Source:
http://www.kantipuronline.com/columns.php?&nid=66471 ********************
Nepal in Our Literature
After 1990, the field of literature widened suddenly, unexpectedly, and what started as a babble of people’s self-expression has grown steadily to a cacophonous, near-raucous din as just about everyone – exuberantly – steps up to have his or her say.
By Manjushree Thapa
Now and again, one hears in Nepal’s lettered circles that – as in Eastern Europe – our literature used to be better under a closed, repressive polity than it has been in an open democracy: the twin challenges of overcoming self-censorship and evading externally imposed censorship gave our stories and poems an artfulness that is lacking in today’s literature, it is said.
Perhaps it was simply easier, under the Panchayat, to know who the important writers and poets were than it has been since 1990.
To begin with, there were fewer litterateurs then, composed of a group of urban Bahun men, some Chettri and Newar men, some Bahun, Chettri and Newar women, followed – very distantly – by everyone else. There were broadly two kinds of litterateurs: state apologists such as royal family members and their coterie, who helped to uphold Panchayat myths, and dissidents. Among the dissidents, the ‘democrats’ wrote, sometimes cryptically, of freedom, and the ‘progressives’ wrote more openly in favour of egalitarianism. The dialectics of feudalism vs. egalitarian pluralism more or less defined the terms of the literary debate. Though as a rule they were not wealthy, our writers and poets constituted the cultural elite: they wielded power via language, and though they were not widely read (who could be, in a country with such a low literacy rate?) their hold on the elite imaginary was immense.
After 1990, the field of literature widened suddenly, unexpectedly, and what started as a babble of people’s self-expression has grown steadily to a cacophonous, near-raucous din as just about everyone – exuberantly – steps up to have his or her say. Today, almost every literate Nepali writes stories or poems (and almost every non-literature Nepali is a storehouse of colourful stories and evocative turns of phrases). What is more, many are being published – by their wives, family and friends, and also by the few established publishing houses. Not only has there been no censorship, there has been hardly any editing on the books now cluttering the marketplace. Never before in the history of Nepal has there been such direct, raw expression in our stories and poems. Never before have Nepalis en masse been able to enter the design of Nepal’s literature.
The great democratising of the literary field has diversified the literary debate, offering many simultaneous debates in the place of one overarching one– though, arguably, the dialectics of feudalism vs. egalitarian pluralism still underlies most debates. Whereas we used to have a few elite men bemoaning women’s misfortunes, we now have women from all walks of life writing about their struggles, rebellions and victories. Whereas we used to have a few elite men writing about the ills of caste discrimination, we now have writers of the Dalit caste asserting the movements of desire through all of humanity. Whereas we used to have literature only in the Nepali language, we now have literature in the people’s tongues: Nepal-bhasa, various Rai dialects, Tharu, Maithili, Bhojpuri…. We have stories and poems about all parts of the country written by people who live in those parts. We – finally, one should say – have Nepal in our literature.
It is natural to find this multitude confusing, as our ‘great writers’ are now on level grounds with unknown voices from the hinterlands, and our ‘high art’ is in a thicket of mass expression. The perceived ‘artlessness’ of today’s literature is to do with the difficulty of separating the good from the mediocre – in such a horde. It finds a parallel in the seeming lack of finesse in post-1990 politics, perhaps. Yet the most compelling and important attribute of democratic representation – be it literary or political – is its authenticity, its undeniable claim to speak truly for the people. A little inelegance is a very small price to pay for such authenticity. And the inelegance does pass. Many people take up literature, as they do politics, for the quick prestige and self-importance of calling oneself a writer (or a politician). But it is the practitioners who persevere over time, honing their craft in the open field of democracy, who eventually rise to become the voices of the times.
Of course it takes democratic institutions, and not just a few talented individuals, to make this happen. It has been fifteen years of such institutions forming and sometimes collapsing – literary journals, unions, groups, movements. And what we have, now, are individual writers and poets rising from the babble to become the voices of our times. Bimal Nibha, Ahuti, Shrawan Mukarung….
I would say that it would be a pity if this openness were to be put to an end through a return to a regressive, closed society…except I do not think this can happen. Nepalis are generally frank: though in Panchayat times the polity did keep us from expressing ourselves bluntly, it was always possible to discern, through layers of politeness or evasion, what people really thought. Since democracy it has been impossible to keep people from speaking their minds. Today, our literature indicates the way we are heading: straight towards egalitarian pluralism. Pity the fools who think they can block the way.
