Ayush Shrestha: The new kid in town

Photo courtesy: Ayush Shrestha

When a friend forwarded me Ayush Shrestha’s music on Reverbnation, I wasn’t very keen on listening — I was having a busy day and the slow  Internet connection was certainly not prompting this impatient guy to just listen to the set of songs smoothly. But there were two things that grabbed my attention. One, he performed at Blue Frog and two, there was this only Nepali song, the title of which actually generated some curiosity.

Having seen some really good performances at Blue Frog while living in Mumbai and considering the artists they usually bring, I thought it was great for a young Nepali singer/songwriter to perform there. And despite the annoyingly slow connection, I managed to listen to all the songs. By the end of it, I was playing the songs on repeat.

I’m not sure when was the last time a Nepali artist really excited me. Maybe it was Yak Attack and then Diwas Gurung.

Diwas is another talented Nepali artist based in the US. And luckily, though I was living in London, I was able to see him release his first album in Kathmandu last summer and also see him perform. I also saw Yak Attack perform in London.

Back to Ayush.

Having listened to his music on repeat, I just thought to contact him for an interview. Random searches on Google failed, but Facebook was helpful, thanks to all the common friends on the social networking site which makes the search easier. And I was lucky enough to get back a response.

It was even better to find that he was in Nepal and would be performing in Kathmandu soon. Everything seemed to be in place.

So finally met this talented singer/songwriter, had a good chat about his music career, which was in fact pretty interesting too. And finally within a day’s time, I was done writing the story and mixing the audio of that interview.

Now I have another artist to add to my music collection. Hopefully, in future I’ll just bump into more local music artists who are good and at the same time fulfills my musical appetite too.

Read the story here 

Fighting human trade

Bijaya Limbu (in green) was rescued from an Indian circus. Along with other young Nepalis, who were once trafficked, Limbu is now a part of Circus Kathmandu, Nepal’s first professional circus troupe.

As I was watching “The Fighters,” CNN Freedom Project’s latest series that puts a spotlight on the flesh trade in the Philippines, the story closer to home, in Nepal, is relatable.

I remember talking to Geeta Lama in 2010 for a story. And though the story was about Anuradha Koirala who at that time was nominated for CNN Heroes—she later won the award that year—it was important to meet the women who Koirala had rescued from the Indian brothels.

Like Cecilia Flores-Oebanda, the human trafficking crusader and the lead character of “The Fighters,” Koirala has devoted much of her life fighting to bring back Nepali girls and women who have been sold to India for sex slavery.

Her stepmother sold Lama, now 29, when she was 10.  She spent three years of her formative years in a brothel in the Indian city of Pune, forced into prostitution before being rescued in a raid operation by Koirala’s organization Maiti Nepal, along with the Indian Police.

While Lama was sold for sex slavery, children in Nepal are also traded for other purposes, including factory work and circuses in many Indian towns.

In April, for CNN’s Freedom Project story, I talked to a group of young Nepalis who were trafficked to India to perform at circuses.

Bijaya Limbu’s parents sent him away with some “agents” for some meagre amount of money. He says they didn’t even realize they were selling him off or did the little boy then know that he was being trafficked. Later he found himself at an Indian circus forced to perform three shows a day at times.

Poverty coupled with lack of education fuels the trade of human flesh in countries like Nepal. In 2011, an estimated 11,500 people were trafficked or targets of attempted trafficking in Nepal (pdf).

But as it seems, the problem doesn’t only persists in Nepal’s villages. Walking down the touristic hub of Thamel in capital Kathmandu gives an instant impression that sex is in the offering. Behind the hidden walls of the dance bars and dark alleys, hustlers walk freely proposing tourists and locals.

The men come close and whisper. They start with “hash,” “ganja” and end up with “women.”

“Do you want woman?” is usually the standard question. You’re likely to bump into these men more than often in Thamel’s streets.

While the authorities have cracked down time and again at the dance bars and massage parlors that allegedly are believed to serve sex, the news comes and goes like the monsoon rain. It’s highly seasonal. Also, the magnitude of the problem is usually unacknowledged or just ignored.

The government though have plans to fight human trafficking, the implementation of law, like most of the other laws in the country, is weak. An estimated 200,000 women are said to be working in brothels across the border.

