Seeing the Light

Ilam from Chiyabari Cottage

In case you're wondering, most of the time I'm working - but more about that in another post. The October to November lunar cycle is the Hindu festival season culminating in Tihar, the colourful celebration of light conquering darkness. In India it's more familiarly known as Deepavali.

I decided to stay in Ilam for the three day mid-week holiday and catch up on a spot of work and do some hiking rather than take the winding six hour drive to green sweaty Terai.

Nobody could quite explain what was going to happen for the celebration, every day had a different meaning but each time I asked I got a different explanation. Three things were a constant though, tikka, lights and visiting family.

Energy sapping festivities

Unlike most of Nepal, Ilam is blessed with more or less constant power but as dusk fell and the fairly lights light up the buildings, even Ilam's power supply was overloaded. Intermittent power gave way to the warmth of candlelight and stars suddenly revealed dense texture to the sky. Town now seemed a little more holy.

...the father, the son and the holy goat...

A decidedly unholy goat sat in Ilam town centre with a chain of marigolds around her neck. She didn't appear to appreciate having being the only goat ceremonially spared the annual sacrifice. In truth, it looked like she had been overlooked for a number of years now and wouldn't in any case have made a good meal.

At my hotel, the family had been diligently preparing marigolds chains all morning and they were gradually covering the town as they were draped across the buildings and sold from under every banyan tree.

Colourful powder patterns laid out on the doorsteps invited friends to come and sing dosi, a Nepali version of carol singing. A troop of blind men duly obliged at eleven in the evening, carting with them a huge speaker to make sure nobody missed them. Eventually, after they had kept everyone up long enough, a bottle of whisky was added to the plate of fruit and marigolds that was their reward. It seemed to work and they moved on.

Marigolds under the Banyan tree

I found myself in their place the next night with some friends from the football team, clutching some rice wine - dosi rea... dosi rea... dosi rea... went the unending refrain. I think I was declaring my happiness at all around me. It wasn't far off the truth.

Singing dosi 'til the early hours

Maybe my presence in town had reached a tipping point or it my own outlook that had changed, but over Tihar I felt I was becoming part of this place. There was an extra gentleness to the way people tilted their head and greeted Namaste. I was grateful to feel at home during the three days of Tihar and was glad I had stayed.

-----------------------Pissed people during Tihar-----------------------