A local Gandarva plays the sarangi in Pokhara.
POKHARA, NEPAL – Karna Gandarva, 56, takes off his faded woolen cap and puts on a dhaka topi, the traditional headdress for Nepali men. He hangs up his shabby jacket and mismatched cardigan and trousers and cloaks himself in a smartly pressed daruwa suruwal, the traditional Nepali outfit. Then he picks up his sarangi, a four-string, fiddle-like instrument played with a bow, which was handed down to him by his ancestors, and is ready for the night's performance.
He lowers his lashes, and as the first strains of music leave his sarangi, a sense of calm settles over his face. This is a good night for Karna Gandarva. But playing his sarangi these days is a rare treat for him.
Karna Gandarva, the head of a family of nine, has been unemployed for more than 15 years because of a decline in demand for traditional Nepali musicians. When he was young, he thrived in his craft. As a result, he did not attend school and is illiterate so he says he can’t find other work.
Throughout the day, he wanders around his village playing the sarangi and singing songs in hopes of earning something to support his family. Tonight, the government hired him to play, but that doesn’t happen often or for many fellow musicians. He says he rarely gets the opportunity to perform at an event like this, and even when he does, he doesn't get paid much. Mostly, he relies on tips from the audience.
The decline in demand for traditional music has also meant the decline of his community, the Gandarvas, who have always made a living by sharing their songs.
Before the development of postal networks, telephones, radios and televisions, the Gandarvas, a caste of occupational musicians in Nepal, traveled from village to village, singing about everything from legendary heroes and ongoing battles to tales of what they saw on their journeys and the lives of the people they encountered on their way. Today, the Gandarvas lament that they can no longer make a living by singing songs and playing the sarangi as their ancestors did.
Karna Gandarva resides with 65 Gandarva families, who all share the last name Gandarva, in Batulechaur, a village nine miles from Pokhara, a popular tourist city in central Nepal. There are currently 6,800 Gandarvas in Nepal, according to the country’s most recent census in 2001. This vibrant community, which once played a key role in society, is now in crisis as incomes dwindle, younger generations forsake the musical tradition and the government lacks the resources to help preserve their culture.
Karna Gandarva was just 5 when he first learned to play the sarangi from his grandfather. The childhood memory is still fresh in his mind.
“My grandfather used to hold my hand and take me from village to village playing the sarangi, singing songs and earning money,” he says. “Back then, we could earn our living just by singing songs and playing the sarangis, but now this is impossible.”
When he was young, he says he would single-handedly earn 1,500 rupees, $20 USD, to 2,500 rupees, $35 USD, per month by playing the sarangi and singing songs. Now, he says the total earnings of his house amount to only 2,500 rupees, $35 USD, per month.
“Since the earning does not amount to much these days, no one wants to spend their time learning [the] sarangi,” he says.
All the male members of his family know how to play the sarangi, but they say they can’t make enough to play it for a living. Karna Gandarva’s eldest son, Yogendra Gandarva, once followed in his father's footsteps playing the sarangi on the streets of Pokhara, but he earned 400 to 500 rupees, less than $7 USD, per month. Unable to live on the meager income, he quit.
“My father had encouraged me to play the sarangi ever since I was little, so I started playing as a means of income,” he says. “But the money was not enough to look after my family. Therefore, I decided to become a security guard at the hospital, and now I earn around 1,200 rupees, about $16 USD, per month.”
Karna Gandarva’s other son is also a security guard at the nearby hospital, and his daughters work at home. His wife runs a fruit stall in Pokhara.
Karna Gandarva says that musicians also try to make money by selling authentic sarangis to tourists and playing cheaper versions themselves.
Sarangis are made from a single piece of seasoned tun wood, locally known as khiro. They carve a neck from the wood and hollow out the body. The strings are made from sheep intestine.
Traditionally, people here gave sheep intestines from animals sacrificed during major festivals like Dashain, to the Gandarvas, who were known as beggars. The Gandarvas left the intestine in a pot for days until the meat putrefied. When they finally pulled it out, only the fine nerves of the intestine were left behind. Those nerves were then woven into strings, which they say produced a fine, quality sound.
“We work hard at making the original sarangis with the genuine sheep intestine strings,” Karna Gandarva says. “Since we get [a] good amount of money for these, we sell them to the tourists for 5,000 rupees [$70 USD] to 7,500 rupees [$100 USD]. And for ourselves, we buy a duplicate one made, which cost[s] less at 1,000 rupees [$13 USD] to 1,500 rupees [$20 USD]. We do this to save money and see to our basic needs.”
Despite the quality of the instrument, Karna Gandarva says the younger Gandarva generation is not keen on carrying on the tradition. He says they would rather play modern, Western instruments.
“My grandson refuses to play the sarangi because he is more interested in drums and guitars, ” he says.
Khem Bahadur Gandarva has a similar story to share. At 76, he is the oldest member of the Gandarvas in Batulechaur. Like Karna Gandarva, he learned to sing and play the instrument from his forefathers.
“Those were the days when I used to run away from home to Pokhara to perform in front of the tourists when I was just 18,” he says fondly. “My mother would come looking for me and drag me home.”
Now life is very different for him. He taught his sons to play the instrument, but none of them continued with the craft.
“I don’t have time to play the instrument because the income is meager,” says Raja Ram Gandarva, a young member of the Gandarva community. “So I prefer other professions to this one.”
Many local youth say they even refuse to identify themselves as Gandarva.