Kiran Rupakhetee, Under Secretary at the Government of Nepal’s Secretariat for National Committee for Control of Human Trafficking, identifies human trafficking as a “grave issue” that the society and even political leaders aren’t very much aware of.

“The biggest challenge is the implementation of the existing laws and regulations because we are in a very fragile political situation,” he told me. “We have to confess that.”

But while the government is discussing the laws and non-government organizations rescuing and rehabilitating victims of human trafficking, women and children in majority are being transacted as commodities. While some end up as domestic helpers within and outside the country, others have ended up in factories, brick kilns and brothels.

There are a lucky few like Lama and Limbu who have been rescued and been able to reintegrate themselves into the society.

But as we write and read their news of joys being rescued and starting life all over again and their sorrowful stories of being sold, there are thousands of others who are waiting to be rescued, whose stories might one day make headlines. And if not, their lives might just diminish as we are collectively crusading against human trafficking.

Those lives might just be another number to add to the increasing statistic that shamefully is human trafficking.

The Record Setters

Seven Summits Women (L to R): Shailee Basnet, Maya Gurung, Asha Kumari Singh, Pujan Acharya, Pema Diki Sherpa, Chunu Shrestha. Nim Doma Sherpa is missing in the photo.

Last week, I met seven women – we talked, laughed and shared their stories from around the world. While my stories spin around sightseeing, hotel stays and everything touristy, they talked about climbing mountains – the highest peak on every continent.

At a first glance, it’s difficult to fathom that they have climbed the highest peak on earth, Mount Everest, along with the highest mountains in Australia, Africa and Europe. By 2015, the Seven Summits Women, as they’re collectively called, are on a quest to  ascend the remaining three – the tallest points in South America, North America and Antarctica.

During the past two years, like the Seven Summits Women, I’ve talked to many Nepali mountaineers who have climbed the summits and set records.

I met Apa Sherpa, also called the Super Sherpa, who has climbed Everest a record 21 times before calling it a quit.

I travelled to Syangja in western Nepal to meet Sano Babu Sunwar and Lakhpa Tsheri Sherpa, who climbed Everest, paraglided from 8,848 meters and then kayaked all the way to the Bay of Bengal in India following the Koshi River in Nepal and the Ganges.

I also met Mingmar Dorji Sherpa, who started off as a porter but then assisted film crews and later started reporting about the mountains from the mountain peaks for state-run Nepal TV.

Then recently I interviewed Chhurim Sherpa, the 29-year-old who climbed Everest twice in one week.

It’s always fascinating meeting these courageous, adventurous people. And every time I meet them, I question what is it that makes them go atop a mountain, battling snowstorms, breathing thin air and risking their lives.

“You have to experience that yourself,” said Maya Gurung, one of the seven from the Seven Summits Women. “It’s some sort of addiction.”

I couldn’t agree with her more. But it’s not that I haven’t climbed a mountain. I know what it feels like – trekking up to the Everest Base Camp and also Kalapatthar seemed more than enough to me. The treacherous trek up to 5,500m, though worth it, is still very tough.I can’t think of going beyond that.

And here I talk to them who tell me their Everest stories as if it was just another trek up a small hill.

“I just sang a song all the way up,” Lhakpa told me of the Nepali tune that was his motivation – “Gorkhali ko Choro Hu Ma, Gorkhe Mero Naam (I’m a son of a Gurkha, Gorkhe is my name).”

While the Sunuwar-Lhakpa duo climbed, glided and sailed for the “sake of adventure,” for Apa, the 21-time record setter, climbing Everest, he said was “strictly a profession.”

“When I started climbing, it was to support my family,” he said. His latter climbs had a mission – to raise awareness about climate change and to raise Nepal’s profile in the global map through his record.

Others also share similar views — they all have their motives too.

The Seven Summits Women are on a mission to promote girls’ education and empowerment and Chhurim’s climb was centered around her childhood dream to summit the peak and to raise the profile of Nepali women mountaineers. She wants women to come forward and explore this business that is very much male-dominated.

All the mountaineers I have met have their personal stories, and at the end of the interview, I only get more inspired through their courage, determination, commitment and not to forget the success. I’m not sure if I can ever do what they’ve done, but I’m glad that my job allows me to meet people as such who are passionate about what they’re doing. And in the end, it makes me happy realizing that I’m also passionate about what I’m doing.

