They look no different from any other quartet of aged men who like to talk about the good old days and whose lungs are getting increasingly inefficient. The ripe old wrinkled smiles on their faces and their animated conversation marred by cigarette-induced coughs might remind most of us of our village oldies. To the less-discerning eye, the only thing peculiar about these men is their attire, a Newari version of the traditional Labeda Suruwal and Dhaka topi which is special to this region. But after conversing with this quartet, one begins to realise that behind their carefree smiles lies a history that hasn’t always been kind. These old men belong to Chyasal, an old Newar town on the edge of Bagmati River, north of the more sophisticated and politically powerful Patan. Chyasal has seen it all. It started out as a fortress town, then it was considered a border town, and finally a rebel town. The attitude of the old men towards life seems fitting to the history of the town, as both the people and the place have grown increasingly tougher with every metamorphosis. 

Stripped of glory

These men talked about how beautiful and pristine the Bagmati River was when they were children. They talk about how they would throw “Dhyak” (coins) into the river and the person who went into the water and succeeded in fetching the coin could keep it for himself. With the onset of democracy in 1990, an influx of people from other parts of Nepal crowded the Kathmandu Valley as they settled in the Capital with hopes of a better life. Now, the poor management of the new denizens and years of unplanned urbanisation has stripped Bagmati of all its life and glory, making it the most polluted river of the country. 

The people of Chyasal were particularly hard hit by the pollution of their beloved Bagmati because most of them were farmers and used the river as a source of water for agriculture. Many of them had to seek other professions and abandon farming, a profession that their folks had been practicing for centuries. The nostalgic glint in the suspiciously moist eyes of the old men and the way their voices tremble when they talk about swimming and fishing in the old Bagmati river gives us a glance into the sorrow they feel at the polluted plight of the river. But they recover with aplomb and resume smiling. Their recovery speaks volumes about the character of the town and its people who will never give up. 

Born of blood

The known history of this town started with blood. The name Chyasal means 800 in the Newari language. According to the old men, 800 people were killed in Chyasal when it was a fortress during the time of the Licchavi dynasty. During the reign of the Malla dynasty, which lasted for most of the medieval and pre-modern period, this town was situated on the border between two competing Malla empires, Patan and Kathmandu. And as in the case of most border towns, its people were always suspected of being spies or having allegiance to the other side. The majority of the people of Chyasal are Byanjankars, a farmer caste. The Malla kings of Patan distrusted them and thought of them as spies for the other side. So Chyasal never achieved the prosperity brought by trade and commerce that we generally associate with border crossings. Generations of distrust by outsiders have made the people of this town stick to themselves. The old men still believe in rallying together; they say they seldom venture outside the town and hardly mix with people of other castes. However, their smiles are readily given to anyone who is willing to trust them. 

The modern era has treated them no differently either. During the Rana regime and the flowing autocratic Panchayat regime, the people of Chyasal were often mugged and raided by the security forces. Chyasal has a history of supporting left wing political parties, coupled with the fact that they have always been sceptical of outside interference; they were portrayed as that stereotypical rebel town. The old men speak of the perils they faced during the Panchayat regime. They talk about how the police would enter their town, raid their houses, arrest them, and torture them for information about the hideouts of rebel leaders. The old men talk about the old political vanguard with a particular distaste, for Chyasal has always been at the receiving end of the autocratic political systems. Even after democracy was attained, Chyasal was left out of political representation. Due to the historical distrust of the people of Chyasal, political offices have remained aloof from these people. The old men believe their candidate for Mayor of Lalitpur Metropolitan City lost because he is a Banjyankar from Chyasal. The new liberal political-economical system has done little if not nothing for these people. The men say that a series of unfulfilled promises ranging from autonomy to cultural rejuvenation to betterment of living have made them indifferent to the matters of the state. Their testimonies often petered out as they gazed over their surroundings. Gone are the open fields of yore and the ancient structures. They have been replaced by tall rising emblems of budding capitalism in a modern thriving metropolis.        

The old men were done talking, at least for that day. They stood up and dusted themselves off. Just like their town has stood up to all the hardships and dusted itself off after every challenge. They make their way back home, just as they have been doing for the past seven decades of their lives, despite all of the social, political, and environmental changes their town has been through. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the determination of these old men and their town which remains standing against all odds. The hoarse laughs of the old men could still be heard as the sun went down behind the hills.                

- Ghimire is pursuing an MA in Tribhuvan University Central Department of English and is a news editor at Radio Nepal