Book Review: 'Ghurko Dhuwa' and the Nostalgic Echoes of Madhesh

The mention of 'Ghurko Dhuwa' (Smoke of the Hearth) immediately conjures an image of smoke rising toward the sky in our minds. Rajesh Khanal's 'Ghurko Dhuwa' reflects a personal past, where our collective history seems to stir. I had the opportunity to receive this work from Rajesh Sir at a Martin Chautari event, where I found my own past within its pages. Sitting in Kirtipur reading 'Ghurko Dhuwa', my body feels as if it is warming itself by the hearth in Taulihawa, where I spent my childhood.

A 'Ghur' is created by digging a small pit and burning straw, twigs, and fallen leaves. From the beginning of Hemanta to the middle of Shishir, it is customary for everyone to sit together in the courtyard to warm themselves by the fire. It is an opportunity to listen to the conversations and thoughts of both the young and the old. The atmosphere becomes delightful with proverbs and laughter while warming up by the fire.

Time passes unnoticed. It seems to me that most people in Madhesh grew up warming themselves by the hearth. Even if the front is hot and the back is cold, they learned to grow up with nature. There were no heaters back then, nor any air conditioning. I wonder if the tradition of warming by the hearth still exists there now that winter has begun, or if heaters have replaced it in every room?

The soot-covered hearth might not be liked these days, but whether one likes it or not, the hearth holds a distinct culture, intimacy, love, and sweetness in society. It carries the love for the land where one grew up. Therefore, those memories are awakened and unified in Khanal's book.

Remembering those days, that childhood time comes alive before my eyes. The place might be different, the language might be different, but the habits, customs, and culture of Madhesh remain the same.

In the villages, there used to be a 'Chautari' (resting place) to enjoy the breeze in summer and a hearth for warmth in winter. But the hearth is not just a place to warm up; it is a 'Chautari' of life, where one learns many lessons from the elders. Perhaps the environment, geography, civilization, and culture of Eastern and Western Madhesh are the same. While reading the book, I found many similarities between the environment of Aurahi village in Eastern Madhesh and the environment of Western Madhesh.

There is an Aurahi village in our Taulihawa as well. The practice of burning cow dung cakes is common there too. There is a tradition of roasting potatoes, chickpeas, and green peas. Eating 'Bhuja-Chana' as a snack is equally common. What we call 'Bhuja' in our region is called 'Murai' in the east. What we call 'Dhebari' (oil lamp), they call 'Dibiya'. We also used to roast potatoes and fry Bhuja in a pan as snacks. How delightful those golden days were! There were no ready-made foods like today.

Remembering those days, that childhood time comes alive before my eyes. The place might be different, the language might be different, but the habits, customs, and culture of Madhesh remain the same. We are from the Awadhi region. There is a blend of Maithili, Awadhi, and Hindi languages. Therefore, I found similarities in the lifestyle of Eastern and Western Madhesh. I found my own past, hidden in the womb of time, in Khanal's memoir.

There were no luxury items or means of entertainment at that time. Madhesh was rich in its own culture. As the author says, we also used to have various cultural programs, singing, dancing, Ramlila, and Nautanki. People took great pleasure in these. At that time, there was a sense of unity among people. There was attachment and love for one's culture.

Women were not allowed to participate in Nautanki; they were only spectators. If a female role had to be played in that region, men had to dress as women to perform. Today, the village of Bhaluwahi, which used to enjoy such cultural harmony, is silent. It has been a long time since any Nautanki or cultural program was held there during Dashain. It is not just the author's village of Bhaluwahi in Siraha; today, most villages across the country are silent. Culture and civilization are fading away. That is why Nautanki and cultural programs are no longer held in villages.

In the postmodern era, the empire of information technology is expanding rapidly every day. Western culture has arrived at our doorstep. As a result, the youth are migrating abroad. Therefore, the culture of Madhesh could not be passed on to the next generation. Madhesh, which was dense with original culture and civilization, is now under the encroachment of cyber culture. Due to global reasons, the original traditions and culture of Madhesh, which have been running for generations, are being displaced. What would a generation watching the world from their rooms know about Ramlila and Nautanki? It must seem like a fairy tale to today's youth.

Children back then did not stay confined within the boundaries of a room like the children of today.

We ourselves are responsible for the disappearance of Madhesh's folk culture. We could not pass on festivals and culture from one generation to the next. That is why languages and cultures are disappearing. The proverb 'The old die, the language dies' has proven true.