Stories

Seven Nepalese women have lofty ambitions to scale seven summits

‘Super Sherpa’ sets record with 21st ascent of Everest, then calls it a day

Childhood dream leads climber up Everest — twice in one week 

The men who leapt off Everest and paddled all the way to the sea 

From porter to reporter 

The rise of Nepali cinema?

If you’ve been complaining about Nepali cinema, I think now is the time to stop.

For the past decade, we’ve been critiquing the Nepali film industry – we’ve had nothing good to say about the movies, actors, directors, and everything associated with Nepali movies. Most of us thought that the movies made in the 80s and early 90s had more substance – take for example movies like Jeevan Rekha, Kusume Rumal, Samjhana, Saino and Lahure.

The rise of superstars Rajesh Hamal and Karishma Manandhar gave nothing apart from some super cheesy movies with the age-old formula of romance tangled in between social hierarchy (Note: An upcoming movie Manjari seems to follow the same lead.)

Personally speaking, I think Nepali movies remained pretty stagnant throughout the latter half of the 90s and mid-2000. Then Kagbeni happened in 2008. Shot with 2K digital camera for the first time, the movie included top names in the industry. Many thought it to be the “redefining moment” of Nepali cinema. But technological advancement isn’t the answer to making good movies. And needless to say, the movie wasn’t impressive.

“It felt like Stanley Kubrick’s Shining meets Eric Valli’s Caravan meets a Nepali tele-serial,” Kesang Sherpa, who has studied films closely, told me in a 2010 interview. According to her, the movie lacked originality.

Kagbeni, though failed to impress the audience, paved way for the “next generation” of Nepali movies that were technologically sound but suffered from content malnutrition.

Movies like Sano Sansar (I liked the soundtrack though), Kohi Mero and First Love had promising trailers. But when I watched them, they were nothing but localized versions of Bollywood movies – they lacked originality.

But the music video-turned film director Alok Nembang defended his films Sano Sansar and Kohi Mero.

“We cannot expect things to happen overnight,” he said. “And the existing trend of commercial boy meets girl, mushy love stories are a good way to begin.”

And this week, with the latest movie Kathaa, the boy meets girl love story has set a new benchmark for Nepali cinema.

Prashant Rasaily shines as a director, actors Saugat Malla, Usha Rajak and Timothy Rai delivers performances that are rare in Nepali cinema. The love story of Kancha and Kumari is so simple and delicately handled that it wins over your heart.

Kathaa certainly fills in the void of good storytelling and execution.

Just days before Kathaa, I watched another Nepali movie, or a documentary as a matter of fact, which equally kept me on a spell.

Kesang Tseten’s Who Will Be A Gurkha is an emotionally engaging piece of reality related to the selection process on Nepalis for British Gurkhas, which is often overlooked. Technically sound, the documentary allows the audience to experience the story – you feel for the characters, laugh with them and even cry. And that’s the beauty of a good piece of cinema – being a part of the movie while watching it.

Also, with both Kathaa and Who Will Be a Gurkha, the movies were original and localized to an extent that Nepali audience could actually relate to them.

Director Nabin Subba of the critically acclaimed 2008 movie Numafung said he tried to do exactly the same with his project.

“Films are a medium of expression that showcase the society,” he told for the story I was working in 2010. “And with Numafung, at least the global audience could understand that it was a film for Nepal.”

However, it is equally important for local audience in Nepal to feel the same way – that it’s a movie from Nepal made for Nepalis and to which they can actually relate to, even if it’s just a piece of onscreen fiction.

Lately, movies like Chhadke and Loot, though over-hyped and didn’t live up to the expectation, they were genuinely making an effort to bringing a fresh take on the Nepali screen.

While talking to filmmaker Subba in 2010, analyzing the recent releases then, he said he doesn’t see the silver lining very near. But I think he would be happy to see the change in Nepali cinema during the two years’ time and hence change his statement.

Having kept a distance from Nepali cinema for a long time, I am happy to make my comeback as an audience.

It’s indeed a great feeling to watch Nepali cinemas and appreciate the talents that we have in the country. Directors like Nabin Subba, Kesang Tseten, Prashant Rasaily and Tsering Rhitar gives us, the audience, something to look forward to. And actors like Saugat Malla, Arpan Thapa, Timothy Rai, Dayahang Rai, Usha Rajak, Dia Maskey and Reecha Sharma have steered from conventional roles, delivering performances that we appreciate, not mock.

