The 2015 earthquake damaged more than 750 heritage structures in Nepal. Many collapsed entirely to the ground, including the 900-year-old Maru Sattal, or Kasthamandap.&nbsp; There was much controversy about how to rebuild the structure, and restoration was entrusted to the citizen-led Kasthamandap Reconstruction Committee. With few architectural records of the original Kasthamandap, restoring it from scratch was not easy. Fortunately, the German architect Wolfgang Korn had published minutely detailed measurements of the structure in his 1976 book Traditional Architecture of the Kathmandu Valley.&nbsp; Korn’s drawings proved invaluable in accurately recreating this historic building from which Kathmandu borrows its name. Korn’s original sketches, along with other architectural studies of Nepal’s many monuments are preserved at Nepal Architecture Archive (NAA). The NAA is an initiative of the Saraf Foundation, which is also behind the unique Taragaon Next in Boudha. The idea about setting up the archive goes back to 2009 when Arun Saraf and his wife Namita met architects Niels Gutschow and Erich Theophile at the Yak &amp; Yeti bar to have a spirited conversation about conservation. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/saving-nepal-s-archives-from-oblivion">Saving Nepal’s archives from oblivion</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042105048_c962dd66e0e96741f699cdd6fb56f93625cc6db8e2d1ea88b8c9ea856619b0bd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023042105048_c962dd66e0e96741f699cdd6fb56f93625cc6db8e2d1ea88b8c9ea856619b0bd" data-rendition-name="original" width="5184" height="3456" loading="lazy" alt="An archive of Nepali Heritage"> </figure>  Over the years, the talk turned serious and focussed on the need to document, preserve and ‘re-activate’ Kathmandu Valley’s historic landscape, through restoration and research, and with a special focus on indigenous heritage.&nbsp; When the Saraf Foundation began to restore the dilapidated Taragaon structure in 2013, it also began to acquire documents, sketches and photographs that related to Nepal’s religious and social architecture and vernacular landscape.&nbsp; “It was a much more organic process,” recalls Namita Saraf, co-founder of the Saraf Foundation and Director of Taragaon Next. “We had the building here, and did not want to tear down its beautiful architecture.”&nbsp; Then Niels Gutschow curated an exhibition there in 2014 and it seemed like a good idea to use the space to store and showcase Nepal’s architectural heritage. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/james-Nye-in-Nepal,4186">Digitising archives, sharing knowledge</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042105048_032e93a852ee81a1cd2e62ad8afa63d1ff029795cd5563cfe8b2a69c978058e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023042105048_032e93a852ee81a1cd2e62ad8afa63d1ff029795cd5563cfe8b2a69c978058e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4029" height="2686" loading="lazy" alt="An archive of Nepali Heritage"> </figure>  Initially, the Foundation collected material for an exhibition that would re-open Taragaon to the world. There were 150 documents from various European and American scholars who had come to Nepal starting in the 1950s with different projects. Arun Saraf remembers a scholar friend who left 10 cartons of papers for safekeeping until he returned. “He did not come back. A year passed, then another, and we added the papers to our archive,” he says. The collection continued to grow, and by 2015 nearly 2,000 archival material were housed at the Saraf Foundation, including architectural drawings, maps, sketches, photographs, slides, negatives, beta tapes, books, research documents, reference documents, proposals, feasibility studies, unpublished reports, diaries, manuscripts and digital materials.&nbsp; The collection now needed a more definitive home, and a room was quickly set on the fourth floor of the Hyatt Regency hotel. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/adventures-of-a-lone-archivist/" target="_blank">Adventures of a lone archivist</a>, Alisha Sijapati  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042105048_347ba89a2e80f9e6243e1dc0c31e7326cbef3980b51507a977da8f40914d83df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023042105048_347ba89a2e80f9e6243e1dc0c31e7326cbef3980b51507a977da8f40914d83df" data-rendition-name="original" width="3325" height="4987" loading="lazy" alt="An archive of Nepali Heritage"> </figure>  Today, the unassuming double doors at the end of a corridor open into another long corridor lined with traditional pots on one side and carved window brackets on the other. The corridor leads into another room: the Nepal Architecture Archive.&nbsp; There are no windows, and it is a scholar’s dream to be in such a room, among books and papers, smelling of antiquity and yesterday’s world. The walls are lined with framed maps, paintings and sketches, alongside custom-made moveable chests and drawers. An intricately carved wooden window sits surrounded by original drawings and reproductions of chaitya, temple and the façade of a traditional Newa house.&nbsp; On the adjacent wall is a door from Thimi, possibly from a temple and salvaged from a demolition site in 1995. This door is nearly 2.5m tall and of unique design with sharp geometric patterns. A figure of Hanuman is carved on the top-centre, and directly underneath are nails in a multi-pronged group. The archivist Asmita Nepal’s workstation is at the centre of the room. Her computer is surrounded by books and sheets of paper. She explains that archiving is more than simply filing or storing information and materials: there are often stories to tell about each object. “Archives are usually seen as repositories of static data, and thus rarely explored,” says Nepal, “but they provide a space to create a movement of knowledge, across time and space.”&nbsp; The NAA receives a range of diverse material regularly, which undergo a digital scanning process, online references, and copyright adjustment according to international standards. Eka Resources helped to set a foundation for the NAA’s digitisation and standardisation processes, and the materials are now accessible to the public on written requests.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-nepal-s-history-colourful">Making Nepal’s history colourful</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230421050412_ba2b2a2dbcacd0fa4a31b414b8bd41d1af73d23558f4e4aa9d59011794cd0a3a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230421050412_ba2b2a2dbcacd0fa4a31b414b8bd41d1af73d23558f4e4aa9d59011794cd0a3a" data-rendition-name="original" width="4012" height="2675" loading="lazy" alt="An archive of Nepali Heritage"> </figure>  “We are not hoarding,” says Arun Saraf, “we are making sure that these important documents and testimonies of our past have a home.” Either the foundation approaches scholars, or the scholars approach the foundation, but the aim of archiving is the same: to preserve research works on Nepal and to put them in public domain so that future scholars may easily access them.&nbsp; Scholars whose work currently held at the NAA include Niels Gutschow, Wolfgang Korn, Jørgen Rahbek Thomsen &amp; Jens Wærum (from the Danish Architects team), John Harrison, Andreas Brandt, Robert Powell, Konstanty Gutschow, Thomas Kelly, Tiziano Terzani, Axel Weller, Klaus Kunzmann, Klaus Kette, Franz Frei, Ulrich Burscher, Thomas Turscher, Raimund Wuldz, and Peter Herrle.&nbsp; There are around 80,000 individual documents, drawings and photographs, excepting slides. While European and American scholars currently have more representation, the NAA is also actively seeking scholars from Nepal and the region for its expanding collection. Read also: <a href="http://www.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/05/17/documenting-loss/" target="blank">Documenting Loss</a>, Stéphane Huët  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042105048_0157e5b59999a3fe44f7a81dc64b31a9202387f92b0ed390e67d1ea174c66979.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2023042105048_0157e5b59999a3fe44f7a81dc64b31a9202387f92b0ed390e67d1ea174c66979" data-rendition-name="original" width="3765" height="2510" loading="lazy" alt="An archive of Nepali Heritage"> </figure>  “Being an archivist is so much more than managing the collection. Beyond cataloguing, recording, arranging, it involves also knowing the collection inside-out,” Asmita Nepal explains. “An archivist studies the material beyond its tangible aspects, its story, its maker, background, patron and journey.”&nbsp; It is a lengthy and dynamic process, and requires patience and passion. The NAA’s mission is that these documents must be within the reach of Nepal’s communities. It aims to democratise scholarship so Nepalis themselves better understand the country’s history and heritage. Preservation is the priority since the materials themselves are so fragile. “This gives us as a people the opportunity to decide together what should be kept safe for the future generations. Why take apart something that has value? Why destroy it?”remarks Arun Saraf.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230421150456_d8664680150e17ffa296b5fd2ea9c257d0e05006f8d8c4e0cb3f41e93c818f74.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230421150456_d8664680150e17ffa296b5fd2ea9c257d0e05006f8d8c4e0cb3f41e93c818f74" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="sarafs and korn"> <figcaption>Arun and Namita Saraf (left) in conversation with Wolfgang Korn (right) at the Foundation's recent Taragaon Lecture Series #9 held in March 2023. Photo: TARAGAON NEXT.</figcaption> </figure>  The foundation also organises Lecture Series by scholars. Taragaon Next also has a new permanent exhibition co-curated by Sujan Chitrakar ‘Archiving for the Future: An Intersection of Heritage and Architecture’ which displays several objects, documents, paintings and instruments from the NAA, keeping with this theme of making Nepal’s architectural and academic past accessible. “We are just custodians and trying to get more people to care about this as we do,” says Namita Saraf. “Archiving may sound boring, but in fact it is fun and fulfilling work.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/nation/data-mapping-the-aftermath-of-earthquake,2218" target="blank">Mapping the aftermath</a>, Ayesha Shakya

Ashish Dhakal

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An archive of Nepali heritage

