People of Bhaktapur joyously pull huge yellow chariots housing idols of Bhairabh and Bhadrakali to usher in Nepali New year. Photo by Monika Malla

The expanse of what is today known as the Kathmandu Valley consists of three districts—Kathmandu, Patan, and Bhaktapur. For the people here, every season and each festival signifies a moment of profound reverence to their past and an eager nod to the future.

The rain chronicles

From above, the Kathmandu valley is green and gilded but still resembles the vestiges of a fabled upheaval, as if the gods had once uprooted a mountain but left behind a valley that is both lush and interlaced with rivers. Today, of course, the brown thatched houses in the valley are adjacent to a concrete jungle.

Every April the people of the Kathmandu Valley, who follow the Bikram Sambat calendar, bid adieu to the year gone by and welcome the new year with unusual celebrations. This year, the first day of their calendar falls on April 14. In Bhaktapur, New Year’s Eve commences with a ceremonial procession called the Bisket Jatra, where Bisket literally means ‘snake slaughter’.

It is believed that the commencing of the new year implies a victory over the naga rakshasas (snake demons) that ruled over the valley in prehistoric times. Back then, most of the demons were forced to evacuate the valley with the draining of its lake, but a few remained.

Living in rivers and ponds, these creatures exercised tremendous power over the land by controlling that one essential phenomenon—rainfall.

People of Bhaktapur joyously pull huge yellow chariots housing idols of Bhairabh and Bhadrakali to usher in Nepali New year. By Sushan Mool

An annual groove

In Bhaktapur, it is believed that the spirits of the gods descend on New Year’s Eve when people carve an 80-foot lingam from a tree and bedeck it with banners. The banners signify two serpent demons who were slain when they emerged from the nostrils of a sleeping princess of the Malla dynasty.

The crowds follow a procession of two heavy chariots, one carrying Bhairav, the wrathful form of Shiva, and the other Bhadrakali, the bloodthirsty form of Goddess Parvati (Lord Shiva’s consort). The crowd then splits into teams for a tug of war between the chariots believing that the winners will have a prosperous year. Teams also compete to collapse the giant lingam to the ground and the moment it crashes, it is believed that the old year dies along with the demons and the new year begins.

Three miles west of Bhaktapur is the village of Thimi where the new year is celebrated late into the night with ceremonial oil torches that are believed to be so hot, they annihilate the harsh winter, beckon the summer, and with it, ensure nourishment for the year’s crops.

Celebrants smear vermillion powder on one another to mark the ever joyous Sindur Jatra in Thimi, Bhaktapur. by Sushan Mool

On the second day of the New Year, neighborhood deities are carried through the street in temple-like wooden structures called khats. People shower the deities and each other with sindoor (vermilion powder) in a colorful procession that is known as the Sindoor Jatra.

Across the highway from Thimi is the village of Bode, which has its own procession accompanied by a unique ceremony at the temple of Mahalaxmi (the goddess of wealth). A volunteer, who has undergone a four-day cleansing ceremony, offers himself as penance to the temple. The pujari (priest) holds the man’s extended tongue with a piece of cloth and thrusts a long needle through the penitent’s tongue, after which the man walks through the village where all can witness his penance. It is believed that a bloodless penance denotes great merit but if the volunteer bleeds, it is considered to be a bad omen. The celebration here is known as Bode Jatra.

The monsoon mythos

It takes three months of incessant torrential rain to harvest an abundant supply of rice. An enduring monsoon turns the soil into dripping mud from which tender rice shoots begin to sprout. The people of the valley believe that if the snake gods are unhappy, they will not release the rain. Legend has it that once when they were imprisoned, the land experienced a 12-year-long drought. It was only when Rato Machhendranath (the god of rain and plenty) released the snake gods, did the rains return to restore the prosperity of the valley.

Nepalgunj farmers use a pair of oxen and wooden plow to plow fields following the age-old tradition. Banke District. Photo by Nihal Akhtar