Modern Usage of Manda: Art

words & graphics by Sanyukta Shrestha

Some histories are written in words, others in art. The latter generally tells the story of people like you and me. Leaving behind the story of authorities and their achievements, it shifts focus on those nameless people who collectively lived as cultural communities. To some extent, and given the magnitude of its influence, it may also help to define our future societies.

*   *   *   *

When I joined Guthi in London in 2010 AD, Mha Puja was almost the only annual cultural event. Since then, despite my team’s attempts to introduce various other cultural festivals like Paha Chahre, Ghya Chaku Sanlhu, Yomari Punhi and Kwati Punhi, the popularity of Mha Puja has been unparalleled and remains the only one observed continuously for the last 17 years with some 500 guests only in London.

In the visible core of Mha Puja is the manda: or mandal. One of the most popular of its types is that of an eight-petalled lotus. This is one design in which I see endless possibilities to interprete many different ideas. This blog will explain how, and will try to provide some inspiration to whom it may concern.

*   *   *   *

While drawing this manda:, we draw a water circle outside it, and an oil circle at its centre, while rest of the other additives differ as per family traditions. One then enshrines one’s body and soul on this sacred pedestal before performing a worship of rejuvenation, that is Mha Puja.

So how would it look if this symbolic manda: was translated to a graphic design? An answer to this was what I sought with my first design for Guthi’s marketing material in NS 1131 (2010 AD).

In the following year NS 1132 (2011 AD), I tried a more radical design for Guthi’s Mha Puja promotion by placing the word “Mha Puja” itself on the pedestal of the deities. A lotus pedestal still made it to the centrestage but this time, the point of view altered. Rather than the human body, I wanted to enshrine the act of worshipping itself.

In the same year, the community summer picnic got a traditional makeover. This was inspired from an old Newah manuscript found in London, which I much recently learnt from a senior paubha artist, is the manda: of VajraYogini. In this design, I have mainly exploited the radial symmetry of a manda: in compositing various different attractions of the picnic, while retaining a traditional look and feel.

Later in NS 1133 (2012 AD), I felt the idea of tradition was getting a little bit too much. At this juncture, I felt a more slicker rendition could be a welcome change. The result was a generous dose of graphic constellation of manda’s, visible from a distance as well as in its details.

That year’s picnic poster again revisited the idea of manda: but in a triplet to house three main offers of traditional mask painting, feast and board games; still maintaining some semi-contemporary style-guides.

By NS 1135 (2014 AD), I had called it an official quit from Guthi’s executive board whilst stepping down as a lifelong volunteer. There was less for me to learn and even least to teach. My leaving wish was to see my Guthi sending its message all over the UK, which is exactly what I portrayed in my last Mha Puja poster that year.

They say, never say goodbye. I came back as a board member in 2014 AD. Funnily enough, the journey which started with re-designing the logo of Guthi in 2010 AD, finished with a logo for the board’s annual UK-wide convention, the Brihat Newah Muna, which again, was nothing but a lotus on a pond!

This time, with a Kumari’s eye in the centre to depict a higher level of authority.

Everything was well thought of. Nothing was unplanned. When it is, it can never be a true Newah art.
*   *   *   *

Beside these, I had many more non-manda: design fun as well, some of which are annexed below.
I may not have stayed forever but I did live it to the full,
– the Guthi life that was!

PS: All graphical artwork on this page were designed free of cost.

Dhungedhara : A Nepali Technology to Supply Water

By Sanyukta Shrestha

Published in DREAMS Magazine, August 2015

I was born to a household opposite a big marshy pond. When I was about six, local people dug it up to reveal a beautiful water conduit with hundreds of ancient sculptures lying around. I then realised why the town was called Naxal-DhungeDhara.

As I turned twenty, a pond next to Thamel, some 2 Km west from Naxal, was dug up to reveal another dhungedhara in working condition and accompanied by a number of Lichhavi period artefacts including a 397 years old inscription! I realised that my neighbourhood could be just one such example and a huge number of other dhungedharas could be well under the ponds or even the ground level waiting to be unearthed.

(Photo: Naxal-DhungeDhara, Kathmandu. Sanyukta Shrestha, 2013)

A more classic case being the excavation of HandiGaun in 1989 AD, which unearthed a dhungedhara dated 726 AD. Furthermore, the meaning of “BhotaHiti” would have lost in oblivion had there not been discovered four water conduits with an inscription dated 596 AD, according to historian Shanker Man Rajvamshi.

Furthermore, wherever the settlement of Newars expanded outside of Kathmandu, along with their festivals and food, they took their architectural expertise with them. That is the sole reason why dhungedharas are not a rare sight as far away as TeenDhara of Gorkha.