<div class="embed-block"><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/133">							<img width="762" height="261" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11c39c7e80680e0da4f5jpeg.jpg" alt=""></a>
											Issue #133 21-27 February 2003</div>
The obsession of our leaders with Singapore is unmatched. Every prime minister we have had in the 30 years (some of them serial prime ministers) has promised to turn Nepal into a Singapore one too many times. Why not just build a Nepal that is just and fair for everyone?
Many readers are going through a withdrawal syndrome after the Ass formally stepped down, including the author his-self. This week we revisit one of the earlier <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4308#.Y_guAy8w1KM">‘Under My Hat’ columns</a> which takes a dig at our Singaporean aspirations.&nbsp;
Excerpts from <a href="https://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_133.pdf">issue #133 21-27 February 2003</a> 20 years ago this week:
If, one day, we want to become filthy rich like the Singaporeans, it is pretty clear that we must institute stiff fines for all major and minor misdemeanours and also turn ourselves into a penal colony.
But let’s be realistic: do our army, navy and air force have the capacity to instill fines on every non-flushing Nepali? Sadly, the answer is an unequivocal “no”. So, unlike Singapore, which penalises offenders with fines, we must use positive enforcement by rewarding those who do things right. In Nepal, instead of taking money away from those who litter, we must give money to those who don’t.
Cash prize of Rs 2,000 for the lone pedestrian who actually used the overhead walkway at Bhotahity in the last fiscal year. To be presented at a public felicitation ceremony chaired by the Mayor of Kathmandu or the MP of Kathmandu, whoever is elected first.
The Honest Cop Award in Cash or Kind for the pre-embarkation security check personnel at Tribhuvan Intercontinental Ballistic Airport who doesn’t ask you to open your wallet during the mandatory body search and contribute generously to the Free Lunch Fund for Kathmandu’s Finest.
The columnist who adheres to the highest standards of personal hygiene by not grooming his nostrils in full view of the rest of his staff during the course of writing the above column. This award carries with it a permanent residence certificate for Singapore. Terima Kasi.
From archive material of Nepali Times of the past 20 years, site search: <a href="http://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">www.nepalitimes.com</a>

Singha Darbar, not Singapore

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/637238079c7e80680e0c7364jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"/><figcaption>King Bhupatindra Malla as Vishwaroop with his queen Vishwa Laxmi in his arms in Bhaktapur’s 55-Window Darbar. On either side the vast mural depicting Krishna-leela unfurls largely intact despite neglect in the previous centuries. ALL PHOTOS: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>The noise and dust from busy traffic at the Mangal Bazar intersection filters in through the lattice window at a corner of Patan Museum. Inside, along the walls of the dark, cool corridor are a series of half-erased murals.These 17th–18th century wall paintings – 195x210cm and 197x240cm – are indecipherable, but as the eyes get used to the soft interior, four horizontal bands on either side, of approximately 50cm height, begin to take shape. Red separates from blue, lines and angles give way to faint forms and figures. Two-tiered temples rise on the north wall in the cacophony of colours, while a musical procession marches across the passage. There are a couple animals and gods too – but beyond that, not much can be known.Only fragments remain. The murals are defaced by scratches, including what looks like a cross between the Prachalit (or Devnagari) letter क and a human figure with one arm on the hip, giving this Malla-era artwork a feral touch. After the Shah conquest of Patan, the palace complex was repurposed by the police, with one wing even used to house prisoners. During this time and perhaps till much later, whitewash would be regularly applied over the paintings.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/6372380b9c7e80680e0c7365jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In 1995, the loose lime layer peeled away revealing a patch of colours. Four years later, UNESCO started to unveil and conserve what remained of the murals, and train staff from the Department of Archaeology. French conservator Sabine Cotte retouched some of the murals, filled the gaps using gypsum, and applied a coating of acrylic resin on the north-wall mural for protection.It was decided that the paintings would be conserved in situ without detaching them from the walls. Following the initial treatment, the Institute of Conservation (ICON) in 2013 conducted the first investigation of the murals and found that the brick walls were first rendered with a layer of plaster of mainly ‘sheet silicates, quartz and plant fibres’ which would have an uneven texture.Then, this layer was topped with a much smoother layer of fine mud mixed with plant fibres, over which several paint layers were directly applied. Carbon black, orpiment and red ochre were the original pigments, and animal glue added with drying oil was used as a binding medium.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/250-years-of-nepals-history-through-art/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal's history through art</a>, Lisa Choegyal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131140/6372380e9c7e80680e0c7366jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>During the investigation, it was also found that several layers of overpainting had been done over the centuries, using synthetic cinnabar and ultramarine – shades not produced in the 17th century.The paintings were already in a bad shape in the 90s, with losses of mud plaster and paint layers. Some of the retouching done after its rediscovery did not hold well, as their consistency with the original materials did not match, reacting differently to the changes in humidity and temperature, and even falling out, pulling the original sections with them. Conservation efforts after the 2015 earthquake sought to prevent the paintings from further deterioration by removing the later harmful additions, cleaning, and sealing the cracks.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238119c7e80680e0c7367jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Barbara Ranki of the University of Applied Arts in Vienna arrived in Nepal two weeks ago to work on the wall. She explains that an important conservation ethic is to not introduce any new material as far as possible and stay in the same system as the original, such as using local mud as artists in Malla-era would have.“This also helps the conservators to know about the history of the paintings’ restoration methods,” Ranki says, “so it can be easily retreated in the future.”Today, the paintings look very much like a Jackson Pollock work at the outset. But one can feel a ring of almost-romanticism in the lacunae, like poetry fragments in ancient scrolls. These intervals may be appreciated wholly in their aposiopesis, or the viewer may have to exercise their imagination, fill in the gaps themselves.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238159c7e80680e0c7368jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Across the river and the city-lines, the mural in Bhaktapur is in better shape. On the walls of the 55-Window Darbar sits a celebration of colours and shapes: a vast mural spanning an entire room, casting a glorious and imposing sense of grandeur.Divided into five horizontal panels, the 18th century mural is largely intact despite the years of neglect. The palace was once used by the police too, and the room was turned into a kitchen. Few sections of the mural are still behind a thick layer of stove smoke and soot marks.Ram Govinda Shrestha of Bhaktapur Heritage Conservation points out the unique figure of Vishwaroop, the embodiment of the universe according to Hindu beliefs, with each head sporting a moustache. According to artist <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.15px;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Illustrated-history-of-chitrakars-nepal,3655" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Madan Chitrakar</a>, this is a rare iconography of the god since he is almost never shown with so much facial hair.Further, the face of the god is the image of King Bhupatindra Malla himself, and in his hands he holds the chariots of Ram and Ravan before their final battle.In the deity’s other arm sits his divine consort modelled after Bhupatindra Malla’s queen Vishwa Laxmi. On her coiffure in the painting the name ‘Shree Bhupatindra’ is clearly written.On either side of the painting, a continual set of images – bilampu, says Chitrakar – unfolds, depicting scenes from the Hindu mythology. In one corner, one can make out an image of Ganesh which signifies the start of the story. It is a vast narrative, capturing the many stages of motion and plot: the same faces appear several times in different locations, doing different things, on the same two-dimensional stretch – an art style common in the Subcontinent which feels almost like a precursor to cinema itself.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238189c7e80680e0c7369jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Chitrakar believes that the methods of its creation are similar to the paintings in Patan: the same base for the walls, the colours and different mud layers.According to Shrestha, efforts to conserve the painting began in 1998. “Initially we added foam at the back to stabilise it,” he says. “Fortunately, there was not bad damage to the painting despite the earthquakes. The painting has remained the same since the 90s.”However, among the traces of gypsum and scratch marks are cracks and fading, illegible scenes. While it is clear that the story depicted is from Krishna-leela, several individual scenes are obscure. In recent years, a small section showing a young Krishna with the gopini has been discoloured by direct sunlight.Outside, the walls of Taleju Temple are also covered in paintings, above the bullet dents and sword marks from Prithvi Narayan Shah’s invasion of Bhaktapur in 1767. They have mostly faded due to exposure to the elements but the line-works in certain sections are still conspicuous, such as the drawing of two peacock-like creatures with human heads and limbs facing each other.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372381b9c7e80680e0c736ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>These murals provide a unique look into the art of the Valley influenced by Buddhist traditions, says artist Chitrakar, and are just as important as stone sculptures and wood carvings as a part of the Valley’s cultural civilisation. Most wall-paintings in the Valley are from the Malla period.“There are a couple such paintings from the early Shah period,” he adds, “but few.”But when compared to paper or cloth for art, wall poses some challenges – portability being the obvious one. Chitrakar gives examples of large-scale wall paintings found in the Buddhist monasteries of the Valley, explaining that these murals were most likely made for meditation. “So that when one is in the room for worship, nothing else comes to mind except the image of the god before them,” he says.The Malla kings enjoyed a time of cultural prosperity which could not be replicated by the Shahs owing to relentless political tug-of-war between rival families at court. It was also a time when art was made more as an instrument of religious and spiritual expression, than to be simply admired, Chitrakar remarks.“This is not to say that the Malla era was always peaceful, that was not the case,” he says, “but the Valley’s kingdoms were wealthy, and the kings were competing with one another to build more temples and create more art.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372381e9c7e80680e0c736bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There is certainly an aspect of wanting to impress and to transcend in Bhupatindra Malla’s mural in Bhaktapur which depicts himself as the godhead, but it also comes with a desire to be one with the divine, to demonstrate one’s purported godly lineage.There is also a recently discovered mural at Hanumandhoka Darbar in Kathmandu so badly damaged that the paint layers are mostly all abraded, leaving behind glaring lesions across confused shapes. It was located during restoration work after the 2015 earthquake on the wall at Agam Chhen hidden behind another wall which had been raised some five inches from it.“It’s almost as if the painting was quietly waiting all these years,” says Chitrakar. “The details are, however, very difficult to describe because of its terrible condition.”A dancing figure in wine-red – possibly Kapalika, a follower of Shiva – can be made out holding a flag, and someone seated on a bull before him. Chitrakar believes that this painting was contemporaneous with the murals in Patan and Bhaktapur, most likely commissioned by King Pratap Malla.Back in Patan, Ranki’s team are working with fine-tipped brushes and recently reduced a new layer of lime wash. Her team works undeterred by the passing visitors who stop to watch, steal a glance at the paintings.Much has been lost to time, but the approach now is to try and preserve everything that is visible. Says Ranki: “We try to keep the object’s history intact as much as possible.”Read Also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/prehistoric-rock-painting-in-mustang,4086" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Prehistoric paintings in Mustang</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Painted walls and pieces of history