The hearth is not just a way to warm up. It is also a way to manage waste by burning leaves and twigs to make manure; while ash is used as fertilizer or pesticide.

Children back then did not stay confined within the boundaries of a room like the children of today. They enjoyed themselves with friends. In the book, the author is seen enjoying himself in that way. While talking to his grandmother, he would go out to play as soon as his friend whistled.

'Andhadko Tikula' (Mangoes in a Storm) takes the reader to the mango orchard with a bag or sack. My mouth waters when I remember that time. The memory of me and my friend biting into mangoes from the tree and throwing them away comes alive. In the summer, the wind would blow fiercely, knocking down mangoes. We would negotiate with the storm and pick up the fallen mangoes. Reading 'Andhadko Tikula', I remembered the storms of that time in Madhesh. I remembered my friends. Even if the storm threatened to blow us away, we would run fearlessly to pick up the mangoes. It is amazing to think about it now.

The sky of Kathmandu is hazy now. The sun is covered by clouds. If a storm like the one in Madhesh were to come, this hazy sky would surely clear up. Right now, mango trees in Kathmandu are blossoming. In Madhesh, the mangoes must already be turning into small fruits.

The time for storms is approaching. The mangoes are also slowly growing. Children must still be running around just as the author and his family ran to the orchard with baskets.

'During the mango season, a bucket of ripe mangoes was washed and kept at snack time, and we would suck on as many as we liked and could digest.' Truly, it feels as if the author has written my own childhood here. This context made me dive into my own past. I felt like embracing the words. The scene of us sitting with a bucket in the middle, sucking, eating, and throwing away mangoes flashed before my eyes. During mango season, we used to eat just like that.

Reading the subtitle 'Last Camp in the Birthplace', I realized that no matter where a person goes, the birthplace where they were born and raised continues to follow them.

I tell my daughters this now. We never ate mangoes by cutting them. The taste of those mangoes still lingers on my tongue. I read these parts of the book two or three times, where I found intimacy. I became a child again. My heart danced with joy. I remembered my beloved Taulihawa from right here. I looked back at the life that has moved forward. How dear those childhood memories are! Even though the place and culture are different, the childhoods of the author and our Madhesh were quite similar. Even though time and environment have changed, the heart remains that of a child.

It is seen that parents carry bags and take children to school and pick them up until they are 14-15 years old. In those days, children of a young age used to take responsibility for themselves. They enjoyed nature, swam in the river. Today's children have become like broiler chickens. This book might be suitable for children to understand the culture of Madhesh.

Reading the subtitle 'Last Camp in the Birthplace', I realized that no matter where a person goes, the birthplace where they were born and raised continues to follow them. Even though the author and his uncle Dr. Anjani Kumar Sharma came to Kathmandu leaving their village, their love for the village remains the same. How can one forget the scent of the soil where one was born! Even at the age of 85, Dr. Anjani Kumar Sharma goes to the village and examines patients with the same enthusiasm. Even more surprisingly, even when he is a cancer patient, he expresses a desire to go to the village and hold a health camp. Perhaps this is the reverence for the motherland; the scent of the soil one is soaked in lasts forever.

Reading the subtitle 'Sita is smoking a Bidi', the reader laughs freely. Seeing the person playing Sita smoking a Bidi in hiding, 12-15-year-old youths ask in surprise - Even being a goddess, Sita is smoking a Bidi! This scene makes not only the audience but anyone reading the book laugh. Another thing, in Ramlila, instead of falling after being hit by Ram's arrow, the artist says 'Pahile talab deu tab marab' (Give me my salary first, then I will die). This is another funny thing. The artist had not received his remuneration for two months. That is why no matter how many arrows hit him, he would not fall...

The Nautanki, circus, and Ramlila of our villages, which have been running traditionally, have become rare. Yet, those entertainments are coming to the author's mind. The author has brought the lifestyle, food, and culture of Madhesh to life. Even though time and environment have changed, the author's mind is focused on childhood.

In 'Ghurko Dhuwa', written in a memoir style, not only the author's personal experiences but also the readers' experiences have come together.

The presented memoir is good and readable from the point of view of linguistic beauty. The use of regionalism in places has added a distinct sweetness to the language style. The image of Madhesh forms in the mind with every word. The author has indicated everything from the villages of Madhesh to the busy streets of Kathmandu in this work. In this collection, 18 various titles have been put into words as a display of experiences. This work has reunited the author and the reader with their childhood and motherland.

(Kirtipur, Kathmandu)