And with movies like Badhshala and Uma releasing in the coming months, Nepali movies are certainly creating a good buzz. I’m happy to see that progressive side of Nepali cinema and that they’re keeping the audience satisfied.

Click here for my 2010 story: Re-defining the Nepali film industry (Page 20)

On the road to & from Palpa

In Nepal, travelling can be excruciating. However, spending hours on board an overcrowded bus, crammed in a small seat with minimal leg space as it makes its way up and down the winding roads that cuts through the hills can be an enjoyable adventure provided if you’re with a group of good friends.

And that was what my trip to Palpa in west Nepal was like — full of unanticipated adventure with a great group of friends.

***

The journey from Kathmandu started with the usual wait. We were told to be at the bus station at 7 am but we didn’t hit the road until 9 am. As we complained about the “hard seat” and the “eight-hour drive,” we were unaware of what to expect in the hours and days to follow.

The drive to Pala was scenic, and also scary. From a distance what looks like curvy lines sketched on the hilly terrain are actually the roads that connects towns and villages.

When we got to the bus station in Tansen, the district headquarter of Pala district, we were welcomed by further waiting time. We had to take this 13-seater van to Harthok, a small village that was our final destination.

As we waited for an hour inside the van, there were seven people who had been waiting there for almost three hours. The van wouldn’t move unless it was full; and when I say full, I mean without any space for anything or anyone.

When the van finally was on the road, there were 20 people plus a baby. There was this woman who started talking to us, gave tips and later kept insisting visiting the temple. Then there was this teenage boy who was sort of excited to see our “white” friend on the van. Then there was the man who was sitting in the middle and had to lean over two people to reach the window so he had could spit. And of course the baby, who thankfully didn’t cry at all.

As the van twisted and made swift turns through the narrow roads, my eyes were stuck on the window, trying not to think that a minor miss would lead us hundreds of feet down the hill.

But then, this ride and the twists and turns were nothing compared to the one we would be having the next day.

***

Speeding kills and all seven of us couldn’t stop thinking that as our driver sped his way through the winding blacktopped road that later turned into a dirt road en route to Rani Mahal, the 124-year-old palace in Palpa.

While a friend said that she felt like it was some sort of “death ride,” others thought of making some confessions or declaring our last wishes just in case. But we weren’t serious about that, of course not.

As our driver made swift turns, we screamed – it was like a rollercoaster ride. There were instances we thought that we might just miss that turn. And at times, while his eyes stared at passing women and not the steering, we were sort of concerned. But the driver was experienced enough to tackle those roads, and everything else, including the flat tire we had.

As we drove through the small settlements, we picked up people, the ones who needed a ride downhill. They included an elderly Canadian couple who were sightseeing in Palpa and locals, who suggested us things to see and do in their village.

On our return after our short hike, I think we were tried to feel the bouncy ride or notice the narrow roads. Our driver dropped us off in the same speed, and in no time we were sitting by the bonfire talking about “one of the most bumpy rides ever.” Meanwhile, we thought that we would have a smooth journey to Kathmandu the next day. Well, that’s what we thought. But not really.

***

The 12-hour return to Kathmandu was adventurous; I think that’s the best way to put it.

Thinking it would be best to take the night bus and reach Kathmandu early the following day, we opted for the 5 pm bus. The first 30 minutes was a joyride. The bus driver played his English play list—Rhianna and other dance anthems included—that tempted us to dance. It made us settle in a happy mood.

Soon the English songs faded and the Hindi and Nepali music became overpowering. Still no complains until the empty seats and the aisle started filling.

Usually night buses don’t cram passengers, but this had people everywhere – some were sitting on small stools and suitcases while others stood. It was pretty shocking that there were a few who were ready to stand up all the way to Kathmandu, and they did as well.

While people in the aisle shared their stories of the need to get to Kathmandu at the earliest, two women right behind my seat were the center of attention of the entire bus. People keenly watched them flirting with the man behind them (well, the man was flirting with them too), and listened to their conversations that revolved around music, movies, relationships and their personal lives. Well, by the first hour nothing remained personal. As the night progressed inside the bus, we also had to bear one of the girls picking on fight with some of the men in the bus. And we thought it couldn’t get worse until the bus was parked outside a small teashop in the middle of the highway.