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221ba9c7e80680e0c02cfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>The first view inside the British Cemetery at Kathmandu as it looks today - the caretakers Prem and Durga Devi might ask you to sign their visitors' book. Photo: DR MARK F WATSON.</figcaption></figure>The British cemetery at Kathmandu is little known but not hard to find.Keep the imposing white sweep of the British Embassy gate on your left, and then walk past the well-guarded Indian Embassy entrance to your right. The lane shrinks dramatically between their towering walls and, if you are lucky, no passing vehicle pins you against the brickwork.Persevering on down the hill a little further than you think and avoiding a constant stream of bikes, the graveyard looms suddenly on your right. A mound of exotic trees, cultivated flowers and manicured lawns comprise this ‘corner of a foreign field’ that shelters a tantalising assortment of headstones and memorials dating back over 200 years.Once through the gate with a helpful sign beneath a friendly arch, you might encounter the conscientious caretakers Prem and Durga Devi. Lingering amongst the meticulously tended graves, the shades of people buried here begin to manifest at the edge of consciousness. ‘The laughter learnt of friends; and gentleness, in hearts at peace.’The atmosphere vibrates with the ghosts of times remembered, whilst the mind crowds with apparitions of historic figures, funerals and friends, long-stay residents and short-term visitors, whosoever fate decreed would never leave the valley of Kathmandu.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221bd9c7e80680e0c02d0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="851"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221c19c7e80680e0c02d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="926"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/250-years-of-nepals-history-through-art/">Nepal’s history through ar</a>t, Lisa ChoegyalThis haven of tidiness was not always so. As we learn from this important new book, the fate of the British cemetery has ebbed and flowed with the tide of centuries at the whim of its diplomatic custodians. Sometimes neglected and overgrown, sometimes nurtured and cared for, it has always been at the heart of the history of foreigners in Nepal – ‘A pulse in the eternal mind”.For the first time, the facts about the British cemetery and its glamorous array of inhabitants are gathered together in this comprehensive volume. The first grave dates from 1820, and I attended the most recent funeral in 2014.Elegantly written and highly readable, Andrew Hall, anthropologist and former British Ambassador to Nepal, and Mark Watson, keen historian and Himalayan botanist at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh, have collaborated with Vajra Books. Initially conceived as a modest booklet to resolve the incomplete listings and jumbled records of the historic graveyard, it later expanded to include the wider context of Nepal’s complex relationship with the outside world.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221c49c7e80680e0c02d2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="279"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221c79c7e80680e0c02d3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="229"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221ca9c7e80680e0c02d4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="137"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As might be expected, such a formidable combination of scholarship has done a very thorough job. The evolving changes to the physical site are documented with maps, drawings, paintings and letters dredged from London collections, and identities clarified that have been disrupted by earthquakes, fallen branches and general dereliction that damaged the marker stones, rendering some unreadable.Every grave in the British cemetery in Kathmandu is catalogued, but there are others further afield. The Gurkhas had burial sites in Paklihawa and Dharan,<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/father-moran-and-nepals-jesuits/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> the Jesuits</a> at Godavari, two memorial parks mark the terrible 1992 air disasters in Kakani and Lele, each facing the direction of the catastrophe, and there is even a solitary grave in the grounds of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-lovelier-spot-than-kakani/">British bungalow in Kakani</a>.We find exhaustive descriptions of the British cemetery graves, headstones, location maps, names, dates, images, stories and anecdotes, and even details of trees and shrubs that grow there; a glossary, bibliography, sources, endnotes and index; and a list of the British heads of mission assigned to Nepal, responsible for this patch of ground ‘that is for ever England … A body of England’s, breathing English air’.But not really. Of the 100 or so people laid to rest here only about 40% are British, the remaining represent at least 16 nationalities and several religions other than Christian. Their causes of death are an eye-opener into the Nepal of their lifetimes.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221cb9c7e80680e0c02d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="892"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221ce9c7e80680e0c02d6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="719"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221d29c7e80680e0c02d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="426" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Although the British were first to put down roots after the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/beginning-of-the-end-of-the-gorkha-empire/">1816 Treaty of Sugauli</a>, the truth is that over the centuries this remote Himalayan country received a wide variety of visitors from all corners of the globe and the cemetery’s eclectic occupants reflect this – missionaries, mountaineers, military, traders, adventurers, eccentrics and dreamers.The earliest grave belongs to Robert Stuart, the Assistant Resident who died suddenly one spring evening in 1820 of ‘a violent cold’. His superior, Hon Edward Gardner was devastated but had no choice but to inter him beneath the nearby hillock that the British were hastily given to bury their dead.Hardly ‘that rich earth, a richer dust concealed’ of Rupert Brooke’s iconic First World War poem <a href="https://poets.org/poem/soldier-0">The Soldier</a>, but a sandy wasteland unsuitable for cultivation, situated not far from the uninviting piece of land on the then-distant outskirts of Kathmandu that had been grudgingly granted for the British residency – now given over to the Indian mission after Independence.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221d39c7e80680e0c02d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="960"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>By 1857 the cemetery contained only three graves. The grandest monument commemorates <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3246#.YqNelI5BxpQ">Brian Hodgson</a>’s deputy, Ensign Hastings Young, aged only 20 and the first child burial, seven-year-old William Nott Nicholetts. The only official Commonwealth War Grave in Nepal, belonging to Gilbert Deatker who died in 1942, ensures a funding commitment which proved crucial to the garden’s maintenance during the leaner years of British government support. The grave diggers’ busiest period was the tourism times from the 1970s to 1990s, before mortuary freezers enabled repatriation and local cremations became more generally accepted.Some incumbents remain more mysterious than others, but the authors’ investigations have culminated in this highly readable account that spans not only the history of the British and other early foreigners in Nepal, but also curious, sad and sometimes extraordinary stories of how they met their end.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221d79c7e80680e0c02d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2499" height="3000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some of these tales are tragic and extreme. Particularly heart-breaking are the babies and children, including the infant son of Henry Ambrose Oldfield the Residency surgeon and artist dated 1861. In addition to the occupational hazard of illness, as might be expected in harsh mountain terrain, fatalities feature <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/1921-rendezvous-mallory-pumori-and-everest/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mountaineering</a>, rock falls, drownings and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2014/02/17/twin-otters-in-the-nepal-sky/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">air accidents</a>. On the back wall, a plaque remembers the New Zealand pilot of the flight that killed Sir Edmund Hillary’s wife and youngest daughter in 1975.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221da9c7e80680e0c02dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1978" height="1389"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This peaceful garden is the last resting place of a roll call of Nepal’s early tourism, conservation and development pioneers. Familiar and colourful characters who left their mark include <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-tourism-now-has-to-re-start-from-zero/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Boris Lissanevitch</a> (plus his mother, mother-in-law, wife and son), <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/remembering-des-la-at-shangrila/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Desmond Doig</a>, AV Jim Edwards, Mike Cheney, Freddie Bowles, Robert and Cecille Reiffel, Peter and Margaret Ross and many more. Unearthing some buried recollections of my own having known them all (full disclosure), I helped the ever-erudite Doctors Andrew and Mark with research, editing and proof-reading.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221dd9c7e80680e0c02dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="480" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A collaborative and diligent research effort, many have contributed to this slim volume packed with information. Dedicated to the late great Charles Allen with a foreword by current British Ambassador Nicola Pollitt, both the Nepal Britain and Britain Nepal Societies supported its publishing, along with the <a href="https://www.bacsa.org.uk">British Association for Cemetaries in South Asia</a> (BACSA), Bon Travel and Tours, Vajra Books and the personal generosity of Pratima and Prithivi Pande.My only niggle is the misleading title. This useful book reaches far beyond the confines of the British cemetery enclosure, now a hidden and forgotten island in an ocean of concrete urbanisation down that narrow Lainchaur lane – which perhaps you will be inspired to discover. By using the graveyard and the circumstances of its existence, the chapters expand to encompass the entire early history of Nepal’s convoluted interaction and engagement with outsiders and the international world.Corner of a Foreign Field: The BRITISH CEMETERY at KATHMANDU by Mark F Watson and Andrew R HallVajra Books 2022Rs2,500168 pages<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637221df9c7e80680e0c02dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2164" height="3848">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/mainly-fine-throughout-the-kingdom/">‘Mainly fine throughout the kingdom’</a>, Lisa Choegyal