Technology & Challenges

Rainwater is absorbed from the ground to form natural sources that provide water to dhungedharas. In order not to depend entirely on rainwater, channels called rajkulo were built to supply water from rivers to the sources of dhungedhara. Also, several ponds were built around the dhungedhara so that water can seep through the land around it.

(Photo: The present state of GairiDhara, Kathmandu. Sanyukta Shrestha, 2013)

Speciality

The speciality of dhungedharas is in their use of gravity in channelling the water; systematic flow-control to regulate the amount, advanced drainage to avoid blockages, water-purification and waterproofing.

While modern basement constructions struggle to keep it waterproof, we can see implementation of advanced waterproofing technology in dhungedharas, – it is only the pout that delivers water without any leakage below ground level. How Nepali architecture was as advanced by the 5th century is unexplainable today!

The Architecture

Besides being primarily stone-built, the use of gold is common in royal versions like the ones found inside the palaces of Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur, alongside some public constructions like SunDhara located in each of the above three towns; an interesting exception being Dhalko‘s wooden dhara.

(Photo: Sundhara, Kathmandu. Bikkil Sthapit, 2014)

The basic architecture of a dhungedhara includes HitiMangah or the main spout structure, and HitiGah or the conduit’s basin. The HitiMangah further forms the most common trinity with a cult image above and a relief of Bhagirath below it. This fundamental combination is often housed within a sunken courtyard perhaps to facilitate the flow of water utilising gravitational pull. Often a paati, or resting platform, can be seen outside many dhungedhara complexes, to be used by travellers.

While common number of spouts per dhungedhara are either one or three, extension to four or five are also found. With one each to sample, Godavari‘s NauDhara, Balaju‘s BaiseyDhara and Muktinath‘s Ek-Saye-Aath-Dhara include nine, twenty-two, and a hundred and eight spouts respectively.

(Photo: Bhagirath as seen under the spout of Naxal-DhungeDhara. Sanyukta Shrestha, 2013)

As a beautiful blend of technology and art, dhungedharas are unique to Nepal as its spouts flank the iconic mythical character frequenting in Nepalese art, – the makara, carrier of Hindu goddess of water, Ganga. The usual presence of Bhagirath underneath these spouts is justified, as he is believed to be the one who brought Ganga from the heaven to earth.

According to a research by Riddhi Pradhan, other animals that are featured in the spouts are cow, goat, elephant, tiger and cock. Two such examples I could trace are the gomukhi (cow-headed) spouts found in Swayambhu‘s Bhuye Kheo and the NarayanHiti of Kathmandu.

History

While the earliest mention of dhungedhara is in an inscription dated 550 AD found in HadiGaun, the oldest among existing dhungedharas is the MangaHiti of Patan built in 570 AD. This unparalleled Nepali technology continued for as long as fifteen centuries, with some 300 more successful constructions between Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur, until the last and the largest known among these, Kathmandu‘s SunDhara, was built by Queen Lalit Tripura Sundari Devi in 1828 AD.

(Photo: MaruHiti, Kathmandu. Bikkil Sthapit, 2014)

While the most spoken language in Kathmandu valley kept changing over centuries, from early Lichhavi period through the Malla period, traditional water conduits were firstly called ‘Kirti’ (merit), then ‘Pranali’ (method), then ‘LwoHiti’ (stone tap) and more recently ‘dhungedhara’. As it stands literally, for early Lichhavi era, these conduits were a medium of earning religious and social merit; late Lichhavi period was when its construction became more systematic, and during the Malla period, it was taken to a completely next level of art and technology.

Religious Connection

The water from many dhungedharas has religious significance. While water from the left spout of Patan‘s MangaHiti initiates the character of Hiranyakashipu in Kartik Naach, that from its right spout is needed for the worship of Krishna temple. Likewise, Bhaktapur offers water from its SunDhara to goddess Taleju and serves those joining ShivaRatri from BhimDyoHiti. Also notable is the fact that major pilgrimage sites like Godavari, MataTirtha and Balaju have dhungedharas installed within their premises.

(Photo: MangaHiti, Patan. Bikkil Sthapit, 2014)

Social Beliefs and Myths

As a child, I could never understand this magic but my mum always asserted that dhungedhara’s water is cold in the summer and warm in the winter. She did prove her point by making me go and have a bath but something I failed to attest in the absence of geological surveys, was many people believing dhungedhara’s water to come with medicinal bonus; people drink water from Kathmandu‘s Sundhara as a cure for arthritis, and Bhaktapur‘s GahHiti is supposed to cure goitre.

Being a part of our social life for such a long time, dhungedharas share a significant space in Kathmandu‘s social belief system, whether it is our knowledge, superstition or even myth. About 700m west from Naxal-DhungeDhara, is the legendary NarayanHiti, – a dhungedhara that gives its name to the historic Royal Palace of the last Shah rulers of Nepal. Its spout is perhaps the most mythical of all, bearing a makara turning its head backward!