The bus stopped exactly for two hours. From 1 am until 3 am, the driver took a long nap. To justify why he’d stopped and slept, he said that he didn’t want us to get to Kathmandu at 3 am—the city was roughly two hours away. Good point and pretty logical, but still it was pretty annoying to be inside a motionless vehicle for two hours. Good thing, we were close to a hotel that was serving tea.

Finally, after all that fuss, we reached Kathmandu at 5:30 am.

***

The journey was long and exhausting, but the destination was worth everything.

Palpa isn’t a famous tourist destination unlike other places in Nepal; it’s not the first place that comes to the mind like Pokhara. But it’s different: it’s a mix of nature and culture.

While a walk through the old Tansen bazaar is a good way to experience local culture and see old architecture, minutes away from this bustling town are small settlements, which is a good escape from the periphery of anything city-like.

We preferred to spend the few days in one of the villages in Harthok, and opted to stay in a local farmhouse, and not a hotel. A young venture, Srijana Farm Pvt. Ltd in Khasyauli – 5 is a locally-run guesthouse set up in a three-story mud house.

In fact it was a great choice – the local food and the hospitality was above excellence, and we were in the middle of a farm, away from all the dust, pollution and the chaos of the city. And this is what we actually wanted – a mini break.

So despite complaining about the journey and the excruciating bus rides, I think we’re taking comfort in the time spent in the village under the blue sky and starry nights. For us, this time, it’s the destination that mattered more than the journey.

Instagramming Kathmandu

I’ve been on some sort of a writing break – haven’t really wrote anything or even have had the thought of writing anything.

I spend my days soaking up the warm winter sun in Kathmandu, mostly. Once bored, I usually go for walks – sometimes planned and at times just random.

As I walk, I usually complain about most of the stuff I see – no proper sidewalks, ill road manners, the stinking mountain of garbage, the dust, the smoke, this weird spitting habits of people …

But at the same time, I do appreciate the beauty of this city. And here are some shots taken from my cellphone, and of course Instagrammed.

 

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When the lights go out

Every morning, I wake up and check the schedule.

Today, it’s 7 am to 3 pm and then 7 pm to 1 am: That’s 14 hours.

If you’re thinking that’s my work schedule, you’re probably wrong. That’s the routine for today’s load shedding – the routine power cut off in Kathmandu, which effective January 19 has increased to 14 hours a day, 98 hours a week.

It’s been five days that I’ve been in Kathmandu. In three years time, it’s the second time that I’ve actually packed my first world comforts and moved to this developing country, which in all fairness is home.

As much as I am used to the luxuries of the first world, I should say that I am also accustomed to the third world lifestyle – living without power is certainly one of them. And I must say that during all the years I have lived in Kathmandu, a city that has been infested with power cuts throughout my adult life, I, along with most of the city dwellers, have tend to develop a coping mechanism to life without power.

From candles and kerosene-lit lamps to solar-powered lanterns, we now have advanced to inverters, which sucks up the power when there is electricity, charges itself and generates backup power. At least, the room is lit up and I can charge my phone and computer. But it doesn’t support the electric heater or the water kettle. So yes, the room is cold – at least five degrees colder than the outside temperature – and I have to walk into the freezing kitchen in layers of clothes to fetch me some tea.

But regardless of having no power for 14 hours a day, which is an utter inconvenience, I do think that it has some little perks.

When there is no power, as much as my eyes are fixed to my portable gadgets, by which I mean my phone and computer (I don’t own any other gadgets), they usually give up after a while, and unless there is electricity, I cannot recharge them. So I take this time to reflect on ideas, read and indulge into things that I would have never done had there been power. During the past few days, during those dark, powerless evenings, I have been catching up on my readings. And I definitely plan to read a little bit more.

During the routine power cuts, I have also made a point to call friends in and around the city. And no, I’m not texting or Skyping with them, but actually calling them and making a point to meet one of these days when the lights go out.

Yes, so when the lights are out, it’s a good opportunity to rekindle with your friends and family. Sitting in the living room, talking about mindless and meaningful stuff, it just seems like the 90s when I was growing up, living in the pre-Internet age.