“The cultural myth says that we are destined to play, beg and earn,” Raja Ram Gandarva says. “I don’t like the idea. When I was in school, my friends teased me because I am from this community. I am ashamed when people ask me which community I belong to, so I usually hide my true identity.”
Most believe they are destined to this livelihood based on an ancient myth. Khem Bahadur Gandarva says that 1,000 years ago, a Gandarva saint lived in a dense forest, where he meditated with other saints. One day, he impregnated a girl just by looking at her. Months later, when he went to visit the baby, he missed a ritual with the other saints and they forgot to leave food for him when they distributed it after the ritual.
“When the Gandarva saint returned, he had to ask the other saints for food,” Khem Bahadur Gandarva says. “It is said that from then on, the Gandarva saint was compelled to beg for food. Thus, his future generations were regarded as Gandarvas who had to roam around and ask for food from others.”
The Gandarvas also belong to the Dalit caste, a socially and economically disadvantaged group in Nepal that has traditionally been considered “untouchable.” Some prefer to change their last names to avoid discrimination from other communities.
“We are teased by the people as the community who sing songs to earn their living,” says Yogen Gayak, who changed his last name from Gandarva to Gayak, which translates to “singer” in Nepali. “So, we change our last name when we get our citizenship certificate.”
Khem Bahadur Gandarva objects to the idea of changing their last name.
“I don’t understand why the youth run away from reality,” he says. “They are weak. They should fight for equal rights rather than run away from their true identity.”
He says he has been trying to get the government’s attention to help preserve the Gandarvas’ precarious identity.
Balaram Gayak, president of the Nepal Gandarva Community Development Centre, NGCDC, a local body in Pokhara that has been working for the welfare of the Gandarvas since 2006, says that the federal government should do more to involve the Gandarva community in Tourism Year 2011, a national plan to attract tourists this year.
“The famous song ‘Resham Firiri,’ which is a favorite among the tourists who visit Nepal, was sung by a member of the Gandarva community,” he says. “Several tourists identify Nepal with this song, and yet the government has taken no initiative for the participation of the Gandarva community in the Tourism Year 2011.”
Karna Gandarva says that the Nepal Tourism Board has hired him and his team of five musicians to play the sarangi and sing songs in the streets of Pokhara one evening per week during the music street program it organized to entertain tourists during Tourism Year 2011.
But Balaram Gayak says it’s not enough.
“Giving opportunity to a few selected people will not help to solve the problem faced by the larger Gandarva community,” he says.
Kishore Thapa, Ministry of Tourism secretary, explains that resources are limited and, consequently, assistance to Gandarvas is also limited.
“We had received limited budget for the Tourism Year,” he says. “Therefore, it is difficult to provide opportunities to every group of people who want to be a part of Nepal Tourism Year 2011. As for the Gandarva community, a small step has been initiated by the Nepal Tourism Board. We will surely bring other projects in the future.”
Balaram Gayak says that even those who were once prominent singers in Nepal and worked for the government’s cultural programs have not been adequately provided for.
“They have been ignored, and this has further deteriorated morale amongst the community,” he says.
Khem Bahadur Gandarva says he is one of these performers.
“In 1960, I went to China as part of the Nepali cultural team to perform in front of Mao [Tse-tung],” he says. “I have taught more than 400 people how to play the sarangi at the capital city of Nepal and have worked at the Nepal Academy [the national institution for literature, culture and art] for three years.”
But he says his government no longer needs him.
“I gave my heydays for my country to help showcase a part of our culture, but in my old age it seems that my country has forsaken me,” he says as tears fill his eyes.
He softly sings a song of lament: “Dhani le paye dhana ko thupro. Garib lai chai rina ko bharr.” It translates to: “The rich receive more riches. The poor receive the burden of debt.”
Despite these hardships, some Gandarvas are still carrying on the tradition, and a few have even enjoyed successful careers and relative fame.
Rubin Gandarva, a youth from the Gandarva community, sings satirical songs and plays the sarangi. He was popular during the People’s Movement of 2006, which started a decade-long civil war that overthrew the monarchy. The impact his songs and sarangi tunes had in rallying people to protest against the monarchy was so great that the police even arrested him for inciting protests.
“Despite having to go through hard times in those days, I continued to sing the songs bravely,” he says. “I was singing for my country, but especially for my community, the Gandarvas.”
After the monarchy was toppled, he received a scholarship of 5,000 rupees, about $70 USD, per month from Nepal’s new government to pursue his study of music.
“I want to set an example for all Gandarvas to show that there are still opportunities to perform and let people know about our community and culture,” he says. “I am lucky, as I get invited to perform in programs by many prominent people, but there are still many unexplored talents within the Gandarva community.”
Balaram Gayak says that the NGCDC is trying to develop the musical talent of young Gandarvas.
“We have a music school where children are taught how to play the sarangi by an expert sarangi player of our village, Dhan Bahadur Gandarva, so that the new generations don’t hesitate to accept their culture and tradition,” Balaram Gayak says.
Dhan Bahadur Gandarva says the local Pokhara organization pays him to give free music lessons to about 20 students a day.
“I hope the boys I have taught will grow up to be prominent singers and sarangi players, not only in Nepal, but throughout the world,” says Dhan Bahadur Gandarva, smiling as he stands in a room of medals and certificates that he has won throughout the years. “I am glad that I can contribute in some way to preserve my culture and tradition.”