Buried in history

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c0f9c7e80680e0bd471jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1091" height="818"/>In June 2019, a team from the <a href="http://narchives.gov.np" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">National Archives</a> reached Taplejung in eastern Nepal to find decaying handwritten parchments, centuries-old manuscripts, and stone inscriptions all lying abandoned.There were invaluable centuries-old lalmohar documents and deeds with official seals stacked in nooks and carnies of households, mouldy and decomposing.The initial plan for the Archives team was just to copy the text from two historic bronze bells in front of the Nageshvar Temple, but they decided to stay for three more days, digitising 77 historic documents and 95 letters.The images of those documents are now in the digital archives, even though the originals have been lost. And these were most likely just a tiny proportion of all the material still out there waiting to be discovered.“With neither the resources nor expertise, we have been unable to collect and conserve other historic documents,” admits Bishwa Nath Sitaula, mayor of Aathrai Tribeni municipality in Taplejung.The only documents in the municipality’s collection are government papers from four years ago. For anything older, one has to visit the ward or the district administration offices, where they are in no better condition.Sitaula says, “We now need a separate budget just for the conservation of the archives.”At the other end of the country in Gorkha, the situation is the same. The mayor of Gorkha Rajan Raj Panta says, “It would be a lot easier to budget and work if the responsibilities of the local governments were set out in the law itself.”According to the Archives Conservation Act 1989 and the Archives Conservation Regulations 2006, it is up to the National Archives in Kathmandu to collect and conserve documents that are 25 years and older. A bill has been prepared to amend the Act so that the responsibility may be divided among all three levels of the government, which is currently under review in Parliament.The Constitution also stipulates that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/local-government-by-the-people-for-the-people-of-the-people/">local governments </a>should keep records of their documents and artifacts which the National Archives has repeatedly asked the provinces and the municipalities to send them, but to no avail.And even as the five-year term of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-local-election-gives-power-back-to-people/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">elected officials</a> is coming to a close, no budget has been set aside for the collection and conservation of historical and archaeological archives in their respective regions.The Mayor of Rolpa’s Tribeni Rural Municipality Shanta Kumar Oli does not even have an inventory of the temples and archaeological artefacts in his region.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/adventures-of-a-lone-archivist/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Adventures of a lone archivist</a>, Alisha Sijapati<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111144/63721c139c7e80680e0bd472jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1540" height="912">To be sure, all 753 local governments in the country are in the same boat to a greater or lesser degree. The oral tradition of Nepali history and culture is rich and vibrant. But without proper archaeological evidence and documentation, the country’s heritage and history are going from existence to extinction.The National Archives wants a systematic effort with local governments to prevent further degradation and loss of historical records but it could only dispatch a single team last year for location research.In October 2021, one such team was studying and photographing some 50 documents, inscriptions and copper-plate engravings in Kakani and Bidur municipalities of Nuwakot when it got word of a few more unrecorded historical objects nearby. But there was no time and money to extend the trip.“Our limited budget is just enough to cover salaries and overheads,” laments Rajju Hada at the National Archives. “There really is no alternative to local governments taking up the responsibility.”Outgoing MP Radheshyam Adhikari says the Act should be promulgated soon and this will open the process for local governments to take charge.“But there is no need for them to sit around and wait for it to protect the archival heritage under their jurisdiction,” he adds. “Their priorities need to change from building view-towers to preserving our heritage.”Birendranagar Municipality of Karnali Province is getting its own regional archive and museum. Work began in 2016 to preserve the region’s endangered inscriptions, genealogies, copper plates and documents.Karnali is culturally, historically and anthropologically significant. It is rich in archaeological evidence since it was part of the ancient Khas kingdom, with its capital in the Sinja Valley. There in present-day Jumla is where some of the earliest written examples of the Nepali language can be found.Birendranagar’s Rs10 million project will be completed this month, after which a team of experts will be formed to inspect and study the archaeological sites in Dailekh, Achham and Jumla“I have been reaching out to the National Archives for advice and guidance,” says Arjun Shahi, chief of the Birendranagar Archive. “And we have asked the provincial government for a budget to bring in the necessary technology and human resources.”Archivist Shamik Mishra at the <a href="https://madanpuraskar.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya</a> in Kathmandu sees this as a major step, adding that studying and conserving a document in the same environment where it was produced can help preserve its intrinsic context.He says: “If the central archive collects and conserves every single record, inscription or object, it may be more difficult to recognise their original meaning and value in the future. Archiving must be decentralised.”Read also:<a href="http://www.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/05/17/documenting-loss/" target="blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Documenting Loss</a>, Stéphane HuëtAdapted from the Nepali original in Himalkhabar monthly by Ashish Dhakal.

Saving Nepal’s archives from oblivion

<figure><img width="3000" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11589c7e80680e0a9881jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>The mustard fields of Chobhar have been turned into an amusement park. All photos: SCOTT FAIIA</figcaption></figure>Nepal is known the world over for its majestic mountains and historic monuments, but for American development worker <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19735#.YX-M7FVBypo">Scott Faiia</a> there are two more reasons why Nepal is irresistible: “The people are very amiable, and they smile a lot.”Turn to any page in his picture book Changing Kathmandu and this is evident: children and the elderly are captured in a state of sincere bliss without affectations. What is more, Faiia follows the same people in the same places over the decades, as a visual record of the passage of time.  In a neighbourhood in Bhaktapur, Maiya Shahi sits in her fruit shop in her black-and-red haku patasi garb. The year is 1992, and she is turning a cotton wick in between her fingers. Faiia returns to the shop in 2009 and 2018 – besides fruits she now also sells clothing and other merchandise. Despite the intervening 26 years, the shopkeeper still looks directly at the camera with the same spontaneous smile.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/portrait-of-a-photographer-in-rural-nepal/">Portrait of a photographer in rural Nepal</a>, Monika Duepala <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d115c9c7e80680e0a9882jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11609c7e80680e0a9883jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11639c7e80680e0a9884jpeg.jpg" alt="">Change is the central theme of Faiia’s meticulous repeat photography. Ever since 1988, the former Nepal country director of Oxfam has seen the Valley transformed. Neighbourhoods have become unrecognisable, neighbours have moved on.  The undulating mustard fields of Chobhar have been turned into an amusement park. The crisp view of the Boudhanath stupa as seen from Gujeswori is now obstructed by a concrete jungle, and a layer of smog. “Life and places are not static,” he says. “But the problem with Kathmandu Valley is that the changes are unmanaged and out of order.” This is evident from the pictures of Asan road photographed in 1988, 2009 and 2018. The changes are dramatic, with the fronts of the houses dangling with mannequins, people peep out of the windows with a sense of loss.  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-nepals-history-colourful/">Making Nepal’s history colourful</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11679c7e80680e0a9885jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d116a9c7e80680e0a9886jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d116d9c7e80680e0a9887jpeg.jpg" alt="">Still, many things remain the same in this eternal city. The people Faiia follows have grown older, frailer in some cases, but still flash that happy smile. Concrete high rises have come up, but the city cores of Bhaktapur and Patan have been built back better after the 2015 earthquake. Faiia is not against development, his work documents progress as well. The enamel on a carved torana of a Ganesh temple in Patan has been removed to reveal the original texture of the wood. The Akash Bhairab temple in Indra Chok has been restored. And in the midst of it all there are always people, devotees, shoppers, children returning from school, witnesses to the transformation -- all smiling.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-past-present-and-future-in-a-photo/">Nepal’s past, present and future in a photo</a>, Bhumi Ghimiré <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11719c7e80680e0a9888jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11759c7e80680e0a9889jpeg.jpg" alt="">The enamel on a carved torana of a Ganesh temple in Patan has been removed to reveal the original texture of the wood. Meme is a resident of Bouddha, and when Faiia first photographed him looking out of his window in 1988, he was 47. The photographer went back to take pictures of him again and again in 2008, 2017 and 2018.  “When I went to see him again in 2017, he opened the door, asked me to wait, went inside and brought the picture I had taken of him in 1988,” Faiia recalls.  Each of the added years brings out in Meme a deep sense of contentment with life.  His eyes have seen everything, but they are not tired. In fact, they look beyond to the future, anticipating further transformations. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19789#.YX-e4S8w3u0">The first photographs of us</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d11789c7e80680e0a988ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151156/636d117c9c7e80680e0a988bjpeg.jpg" alt="">The Ganesh Mandir in 1991 (left) and 2009 (right).Faiia did not receive any formal photography training, and it is a personal hobby he took up as a way “to keep balance in life”. During his time in Ethiopia in the 1980s, the country was going through the horrors of a civil war and famine. He was managing food distribution for millions of internally displaced people, and Faiia lost several of his own staff.“It was very grim. Photography was a way for me to get away from the violence,” he says, “not to connect the dots in a war but to turn my attention to something else.” It was his Nikon that helped him find beauty and meaning in the world’s other trouble spots where he has served: Somalia, Sudan, Haiti. Faiia first came up with the idea to do a picture series of the same people and places of Kathmandu Valley when he was going rummaging through some old boxes of prints. “I found many old photos that I had taken in the past and the idea was born,” he says. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/photojournalism-looking-for-solutions/">Photojournalism looking for solutions</a>, Min Ratna Bajracharya