(Photo: NarayanHiti, Kathmandu. Prawesh Rajkarnikar, 2015)

I grew up listening to this local story:

Having to sacrifice a flawless person in order to run the NarayanHiti spout that had stopped working, King RaghavDev disguised himself after asking his son ManDev to severe this person in disguise. When ManDev was draining his father’s blood from his sword at the spout, the makara on the spouts couldn’t bear it and turned their heads backward.

“That’s why the trunk of NarayanHiti‘s makara is seen reversed, the only one of its kind in Nepal”, my mum would always whisper at the end, even for the hundredth time of re-telling this story.

As a grown up, her story really confused me how history actually repeated itself in the form of 2001 Royal massacre at NarayanHiti Palace just across the road. To me, the so-called ‘reversed’ trunk looks more like an accentuation making space for a smaller cow’s head protruding out of it.

The Future

When I was twenty-five, I moved to the metropolis of London and the everyday sight of dhungedhara would then make up a big part of my overall longing. Carefree kids diving in cold water to escape the mid-day summer heat, the common place for local ladies to have a bath and for the dhobi community to make best use of the courtyard on a business-as-normal day, – all seemed an idea far from the comforts of the first world.

Not that I would not meet Nepalis over here but their idea of development would sound as big as it could get, – engineers planning to build metro trains across the heart of Kathmandu, or IT experts suggesting a load-shedding Nepal to go for e-voting.

After solid two decades of the introduction of piped tap water in Kathmandu, it has fallen flat in catering the urban demand, and the forever setting back Melamchi project has had no other impact than political parties wooing their voters. We have by far lost the indigenous knowledge of all our engineering feats including dhungedharas.

Dhungedharas outside our houses have been running for as long as 1500 years but in the last 35 years of engineering education in Nepal, we have not found it necessary to revive our traditional water conduits despite the valley’s water crisis. This is also how a country loses its identity, – by forgetting its native technologies; pushing it further away from economic independence. It’s not just about heritage, it’s about failing to realise where our strength lies before even thinking of global competition.

 

Acknowledgements:
Prof. Sudarshan Raj Tiwari, Culture Expert Ganesh Ram Lachhi, Historian Shanker Man Rajvamshi, Engineer Prayag Raj Joshi, Researcher Riddhi Pradhan, SanuMaiya Shrestha, Documentarian Alok Siddhi Tuladhar, Artist Udaya Charan Shrestha.

Additional Researcher:
Reetu Joshi

Photographers:
Bikkil Sthapit, Sanyukta Shrestha, Prawesh Rajkarnikar.

 

The Nepali Door

by Sanyukta Shrestha

Presented at Symposium of South-Asian Murals and Floor Drawings, University of Westminster, London, Oct 2013
Presented at Annual Nepal Study Day, SOAS, London, April 2015
Published in DREAMS Magazine, April 2015

If you have been to Kathmandu, you must have asked yourself, “Why these paintings of parrots and eyes around the front doors?” Well, I did that too. But then, I needed my answers, really!

The Uniqueness

Although the city of Kathmandu boasts of some 2000 years long history, it was opened to rest of the world only 65 years ago. During the 2 centuries of isolation, the culture of Newars, believed to have originated around 300 BC, flourished in and around the valley. Today, their cultural heritage forms a part of the proud collection of almost every museum of the world. Particularly noted for their mastery in art, Newars create artwork in almost everything and everywhere, and the building of their residence is no exception. Much has been written about the ritual act of drawing manda: or madala on the floor but their door art is yet to be studied in depth.

Unlike the floor art of manda:, or even the Indian counterpart of Rangoli or Kolam, geometrical patterns do not form the basis of door art. While the practice of door art is on rapid decline following the last two decades of urbanization, it is definitely one of the unique features of Nepali culture.

Photo: Hiranyavarna Maahvihaar

Caa-Cin (read ‘Chaa-Chin’)

Artwork around the front door is called ‘Caa-Cin’ (clay symbols). Also referred as ‘Anga: Kipaa’ (wall art) or even ‘Lukhaa Dvaa’ (entry gate), it is mainly associated with decoration used to welcome the new bride which also signifies the status of women in the community. It includes figures of a parrot, an eye and a kalash on either sides of the door.

Religious Connection

The idea of a sacred or honorific gateway, or a torana, is quite popular in most Hindu and Buddhist traditions in South Asia. From the stone-carved monumental gates to flowers, leaves and fruits hanging between two posts or uprights is a popular tradition in many parts of the sub-continent. They are generally linked with religious practices and help to create an auspicious atmosphere besides making the guests feel welcome.In Nepal, while Buddhists paint Pancha Budhha on top, Hindus paint Bramha-Vishnu-Maheshwor-Ganesh-Kumar. This variation within the tradition of door art is in itself the hallmark of Nepal’s age-old religious tolerance. The artwork in Nepali doors is relatively simple, includes no elaborate design patterns and gives more freedom to the artists compared to how it is in classical painting; perhaps, due to the temporary nature of door art.

