, death and ,probably, god.
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| Biswo |
Posted
on 09-Aug-02 07:34 PM
Sorry about the title. It should be 'almighty'.
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| NK |
Posted
on 09-Aug-02 07:40 PM
I have never heard of swasthani katha. My grandmother warned us that swasthani would bring bad luck to our house. And have never witnessed death either, well except in my dream. I don't know Biswo if I should call you lucky or just being there at the wrong time! [I wanted to put a smiley face at the end but thought it may not be appropriate when we are talking about death]
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| deep |
Posted
on 09-Aug-02 08:53 PM
Swasthani is full of ke ke ho ke ke. Tara ketaketi ma padheko Yam brahma Barurendra rudra marutas...ahile samma pani kanthai chha.
I felt sad really sad after reading the tragic incident of two deaths. Especially the first one. For some life is cruel, cruel almost to the extent.
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| hello |
Posted
on 09-Aug-02 09:05 PM
Bohoo hoo hooo....Big deal....Grow up wussies.
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| fan of swasthani |
Posted
on 09-Aug-02 09:24 PM
Didn't that Ranjan dude from Spiney Babbler translate the book?
Magh, despite the cold, despite having to get up early in the mornign to do puja, or the rituals of the evening before the story, the prashad, the discomfort on my legs when sitting crosslegges, despite having to read two chapters because Shiv ji still has his wife over his shoulder, Swasthani reminds me of my childhood.
It is not merely literature Biswo ji. For me, in terms religious education, swawsthani was it! No sanskrit except on Janai purnima when the baje came to give that thread for our wrist, you know.
anyhow
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| Biswo |
Posted
on 10-Aug-02 01:14 AM
Hi NK,
That is surprising. It is first time I have heard of such belief towards Swasthani.
I experienced a month long listening of the story. I still remember I used to be
very sad when the story of Gomaa Brahmani was being told.
What still surprises me is not only the lack of the name of the writer, but also the
lack of its original nature, was it written in Nepali or Nepal language? The
oldest book that I mentioned I saw was in Nepal Bhasa and Sanskrit.
Fanji,
>It is not merely literature Biswo ji. For me, in terms religious education, swawsthani
>was it! No sanskrit except on Janai purnima when the baje came to give that
>thread for our wrist, you know.
I think Swasthani somewhat resembled like current PhD dissertation, first literautre
survey on how the world was created, then some other excerpts from Shiva's life,
then the original work of the writer: the story of Gomaa Brahmani.Scriptures
can be treated for their literature value also. People like me , who are highly
skeptical of religions/religious messages still enjoy a lot reading these books
because they take us right into the medieval Nepal/India and give somewhat
idea about people's lifestyle and belief then.
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| Dilasha |
Posted
on 10-Aug-02 03:23 PM
Swasthani reminds me of the nights I used to spend at my mamaghar during that month when every night the kids would flock to the puja kotha and surround the elderly person who'd read the book to us, most of the time it'd be my late grandfather and sometimes my aunt. I was too young at that time to decipher the essence of the story however as time passed by, I found Parvati to be the epitome of grace, compassion and devotion and thought that Shiva was a bad father wondering how he could chop off the head of his own son. Anyways the best part of the whole thing was the delicious fruits and dakshina that we'd be given after the reading which made me wish that the ritual would go on every day too bad it didn't. and i also enjoyed singing those beautiful bhajans. Some nights we'd consider as "jagraam basne" where most of the family members along with kids stayed up the whole night watching movies after the puja was over and that too was my favorite part. So for me these are the memories attached with Swasthani, thanks for bringing the topic Biswo. It rejuvenated my spirit.
My paternal grandfather passed away in the same hospital that you mentioned above. I was about seven. Although I wasn't too close to him, I remember being shocked when my friend broke the news to me that too in the school bus. I didn't cry but I got terribly scared. Scared of I don't know what; perhaps of the fear that something would happen to me as well right at that moment. But then nothing happened. And later i found myself bursting into tears in the moment of solitude only to realize that my friend who gave me the news was coming towards me. With one hand on my shoulder she tried to console me "narou, narou na, I heard that your phupu will come to pick you up in the hostel". At that moment all I could think of was no one but my mom who was miles away from me in another country. I just wished God gave me wings so I could fly and be with my mom in her warm loving arms right at that moment, how happy I thought I would be then if only my wish came true.
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| villageVoice |
Posted
on 10-Aug-02 10:01 PM
Swasthani to me was quiet evenings with Mother, Grand Mother, and some neighbors. Home, sweet home, away from boarding school. Prasad. Yam Bramha. Reading practices during the winter break. One of my earliest lessons on patience and empathy.
To me, the story would lose its novelty after the first reading, but I still felt sad when Mum would choke over Goma Bramhini's plight, and Gand Ma (may her soul rest in peace!) cried copiously, saying, "Bichara, choo, chooo, chooo..." It was fun in a sad way.
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| Biswo |
Posted
on 11-Aug-02 12:50 AM
Dilasha and VVji,
It is so interesting to find out how our experiences (of patiently listening to the story
of Swasthani while furtively looking at Naibedhya) seem to be so much identical.
Dilasha, I was reading this Bhagabata Gita somedays ago after I finished f
my tests. You know the whole lessons of Gita are about death, a sight of
death transforms our lives and I think Gita tries to explain this in its most natural
way: by asserting that death is foreordained,inevitable and compulsory.It took me
to the past, to recall two extraordinary events related to death, where people
died , leaving their loved ones alone, wondering, and in disbelief, to cope with
the tribulation of this mundane life.
In 1974, the book 'Life after life' was the best seller in USA. It was written by
Raymond Moody. It was a collection of experiences of people who were declared
dead, but later came to life. I don't believe everything that is there, but the
study of that book often gravitates me towards thinking the uncharted realm:
the realm of death.
Hey, I also saw my grandfather's death. It was so heartbroking for all my siblings,
we still talk about it.One fine saturday morning of Jyestha,the man who was more
than 84, woke up, and complained with his only son about some pain in respiration.
As he was shifted to near Tulasiko math, his soul relinquished his body for ,what
he always believed to be, a journey to heavenly realm. I missed him so much in
subsequent years,and since I knew he had done those 'baitarani', 'chaurasi' etc ,
for 'paratra',I always hoped he would get what he hoped for, despite the fact
that I am not really a believer.
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