Kathmandu’s passage of time in photos

<img width="640" height="355" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18cd9c7e80680e0ac7e5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Legal theorists once consigned the idea of ‘statelessness’ to the realm of fiction, because they considered it to be impossible within the state system that emerged after World War I. Every human being was supposed to be assigned a nationality and a country to call his or her own. But the war had created many refugees, and as empires disintegrated and new nation-states adopted exclusionary nationality laws, not everyone was in fact included.The rise of fascism in the 1930s and 1940s further exposed the fallibility of this system and the ominous reality of the state’s power to exclude people or strip them of citizenship. Across Europe, citizenship-stripping went hand in hand with genocide for Jews and other minority groups. Following World War II, questions about the right to nationality, state power, and the limits of sovereignty loomed large in the development of human rights and international law. Could the states that were being created out of the independence movements and diminished European empires adopt nationality laws that excluded entire population groups? Did national governments hold the power to strip their own citizens of that status? Who was responsible for the newly stateless?These issues remain highly pertinent today. Statelessness affects at least 15 million people, and the nationality of millions more is under threat, owing to an <a href="https://undocs.org/A/HRC/38/52">escalation</a> of racially discriminatory policies and rhetoric in many countries. Nationality policies remain a favoured tool of authoritarians, who sometimes use them in tandem with mass atrocities, as in Myanmar, where the Rohingyas have been denied citizenship and <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/EN/HRBodies/HRC/Pages/NewsDetail.aspx?NewsID=23575&amp;LangID=E">subjected</a> to genocide and mass deportations to Bangladesh. Making matters worse, the Covid-19 pandemic has led to even more <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/coronavirus-fuels-fascist-politics-by-federico-finchelstein-and-jason-stanley-2020-05">xenophobic scapegoating</a> and ethno-nationalism, with political leaders like former US President Donald Trump and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán blaming migrants and refugees for spreading the coronavirus.The pandemic also reminds us of the enduring influence that nationality has over our lives. Last May, <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/filippo-grandi">Filippo Grandi</a>, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, <a href="https://www.unhcr.org/en-us/news/press/2020/5/5eb952222ec/unhcr-warns-stateless-people-risk-behind-coronavirus-response.html#:~:text=The%20right%20to%20a%20nationality,on%20policy%20and%20good%20practices.">warned</a>: “The right to a nationality is a fundamental human right and in this time of crisis it can mean the difference between life or death.” When governments prioritise citizens over others in their public-health and economic responses, the stateless suffer. Because statelessness remains a major blind spot for the institutions charged with protecting life and livelihoods, stateless people have been left <a href="https://files.institutesi.org/together_we_can_report_2021.pdf">further behind</a> than ever.Ghosts from the pastAt a time when statelessness demands urgent attention, two recent books provide important lessons about the nature of state power, international responses to national acts of exclusion, and the consequences of failure.Statelessness: A Modern History, by Mira L. Siegelberg of the University of Cambridge, and Denaturalized: How Thousands Lost Their Citizenship and Lives in Vichy France, by Claire Zalc, Director of the Institute of Modern and Contemporary History at the École Normale Supérieure, underscore both the historic scale of the problem and its grim costs. Each takes a different but equally meticulous approach to researching the history of the problem. And both explore how people have had their citizenship denied and revoked against the background of some of the most violent periods in modern history. Together, they remind us that the history of statelessness is a history of crumbling empires, world wars, genocides, and the emergence of an interstate system based on the formal equality of states.Siegelberg’s work is a sweeping survey of international legal and political thought, covering a period that includes WWI, the rise of fascism in the 1930s, the Holocaust, the postwar reconstruction of the international legal order, and the independence movements of the postwar decades. Drawing on a wide variety of archival sources – including popular fiction, case law, correspondence from stateless people to the League of Nations, works of legal and political theory, and notes from negotiations on human-rights treaties – she documents how the problem of statelessness informed theories of human rights and sovereignty.Siegelberg is concerned with how notions of statelessness developed within, and then shaped, ‘the political contours of the modern interstate order’. She reminds us that the concepts of citizenship and statelessness are not static. Rather, the meanings attached to these terms are constantly being reshaped and reconstructed by historic events and shifting power relations.While Seigelberg’s book provides a comprehensive overview of international perspectives and experiences concerning statelessness and the modern state’s power to exclude, Zalc’s work focuses on Vichy France between 1940 and 1944, when Jews and others were denaturalised in increasing numbers to serve the Nazi agenda of deportation to death camps. Her detailed investigation provides unique insights into how bureaucracies in authoritarian regimes produce and reproduce violence.“The other”Siegelberg’s Statelessness shows us that the racial hierarchies that characterised early twentieth-century citizenship regimes gave way not to equal citizenship, as was envisaged, but rather to other forms of racism in Europe. At the same time, Zalc’s book demonstrates how processes of citizenship were racialised with the help of seemingly neutral and innocuous bureaucratic categories and data collection. Under the French Third Republic, Jewishness had been considered a private matter of faith and thus went largely unrecorded by the state. But as Zalc shows in fascinating detail, the categorisations of ‘Jew’ and ‘Israelite’ were deciphered and applied retroactively to stigmatise and discriminate. With a new racialised definition of ‘Jew’, and under pressure from the occupying Nazi regime to identify, count, and denaturalise Jews according to quotas, individual citizen files were scrutinised for evidence of Jewishness.Zalc’s work provides direct evidence of how state power – and sometimes state violence – functions through the routine processes of registration, categorisation, and counting. This was how discriminatory decisions by administrators and judges, on the basis of predominantly unstated racial criteria, ultimately resulted in deportation and mass murder. Denationalisation, Zalc shows, does not only result from explicit discrimination in nationality laws, but also from the misuse of administrative and bureaucratic processes.We see this today, too. National registers or citizenship-verification processes requiring excessive documentation and paperwork are used to exclude and marginalize certain groups. A case in point is the mass disenfranchisement of Muslims carried out by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government in Assam – the <a href="https://www.fidh.org/en/region/asia/india/assam-the-biggest-mass-disenfranchisement-of-the-21stcentury">biggest exercise</a> of its kind in this century. An administrative act described by the government as ‘<a href="https://scroll.in/article/948969/the-nrc-is-a-bureaucratic-paper-monster-that-will-devour-and-divide-india">just a process</a>’ has pushed some 1.9 million people to the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/15/magazine/india-assam-muslims.html">brink of statelessness</a>, and many more will follow if this ‘process’ is rolled out nationwide.Racialised categories are also still being applied retroactively to exclude people, including through proxy indicators such as name, place of origin, or one’s status as a ‘dual national’. In Myanmar, where racial hierarchies in citizenship acquisition are explicit, registration and application processes have been fully <a href="https://files.institutesi.org/Towards_an_Inclusive_Citizenship_in_Myanmar.pdf">weaponised</a> against ethnic minorities and political opposition groups. ‘National security’Siegelberg and Zalc highlight not only the potential for bureaucratic violence through the administration of citizenship, but also how this exercise of state power is put to deliberate and targeted use. The archival material examined by Zalc offers a sampling of some of the legitimising rhetoric of the day. In Vichy France, the law on denationalisation was ‘of primordial importance’. According to a 1941 letter by Prime Minister François Darlan, it was needed to ensure that ‘the morally tainted or insufficiently assimilated elements that have been allowed to infiltrate the national community be eliminated as soon as possible’.Similarly, a recent <a href="https://cadmus.eui.eu/bitstream/handle/1814/70213/RSC%202021_23rev.pdf?sequence=4&amp;isAllowed=y">academic symposium</a> canvassing revocations of citizenship from the 1960s through the present (with contributions focusing on Syria, India, Nigeria, and Myanmar) identified a common thread: ‘those targeted for exclusion are reimagined and branded as ‘aliens’ or even ‘infiltrators,’ who the state can and must uncover.”Zalc warns that the inherent ‘malleability of the notion of national interest’ can easily be used to legitimize ‘discretionary power as being exercised in the name of the higher interests of the state’. The revocation of nationality is enjoying something of a renaissance even in some Western democracies, where it is framed as a counterterrorism measure. When stateless people appealed to the League of Nations for assistance in the years following WWI, the world’s first global-governance body received so many letters that it was forced to acknowledge the issue, and to consider whether and how it could take up the refugees’ cause. But, as Siegelberg shows, the response was muted. Firm in their resolve to protect the legitimacy of states and the international state system, legal experts at the League shied away from ‘the messier world of politics’. They preferred to situate ‘the problem of statelessness within the domain of the conflict of laws and avoided addressing it as a wider international or humanitarian crisis resulting from mass denationalisation or exclusionary national legislation’.Then came the post-WWII system, which renewed the ambition to use international law to insulate the modern world against mass atrocities, statelessness, and human-rights abuses, but has proved insufficiently robust. States have maintained and adapted their powers to exclude and denationalize their own people.This is evident even in countries that harbour no doubts about their status as liberal democracies. In 2019, the United Kingdom’s then-Home Secretary, Sajid Javid, summarily revoked the citizenship of <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/topics/c347vzp58nzt/shamima-begum-case">Shamima Begum</a>, a teenage girl who had run away from home to become the bride of an Islamic State fighter. Since this decision had clear political motives and was taken without any judicial proceedings, a court of appeal ruled in July 2020 that Begum should be allowed to return to the UK to fight the decision, but this ruling was <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-56209007">overturned</a> by the UK Supreme Court.In recent decades, important strides have been made in reframing statelessness as a human-rights issue, rather than as merely a matter of conflicting laws. Solutions have shifted from a focus on technical legal assistance (which tiptoes around the elephant in the room – state power) to approaches that challenge discrimination and states’ exclusionary powers directly.And yet, the international system still renders us powerless to temper the discretionary power of states to choose their own membership. There is no reliable, effective check against authoritarian states that set out to disenfranchise sections of their national communities. The contemporary drivers of statelessness are eerily reminiscent of the League of Nations era. Ethno-nationalism, security-related anxiety, and economic scapegoating are all contributing to processes of ‘Othering’ that, in the extreme, leave individuals or entire communities without citizenship. And, as was true of the post-WWI period, we have very few effective remedies to protect stateless people.Willful ignorance of the problem of statelessness has provided fertile ground for official abuses historically. Today, we must not look away as xenophobia is institutionalised in citizenship laws and bureaucracies. We must put aside fears of the ‘messier world of politics’ and call states to account for their exclusions – before it is too late for the excluded.© <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.project-syndicate.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Project Syndicate</a>Laura van Waas is Assistant Professor of International Law at Tilburg Law School in the Netherlands, is a founder and Co-Director of the Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion.Natalie Brinham, a PhD student at the International State Crime Initiative at Queen Mary University of London, is Senior Programme Officer at the Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion. <img width="307" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18cf9c7e80680e0ac7e6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="301" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18d19c7e80680e0ac7e7jpeg.jpg" alt="">Mira L. Siegelberg, <a href="https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674976313">Statelessness: A Modern History</a>, Harvard University Press, 2020. Claire Zalc, <a href="https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674988422">Denaturalized: How Thousands Lost their Citizenship and Lives in Vichy France</a>, Belknap Press, 2020.