(Photo: Patan Gate)

The Artists

Historically, skills were passed on from one generation to the other within the family lineage of Newars. Families involved in creating artworks were from the occupational caste called Puns or Chitrakars. According to Prof David Gellner, Newars can be divided into 64 castes; and in 1995, Gerrard Toffin estimated around 1200 (0.3% of total Newars) as Chitrakars in Kathmandu. Toffin further identified some 20 different occasions in which Chitrakars were supposed to provide their artistic services.

Nepalese artists have been heavily involved in creating art for centuries. However, least importance was given to documentation and dissemination. Hence the present situation where neither the practitioners are able to explain anything clearly, nor the consumers of art can appreciate in its essence. Even when the clients commission for door art, they have it around their doors as a ritual requirement without necessarily knowing its inherent meaning.

The Missing Knowledge

Struck by the lack of available literature on parrot-eye-kalash, I decided to set off for Nepal even in the much awaited British summer of 2013. There, I found myself knocking the doors of every other traditional artist of commendable repute. None of those discussions were much enlightening at all.

(Photo: Door art, Patan)

While veteran PremMan Chitrakar rightly noted the varying design of eyes among Buddhists (meditative) and Hindus (wide-open), master artist Gyankar Vajracharya saw the Swasti-Chi (a unique auspicious mark with which most Nepalese scriptures start) as another regular inclusion just above the parrot. Lok Chitrakar agreed that in light of no available records, there is a lot of confusion as to why these symbols are actually painted.

Culture expert Tejeshwor Babu Gongah assumed parrot as a representative of wisdom or perfection, eyes for vision and kalash for completeness and prosperity. Prof TulsiLal Singh suggested if it had any connection with the Shuka-Baakha, an imported Nepalbhasha fable involving a parrot. These were but entirely their personal interpretations based on no available records.

(Photo: H. A. Oldfield’s paintings, 1850s)

It was not until I examined British surgeon Henry Oldfield’s paintings from 1850, that I found the eyes as the original symbols on the doors, and then the kalash, but parrots were nowhere to be seen. Even when I try my best to remember, either peacocks as the vehicle of Kaumaari, or swans for Brahmaayani are the only two birds making frequent appearance in classical Nepalese paintings. Parrot is hence a more recent addition.

There was no ultimate answer but something struck me on my flight back to London. People never felt the need to preserve their tradition but they were well ahead in exploiting it politically.

The Exploitation

Perhaps Nepali door art can be considered as one of the most interesting and rare phenomena in traditional art history in light of how it was exploited by the Panchayat system (1960-1990) to fulfil its undemocratic policy of “one nation, one language”. Not only did it marginalise ethnic languages, it also misrepresented traditional art; the evidence of which can be seen in various public gates erected in Kathmandu.

(Photos, from left to right: New Road Gate, Tundikhel Gate and a more recent Manakamana Gate.)

In an attempt to force a false patriotism, the then ruling government insensitively contaminated the profound meanings of traditional art elements with symbolic replacements like a cow, which was declared the national animal, and rhododendron, the national flower. While it effectively catered to their plan of Nepalisation, it also grossly misled the known theories of iconography. I felt like I was returning from the biggest show of insensitivity towards an ancient culture.

(Photo: Door art, Sankhu)

The Forgotten Artists of Nepal

The hitherto isolated Nepalese traditional art took its biggest turn exactly 200 years ago when BhajuMan Chitrakar was allowed to join the team of Nepalis visiting Britain for the first time ever, led by de-facto ruler Junga Bahadur Rana. Although we know very less about how photography started in Nepal, thanks to Sussane Von De Heide’s account of DirghaMan Chitrakar’s career and works, we know that the Chitrakars were expert cameramen by the late 19th century, finding themselves busy taking portraits and family photos of the Ranas.Puns or Chitrakars who were hired at every wedding or any other occasion for their painting services, today, stay away from the Newar doors which used to be incomplete without their art. Their clients happily go for a much cheaper alternative of custom-made prints on paper. Those who gave Nepal its artistic identity have far been forgotten.

Acknowledgements:
[1] Late Min Bahadur Shakya, Gyankar Vajracharya, PremMan Chitrakar, Lok Chitrakar, Tejeshwor Babu Gongah and Bakhat Bahadur Chitrakar for their valuable insight.
[2] Dr BalGopal Shrestha, Basu Kshitiz, Keshav Koirala, Niyukta Shrestha, Ramesh Lal Nakarmi, Dr Renuka Gurung, Sewa Bhattarai and Sunita Junu for resources.

Bisket Jatra : A Young Perspective

Guthi in London