Also, not having lights until 1 am or so is a good reason to go to bed. So gone are those days when I’m online, doing some unnecessary research until 3 am. It’s also an end to waking up late in the mornings. I’ve actually started to wake up at 7 am, which is quite unusual for me. I take it as a good change.

I’m sure that in the coming hours and days I’m going to come up with more ideas and a list of things-to-do when there is no power.

I’m going to be in this city for a while now. And for a fact, the hours without power is going to stay. So rather than groaning and moaning about something I cannot change or control, I just plan to develop some coping mechanisms to combat life without power. And as much as I think it’s going to be difficult, I plan to dictate those dark hours for my own good.

Read my post from February 2011 when there was a 14-hour power crunch. 

Greetings from Kathmandu

So I have moved to Kathmandu, once again- back to my roots. This Nepalese nomad is on a temporary break from all the travelling, at least for a while.

Now, since I’m in this amazing city, this space will be home to my life and times in Kathmandu – this will include the good, bad and the ugly side of my hometown, and more.

Meanwhile, I will be continuing my reporting endeavours from Nepal. And of course, I will be on a lookout for another adventure in some part of the world.

For my past posts on Nepal, you refer to Notes from Nepal. 

If you’re on Instagram, you can follow me there: bibek_bhandari 

Pushpa Basnet for CNN Heroes 2012

I first met Pushpa Basnet – one of the prospective CNN Heroes 2012 -  in 2011. We were both standing on the Bagmati Bridge that connects Kathmandu to Lalitpur. I was there as an observer and Pushpa had come to participate in a silent protest against Nepal’s political leaders who have failed to deliver the country’s constitution.

It was raining, and yet a group of people stood there, trying to get their message across.

“You have to meet her,” said Stuti, one of my friends as she introduced me to Pushpa and left us to talk. She was soaked in the rain.

“You need an umbrella?” I asked as I shared mine with her momentarily.

“So what do you do?,” I asked Pushpa.

“I work with children whose parents are in prison,” she said elaborating more on what she has been doing. We talked about her project, Early Childhood Development Center.

“Oh yes, I know you,” I carried on the conversation. “My friend interviewed you.”

One of my friends and former colleague had mentioned Pushpa’s efforts in her story about post-prison life for Nepalese women.

That day, on that bridge, I appreciated her work and dedication and wished Pushpa luck for her future projects.

And currently, as she appears on CNN’s website as one of the Top 10 nominees for CNN Heroes 2012, I can only appreciate her work more and show my support toward her relentless service for Nepal’s future generation.

In an interview with CNN, Pushpa said she was “shocked” to find out about her nomination.

She told CNN: “To be in the same platform as that of some of the world’s most compassionate and driven people is an incredible honor.”

In its fifth year now, CNN Heroes have showcased some of the world’s most outstanding people who have made a real difference in other people’s lives in their own ways. They have helped individuals, communities and their country. For many they are the social warriors and in some cases, even life saviors.

For instance, Anuradha Koirala, CNN Hero 2010. Soon after her nomination in the Top 10, I wrote a story about the woman who has rescued hundreds of Nepalese women from brothels in neighboring India.

Since Anuradha was traveling at that time, I couldn’t talk to her. But this gave me an opportunity to speak to many others whose lives she had transformed.

In our everyday lives, we come across people like Pushpa and Anuradha in our communities. Oftentimes we tend to overlook their efforts and actions until they’re splashed in media spotlight. But people like them are there around us, in our neighborhoods, among our friend circles and even amid our families.

Platforms like CNN Heroes gives these people an international recognition, underscores their endeavors. Most of us hastily start voting once they are nominated for awards as such and spread the word through social media. Of course, we want them to win and bring home the award and put a Nepalese name in the global spotlight.

However, at the same time, we tend not to acknowledge other heroes like them who are in close proximity .

At this moment, when we are taking time to vote for Pushpa and have another Nepalese CNN Hero, or vote for the other nine equally amazing heroes from around the world, let us also look around and find other heroes who have made and are making significant contributions to our societies. Let us acknowledge and appreciate their work, be inspired and even join them in their small and big efforts.

Who knows, that in this quest of voting and nominating a hero from our community, we might also stumble into a hidden hero within us?