The statelessness pandemic

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17ff9c7e80680e0ac79ajpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>View of the Gorkhali fort at Subathu. Photos: ALISHA SIJAPATI</figcaption></figure>Nepali Times reporter Alisha Sijapati spent a month retracing the Gorkha expansion beyond the Mahakali River more than 200 years ago to Garhwal, Kumaon and beyond. The Gorkha Empire was on a warpath, and the British East India Company saw it as a threat to its own expansionist ambitions. This five-part series looks at the bravery of the Gorkhali troops under its legendary generals to defend the newly-conquered territory, but also the historical memory among the local people of an oppressive rule.This is the third of a five-part report. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/beginning-of-the-end-of-the-gorkha-empire/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">first</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-gorkhali-defeat-at-kangra/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">second</a> episodes are in the Nepali Times archives. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/where-nepals-banner-once-waved/">fourth</a> part will appear on 16 October in this space. The road from Subathu to Jaithak in Himachal Pradesh of India will remind any Nepali of the highway from Bharatpur to Mugling. In the monsoon, there are frequent rockfalls and landslides.  This year’s monsoon saw heavier than unusual rainfall across the Himalaya, and especially here in these rugged mountains where more than 200 years ago the invading Gorkhali army was facing an imminent threat from the East India Company.The expansionist Gorkha Empire was headed for a headlong clash with the equally belligerent British who were extending their influence across India.The deep valleys are lush and green this time of year, as the rain sweeps in on the monsoon winds from the east. It was also from the east that the Gorkhalis came in the early 1800s, sweeping across 1,500km of the Himalayan foothills in a blitzkrieg. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18029c7e80680e0ac79bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It was among these mountains that the sound of cannons must have echoed, along with the battle cries, and the rivers ran red with the blood of the dead and wounded. One of the bloodiest encounters of this offensive occurred at Christmas in 1814 at Jaithak Fort, as the British launched an offensive all along the western front, the centre and east of what was then not yet Nepal. Unlike other forts, the Gorkhalis held on to Jaithak for five months, and was unconquered, until they had to give it up because of the loss of the nearby fort at Malaun.  The Empires Strike The Anglo-Gorkha war began in October 1814 when the British troops proceeded to take over Nalagarh, the present-day gateway to Himachal Pradesh. Within the next four months, the Gorkhalis had already lost Khalanga, Nalagarh, and Ramsheher passes.  The Gorkhali general Amar Singh Thapa, devastated after the defeat by the Sikhs at Kangra and the treaty with Maharaja Ranjit Singh, had moved to Arki Fort, while many Gorkhalis went on to join the Khalsa army at the Lahore camp, giving rise to the term Lahurey — which even today denotes anyone migrating abroad for work.  Amar Singh Thapa knew about the strength of the British and their mighty cannons, and he did not want to engage with the East India Company, advising restraint against any provocation. However, back in Kathmandu, the Mukhtiyar General (prime minister) Bhimsen Thapa had ambitious plans to preserve the influence he had hitherto contrived for his family and preferred assertive action against the British. <figure><img width="960" height="640" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18069c7e80680e0ac79cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>On the other hand, the East India Company, with expansionist ambitions of its own, was swiftly moving across India and took the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tales-of-courage-and-suffering/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Gorkhali advance </a>in the north as a threat. There was another reason at play as well: cotton export from India was dwindling because of the burgeoning textile industry back in England and the Company needed a trade route across the Himalaya to Tibet to access the valuable shatoosh wool (pashmina) which was prized in England. Historians say that if the British had had enough time to instigate their troops for taking over the Gorkha, they would have done it quickly and easily, considering their numerical superiority and modern weapons.The rivalry between the Gorkhalis and the East India Company actually began much earlier. The Malla kings of Kathmandu Valley in 1767, facing an imminent Gorkha invasion, sent an SOS to Calcutta for help. The British sent an expeditionary force led by Captain Kinloch which was met by the Gorkhali defenders at Sindhuli Garhi fort. Battling malaria, wild animals and the fierce Gorkhali defence, the British and their Indian fighters retreated.  In 1795 there was another dispute over the Tarai frontier lands. The British wanted to define the borders in Morang and Purnea districts but were deterred by thieves and fugitives in the area.  <img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18089c7e80680e0ac79djpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d180b9c7e80680e0ac79ejpeg.jpg" alt="">Amar Sing Thapa's residence atArki Fort. Photo: CREATIVE COMMONSIn 1804 Sano Kaji Amar Singh Thapa (not the same general in Kangra) conquered Palpa and expected to receive rents from Butwal and Gorakhpur. However, he did not know then that the Nawab of Oudh had already ceded Gorakhpur to the Company. The negotiations around the territory took a turn for the worse when the Company flatly refused it to Kathmandu. That bitterness was festering when in 1813, Major Paris Bradshaw, who joined the East India Company as Chief Commissioner, produced land documents as evidence to back the Company’s claim on the villages in the Makawanpur border and Butwal. Historians say that Bradshaw’s ‘haughty’ manners did not sit well with the Gorkhalis, and this escalated the matter further. The Gorkhalis were given until 22 April 1814 to surrender Butwal and Siuraj. On the day, the Magistrate of Gorakhpur sent 17 Companies to take possession of the land. The Gorkhalis had withdrawn since it was the malaria season. A month later, however, they returned to attack the police posts in Butwal resulting in the death of one policeman. Meanwhile, Francis Rawdon Hastings joined the East India Company in Calcutta as the new Governor-General. Hastings was a sensible man and did not want to start a full-scale war with the Gorkha Empire for a small piece of land that merely got the Company Rs15,000. But war was inevitable. A precursor to the Kumaon-Garhwal-Himachal war was that Bradshaw had occupied 22 villages in Saran and captured a Gorkha police post. Following this, when Chandra Shekhar Upadhaya, an agent from Kathmandu was sent for diplomatic negotiations, the Company announced it did not want any more talk.  Meanwhile, in the territory newly conquered by the Gorkhalis in Garhwal, General Amar Singh Thapa claimed Sirmaur and Hindur. British Gen David Ochterlony, who was then based in Ludhiana countered the claim. Thapa wrote to Kathmandu and was eventually successful in invalidating Ochterlony’s claims. The failure to secure Sirhind for the Empire and the Company greatly embittered Ochterlony towards Amar Singh Thapa. According to Jyoti Thapa Mani, the author of the book <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2016/03/22/the-sharp-edge-of-history/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Khukri Braves</a>,  Ochterlony and Amar Singh Thapa were rather frenemies. To keep an eye on each other, these two opposing generals even made their sons mit friends.  “Both Ochterlony and Thapa understood each other’s expansionist ambitions and loyalties to their respective countries,” Thapa Mani says. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/diary-of-a-nepali-soldier-in-france/">Diary of a Nepali soldier in France</a>, Shree Bhakta Khanal <figure><img width="2011" height="1323" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d180f9c7e80680e0ac79fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Despite his reluctance to go to war with the British, Amar Singh Thapa knew that the war with the East India Company was inescapable. The Gorkhali’s ties with the Khalsa army of Punjab was weakening after the Sikhs were subdued with the Treaty of Perpetual Friendship with the Company. Amar Singh Thapa knew that a war would come at a hefty price for the over-extended Gorkhalis.  Thapa tried to send word to Lord Hastings in Calcutta but failed. He even tried to get support from Qing rulers of China and the Sikhs, but in vain. The Peshwas of Maratha, who were also fighting the British, were also approached.  In a letter to General Ochterlony, Amar Singh Thapa wrote: ‘Otherwise by favour of Gods, the troops of the Gorkhas, resembling the waves of the ocean… will make necessary preparations to prevent the usurpation of any one place which has been in their possession for years past, and the flame of agitation will daily increase.’ On 1 November 1814 Lord Hastings formally declared war on the Gorkha kingdom, but he permitted the army to strike as they saw fit as soon as the monsoon ended. He had to his favour also the intensified infighting in the royal court in Kathmandu, and the tension between Bhimsen Thapa and Amar Singh Thapa was already at a tipping point. The East India Company was looking to redeem itself as the bravest warriors since Captain Kinloch defeat at Sindhuli, and the second time around, on top of more advanced artillery, Hastings was also more prepared. By February 1815, the East India Company had already placed four points of attack on the Gorkhas -- Khalanga, Saran, Jitgarh, and Malaun Fort. By the end of the first month of the war, the Gorkhali had already surrendered Nalagarh Fort to the East India Company, and by the end of November Khalanga in Dehradun too was lost. The British had overwhelming numbers and mountain cannons that could blast the Gorkhali forts.The forts did not just have the warriors in them, but the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lest-we-forget/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Gorkhali troops </a>had brought along their wives and children as well who would rain boulders down from the ramparts at the British. These families bore the brunt of the Company’s siege of the forts and the battles to conquer them.In November Amar Singh Thapa moved to Ramshehar Fort. Then in January he again moved his base to Malaun, where winding roads isolated the fort. He then advised his son, Ranajor Singh Thapa to move his base from Nahan to Jaithak, 92km north-west of Malaun.The Assault at JaithakJaithak Fort sits atop a steep hill and even today, with one wrong move on the narrow trail, a visitor can fall into the ravine below. Historians remark at how only the nimble-footed Gorkhalis knew their way around the terrain and to imagine the British troops trying to scale this perilous hillside is truly astounding. The British had no option but to try and build roads to reach from the nearby mountain peaks. Due to its geographical advantage, Ranjor Singh Thapa held on to the fort even after five months of the British siege. <figure><img width="960" height="640" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18129c7e80680e0ac7a0jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The fort had earlier served as a garrison for ammunition and a lookout post, and Amar Singh Thapa had seen strategic advantage in Jaithak Fort, since he was well aware that the topography would make it difficult for the British troops.Gen Ochterlony, on the other hand, was seeking every vulnerable aspect of the Gorkhalis to strike. He called Major-General Gabriel Martindell from Kanpur to attack the Jaithak troops with all the might of his force. Martindell soon arrived and set his camp close to Nahan and was joined by Captain Ludlow who had just won a war in Khalanga. The battle for Jaithak Fort took place in December during a bitter Himalayan winter. It rained, it snowed, and the Gorkha soldiers were already weak from hunger and thirst. The soldiers also had to protect and care for their families inside the fort. The campaign was fierce, and eventually there were only 500 Gorkhali soldiers against thousands of British troops. Even then, the Company could not take over the fort.Nevertheless, while Ranjore Singh Thapa still held on to Jaithak, the Gorkhalis had already lost Malaun where Ochterlony and Amar Singh Thapa signed a treaty on 15 May 1815. As per the agreement, the Jaithak Fort was surrendered to the Company – even though it had not actually been conquered.  Jaithak todayTwo centuries later, these scenic mountains of Himachal Pradesh are serene — there is little to remind us of the blood that was shed here in the clash of empires. Even though the tales of bravery from the battles survive in lore, folk songs and history textbooks in present-day Nepal, few of the descendants of the Gorkhalis who remain here in India remember that history. One person trying to change that is a descendant of the rulers of Sirmaur, Ajay Bahadur Singh, who along with his son, has bought a section of the Jaithak Fort. He takes pride in his connection to the Gorkhalis, some of whom had joined the British even before the war ended in 1816. There is a sign outside the Fort that says: ‘Jaithak Fort is a private property of Kunwar Ajay Bahadur Singh and outsiders needed permission to trespass the property.’ Ajay Bahadur Singh is a descendant of the former royal clan of Sirmaur in Himachal Pradesh and takes immense pride in being a part of the Gorkha heritage. Sitting comfortably in his centuries-old palace in Nahan, Ajay Bahadur Singh tells us proudly that the site is called Ranjore Palace — named after the Gorkhali commander Ranjore Singh Thapa, son of Gen Amar Singh Thapa. Ajay Bahadur Singh has even named his son Balbhadra, after the great Gorkhali warrior Balbhadra Kunwar, who after the Khalanga battle, came to Jaithak. He also fought the British in Nalapani.  Balbhadra Kunwar later joined the army of Punjab’s king Ranjit Singh and was killed in a battle against the Afghan in 1823, in present-day Pakistan.  <figure><img width="500" height="375" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18159c7e80680e0ac7a1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Although not a Gorkhali by lineage, Ajay Bahadur Singh has always been a fan of the brave fighters from the east, whose valour and loyalty has stood the test of time. Every now and then, locals dig up 200-year-old skeletons and skulls from below the ground, and some of them even have rusted khukris next to them.  Ajay Bahadur Singh is a former legislator from the Himachal Pradesh assembly, and with his son Balbhadra has also set up a guest house in a section of the Jaithak Fort. The rest of the fort is in ruins and overgrown with trees.    “Neither the government of India nor Nepal has taken any heed or consideration in the restitution of these buildings,” Ajay Bahadur Singh. “If forts in Rajasthan can be turned into resorts, and even Kangra Fort is preserved by the Archeological Survey of India, why are the other Gorkhali forts in such a dilapidated state?” The former Chief Minister of Himachal Pradesh, Vir Bhadra Singh, who was from Rampur Busher, had started to restore the old Gorkha forts, but he died this year. Even more than Jaithak, the Malaun Fort six hours drive away held a greater strategic significance during the Anglo-Gorkha War. That is the fort where Amar Singh Thapa was fighting the most crucial battle against the Company while his son Ranjore was holding out in Jaithak in the winter of 1814.In the next episode in this series, I will travel on to Malaun the Gorkhali fort that saw one of the fiercest and longest sieges by the Company. The fall of Malaun was decisive and led to the eventual signing of the Sugauli Treaty, under which the Gorkha Empire had to cede all territory to the west of the Mahakali River and east of the Mechi River.

The start of the Anglo-Gorkha war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06b99c7e80680e0a5f7djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1166" height="1500"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>With this contribution, I am beginning a monthly column in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali Times</a> and <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Himal Khabar</a> in which I will select one piece of contemporary Nepali art from the collection of M<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-first-private-art-museum/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-first-private-art-museum/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGPiJ36DWz2lXzMRs8K4Qx8kmQqYA">oNA (Museum of Nepali Art)</a>, and try to explain the technique and medium used, the message being communicated, as well as the significance it holds in the country’s cultural history.There are rare moments in the lives of great artists, when they create something for themselves and no one else. In those works of art they give us a glimpse of their soul, a secret sentiment not to be shared. An exposé of inner romanticism.Self-portraits can be made during important milestones in an artist’s life, an illustration of an obstacle overcome, a portrayal of a life-altering occurrence, an interpretation of a discrete romantic escapade, a visual representation of a magical encounter.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lain-singh-bangdels-legacy-lives-on/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lain-singh-bangdels-legacy-lives-on/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHJ7xIAZujMhQFHYUQVRJe326I6EA">Lain Singh Bangdel</a>’s self-portrait from 1989 represents such a work. It is a ‘sigh’ that evokes a sense of fulfilled bliss in the artist’s life.Bangdel deserves this attention, recognition of his struggle and successful life, which resonated with inspiration and motivation long after his death in 2002.Bangdel was the founder of modern and contemporary Nepali art. His authoritative and exemplary books explored the realisation and preservation of Nepali culture, introducing it to the international art arena. His contemporary and abstract works are now revered across the world, and depict nature and creation in one way or another.But this particular self-portrait stands apart. In it, Bangdel paints himself with contended closed eyes, an inconspicuous smile, a rough and incomplete brush stroke where his ear should be, a face expressing satiated relief about something, an assertive yet deferential posture, an unpretentious shoulder with a shawl of honour draped around it. The painting is finished with confident last strokes.And a frame, an ordinary frame that he painted for himself as a laurel as if to encase his accomplished self. The self-portrait speaks of something beyond that which the eyes can see. It may be Bangdel’s reflection of himself at his best.Self-portraits by famous international artists capture a moment of rapture, a reminder of an emotion, of a particular sensation, never to be forgotten or revealed, but an aide-mémoire to the self.A self-portrait is a maze of discoveries. The viewer has to unravel the artists’ secrets layer by layer, see, feel and understand. It is a message from the past, by a person who has departed, containing clues for future generations about the lived life of an artist.Everyone’s life is filled with expectations, successes, failures, joys and sorrows. When we learn and understand from each other, we develop empathy. In a life tethered to obligations and responsibilities, it seems impossible to break away from every day struggles.However, there are a few who have had transcendent experiences, and it is through such stories that we can better ourselves, and understand ourselves better.Bangdel painted his self-portrait 31 years ago at a time when he felt freedom, responsibilities had been released from his shoulders with his retirement. He was finally liberated from relentless guidance, the bureaucracy, and he felt overwhelming gratitude to the monarch who had invited him to Nepal.Bangdel always lived life on his own terms, whether struggling as an artist in Paris, or as a brave pioneer of a new genre of art in a conservative Nepal of the 1960s.His biography <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10689#.YOpzVy8RoWp" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D10689%23.YOpzVy8RoWp&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFOgc6r723v4bIRF5RdIBUZFrwZvg">Against the Current</a> by Don Messerschmidt and his daughter, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=730#.YOpzmi8RoWo" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D730%23.YOpzmi8RoWo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHMRrgr11bQoe_KZOwx_tDrWpYsDA">Dina</a>, cites a conversation between Bangdel and King Mahendra: ‘Bangdel, upon being asked to settle in Nepal and lead the Royal Nepal Academy, replies with utmost modesty, “Nepal is an agricultural country, an artist like me does not have much to do”.’Bangdel headed the Royal Nepal Academy from 1972 to 1989, creating and curating many artworks and writing many historically significant books. He made this self-portrait the year he retired, and reveals his sigh of relief from all the burden and responsibilities. his particular self-portrait Bangdel is on display at MoNA.Looking at Bangdel’s paintings, one sees a distinct boundary before and after 1989, and we can assume that the artist could finally live life for himself, and for his art.Rajan Sakya is the founder and director of MoNA (Museum of Nepali Art) and also the CEO of KGH Group. This column, For Art's Sake, will appear in Nepali Times every month.<h2>Lain Singh Bangdel 1919-2002</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151112/636d06bd9c7e80680e0a5f7ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1674" height="1183"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Lain Singh Bangdel was born in 1919 near Darjeeling, and grew up drawing images of gods and goddesses all over the walls of his home. He was impressed from an early age with the paintings he saw in the house of his tree planter father’s British employer.It was inevitable that Bangdel should join Calcutta Arts College in 1939. It was there that he met Indian filmmaker <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0006249/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0006249/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFu1x6AGBqEldV5BFt9m3FaXVo-tw">Satyajit Ray</a>, and the two became lifelong friends.In 1952, Bangdel enrolled at the French National Art School in Paris where he was influenced by the works of Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque. He was so attached to Laxmi Prasad Devkota’s Muna Madan that he used the epic as a theme for many of his impressionistic works.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5250#.X6VWdC8RoWp" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D5250%23.X6VWdC8RoWp&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHKrYAylonUw_7YrXqHWmH0UMCT3A">Bangdel died in October 2002</a> in Lalitpur at age 83. Lain Singh Bandgel was not just a painter, he was also an established writer, art historian and a passionate art teacher. His daughter <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=730#.X6QrN_MzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D730%23.X6QrN_MzbIU&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1626071179542000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHn9QIPR-0DUUfLG4TnAKXC4cagCg">Dina Bangdel </a>carried forward his legacy until her own untimely death in 2017.

Rajan Sakya

Lain Singh Bangdel’s 'Sigh'

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111152/636b86629c7e80680e06784fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1778" height="1000"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>We use a magnetometer for the geophysical survey of Tilaurakot which allows it to ‘see’ bricks under the ground. Burnt brick walls under the surface are more magnetic, so we can excavate only the necessary areas.In the past, there was a belief that ‘all archaeology is destruction’ because we had to physically excavate the land, and in doing so we were actually destroying the site. The magnetometer is a better tool to quickly locate historical evidence without having to excavate anything.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/buddhas-birthday-in-his-birthplace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kapilvastu-Tilaurakot</a> is the most well preserved archaeological site in South Asia, and is 2,700 years old. The eastern part lies unused and untouched by agriculture due to the area being naturally elevated, and quite densely forested in the past.There are still jackals, jungle cats, and wildlife here, making this a mini nature reserve. We need to preserve Tilaurakot’s archaeological and historical value, but also its environment. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/u-thant-kenzo-tange-and-the-buddhas-birthplace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kapilvastu</a> is just not an ancient city, it is a sacred region as well.The Eastern Gate of the site is where Siddhartha Gautam left his family at age 29 to seek enlightenment two-and-half millennia ago. It is one of five to six gates around the city, which was three towns and three small settlements within the site.We know that the city was abandoned, so the buildings are now very close to the surface. So are the ancient pathways that wind through the city. The increasing number of pilgrims had begun to wear away the archaeology on the surface, so we built a wooden platform over the ancient brick path. The planks serve not only to give visitors an idea of the grid plan of the city, but also to protect the site from wear.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111152/636b86659c7e80680e067850jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1150" height="876"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The road over which the wooden planks now sit were 10m wide, with a long line of buildings on either side — shops on the front, and courtyard houses behind.Visitors and pilgrims expect ancient Kapilvastu to have been a grand city with high walls, and domes, turrets and marble towers. The historic reality, however, is that the floors and walls of these buildings are mud, the foundations are brick, and the roofs are thatch, much like today’s Tharu villages.However, we found that the palatial structure located at the highest point within the site, was fortified by 6m high walls made from rammed earth, inside which a forecourt led to a gate where we found evidence of huge set of bricks on either side for a guard post.When the Chinese pilgrims visited this region during the 1st century CE, they described it as a largely abandoned city where the walls were still strong. These structures are quadrangular, with open courtyards, and are normally interpreted as monastic. However, some courtyard buildings on the site were built later on top of the fortification wall.We also found a large square area rich in magnetism, which tells us that there was a water tank. This is striking, because there are no previously known examples of civic architecture or infrastructure in South Asia during the 3rd century BCE.When we first started excavating in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-buddha-was-born-in-lumbini/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kapilvastu</a>, what struck me the most was the material culture — the pottery, coins, terra cotta objects — which I thought would be remarkably different from excavations in Hastinapur, Taxila, and elsewhere.We have unearthed coins from the 3rd century CE from Ayodhya on the site. There is evidence of diplomatic and commercial links in the form of way-stations, fortified enclosures, and wells between 13-15km apart on the same alignment as the present route from Lumbini to Tilaurakot.We have this amazing mosaic of urban forms developing from Gandhara all the way down to Sri Lanka, which tells us that South Asia was part of a unified urban growth. This supports the existence of cultural corridors for the exchange of ideas, artists, craftspeople, goods, and faith. The notion that areas further out from the Ganges were slightly slower to develop is not the case.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111152/636b86689c7e80680e067851jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1328" height="888"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The abandonment of this city marks a point in which it changed from deep conglomeration of communities within walls of a city to a more dispersed de-urbanisation. This corresponds to most settlements during the early historic period where city forms were lost, leading to feudalism.To try to bring Kapilvastu-Tilaurakot alive through geophysical surveys in the absence of large excavation sites is a significant challenge. Archaeological interpretation is moving away from that view of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6366#.YKzGMC2B0b0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kapilvastu</a> as a city of opulence to an understanding that in the early historic period, this was one of the most developed cities, but it was a place with timber fences and thatched roofs, and mud roads.It is always a privilege when you see Buddhist pilgrims surrounding an excavation trench, and witness their devotion. This gives us a responsibility to ensure that sites like this are protected and interpreted.Robin Coningham is a British archaeologist and academic, who led the excavation of the Maya Devi Temple in Lumbini. He is the author of The Archaeology of South Asia: From the Indus to Asoka, c6, 500BCE-200CE. From an interview with Kanak Mani Dixit in Sago Samaj tv magazine program.

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