Kutumba: Mainstreaming Nepalese folk music

The first time I saw Kutumba was during the 2010 Jazzmandu. I had returned to Nepal after a long time, and watching this Nepali folk music ensemble in an international jazz festival hosted annually in Kathmandu was a great musical experience.

Since 2010, I have heard Kutumba at various venues, and every time it has been a different experience, including the one in London yesterday.

It was Kutumba’s maiden UK tour, and their first performance in London. Just the fact that they performing at St. Paul’s Church in Covent Garden, also known as the Actors’ Church, was different, but their line up was particularly diverse than what I have heard. It certainly sounded like they were prepared to play for the Nepali diaspora with a mix of original compositions as well as classic Nepali tunes. From Nepali folk to film soundtracks, Kutumba’s tunes brought Nepalese living abroad closer to home.

While the classic Nepali tune “Reshan Firiri” was an instant crowd pleaser, the 200 plus audience provided a chorus to the evergreen song “Asarai Mahinama” (Here’s my favorite cover by Diwas Gurung). And the audience did not deter from dancing in the typical Nepalese way to a medley of nostalgic tunes that included folk songs like “Lekali” and “Sodha Ramalai” and popular soundtrack from Nepalese movies like “Mohani Lagla Hai” and “Maitighar.”

Just before the show, I talked to Pavit Maharjan, Kutumba’s percussionist. I have met him several times in Kathmandu, and it was good to see a familiar face, and a popular one at that, in London. He told me it was a “totally new experience” for the band being in the UK for the first time. Moreover, the band members told me that their collaboration with Scottish musicians during their Scotland performance was rather unique; it was a fusion between Nepalese folk with fiddle and bagpiper.

Having travelled far and wide across Nepal, and the globe, Pavit told me that Kutumba’s musical mission is to “bring all the [Nepalese folk] instruments together and represent Nepal.”

In London, they were successful in doing that.

For London-native Madleine Marsh, Kutumba was a “real surprise.” The 51-year-old said she heard about the concert from a Nepalese friend and did not know what to expect.

“I knew nothing about Nepalese music, and I love it now,” she said as she wiped her sweat as she exited the dance floor.

Kutumba’s music has also helped Nepalese youth to connect to folk music, partially, if not in its full entity. Their music is enjoyable yet it retains the ethnic flavors of the diverse Nepalese culture.

Kutumba gives young Nepalese an opportunity to like Nepali folk music. They have mainstreamed folk music to a certain extent and their collaborations with commercial Nepalese artists have further aided in its popularity.

At Jazzmandu, the band collaborated with Cadenza Collective, a popular jazz group. At an event in Kathmandu Durbar Square, a cultural square in central Kathmandu, they played together with Nepalese rock group Albatross for the first time–it was a well-crafted musical camaraderie.

But one of Kutumba’s best performances has to be at the Rashtriya Nachghar in Kathmandu in June. They performed alongside pop singer Astha Tamang Maskey and rock band Jindabaad. The fusion of pop, rock and folk created a sound that was creative, commercial, very Western and yet very Nepali.

With eight years since its existence, Kutumba has produced five albums and in their performances they play their original compositions and improvize other Nepali tracks otherwise.

One of my friends argues that listening to Kutumba gets monotonous after seeing them live for a few times. I agree. But I think what makes the difference is the setting and the venue itself, and of course the crowd is always different, which makes a difference too. Though they played some of the same tunes, seeing them during Jazmandu was totally different from seeing them at the Rashtriya Nachghar in June where they included a group of women folk musicians playing the dhime, a traditional Nepalese percussion.

One of the best parts of watching Kutumba live is to just see them perform. Every time I see them, I see a passion in their performance. While performing, they interact through their eyes and smiles among themselves. And just looking at them, listening to them, you can tell that totally absorbed into it.

During the 90s, Sur Sudha, a three-member Nepalese musical trio, made Nepalese folk music popular locally and internationally using traditional instruments like tabla, flute and sitar. Their compositions are highly acclaimed and the trio has also been accredited by many titles, including Nepal’s musical ambassadors.

Kutumba is in a similar league, but they have managed to incorporate some modern sounds to their music. This has therefore helped them to become a more commercial and accessible to young ears for whom the folk sounds have become more enjoyable, something they can dance to.