The identity battle

Rana Tharus in their traditional attire (c) Facebook/Tharu Community

By Bikram Rana
Courtesy: Republica

Rana Tharus in India mostly reside in Udham Singh Nagar district of Uttarakhand and Kheeri as well as in Pilibhit and Gonda, districts of Uttar Pradesh. They are recognized as a scheduled tribe by the government of India. The Indian constitution gives several special social, educational and economic benefits to those categorized as the scheduled tribes.

In Nepal, Rana Tharus have been native residents of Kailali and Kanchanpur since the 16th century and are, in fact, the first settlers of the two districts. The four districts, namely Banke, Bardiya, Kailali and Kanchanpur, were under British administration from 1816 to 1860 and were included in Nepal by the British before they left India. Prior to the inclusion of Kanchanpur and Kailali in Nepal as ‘naya muluk’, the settlers in these two districts were Ranas and Katharias followed by Tharus from Dang and later by others.

Being natives of two districts, Rana Tharus were prosperous land owners with big houses and livestock. They were old land lords (who owned or held land before the introduction of the land reforms in 1964) of both the districts. Though the Rana community was economically and socially powerful, the literacy rate among them was low, a condition that prevails even today. However, their native places were gradually encroached upon by other groups and even by the Panchayat in the name of rehabilitation (punarvaas) and by the democratic government in the name of sanctuary broadening (aarachhya bistaar).

In 1854 Jung Bahadur, the first Rana Prime Minister of Nepal, developed Muluki Ain, a codification of Nepal’s indigenous legal system which divided the society into a system of castes. The Tharus of Nepal were placed at the bottom of the social hierarchy, just above the ‘untouchables’. During this period, the Rana Tharus of Kailali and Kanchanpur were under the British administration (1816 to 1860). After the inclusion of these four districts in Nepal, anthropologists and experts have been largely biased against the Rana Tharus as well as other Tharu groups.

This injustice was further perpetuated by the government of Nepal which placed Rana Tharu in the same category of Tharus as in the previous census, even though they claim to be very different in reality. This reminds me of what famous American anthropologist Ralph Linton had said, “The way of life of people is one thing, what we study and write about, is another dimension of culture. The former is reality, the latter our understanding of the same. If the former is to be culture, then the latter may be called only culture construct.”

Although physically the Rana Tharus are similar to other Tharu people in the area, they speak their own language. Rana Tharus differ from other Dangaura and Chaudhari Tharus in most respects, including language, attire and culture. According to sociology, “Indigenous group is any ethnic group originating and remaining in an area subject to colonization and have retained their distinctive identities. Such groups often appear to go through a sequence of defeat, despair, and regeneration, if they have not been exterminated or their culture completely destroyed by the external or colonial power.” This supports the theory that Rana Tharus have a different identity, which has survived for years and cannot be erased at the peak of political transition when every group is fighting for its identity.

The functionalists who are trying to maintain their strategic advantage and the utopians in their endeavor to usurp the rights of others are using different tools to obfuscate the main debate surrounding self respect and unique identity of minor groups. This makes the federalism process contradictory.

Few leaders who enjoy the facilities of both hill and Tarai regions fear losing their strategic advantage with growing demands for Tharuhat because the inclusion of two districts, Kailali and Kanchapur, in proposed Tharuhat has resulted in a counter protest for a ‘united Far-West’. This is an attempt to maintain status quo in the region so that there is no change in the condition of communities who have been deprived of any stake in power and governance. Ramesh Lekhak, one of the CA members has said that Rana Tharu, Dangaura Tharu and hill people in Kailali and Kanchanpur have been living in harmony. On the surface, there is harmony in the sense that there have been no violent clashes between the hill and Tarai inhabitants; but if you plunge deeper, both the Rana and Dangaura Tharu have felt slighted since the hill people have been enjoying strategic advantage in terms of authority, power and caste superiority.

Tharus have been rarely included in the societies and bodies formed in the name of the ‘Far-west’. These societies have merely highlighted cultural traits of the hills, while ignoring the Tharu culture. For instance, no Rana or Dangaura music has been played on Kantipur radio programme touted as the ‘voice of Far-West’. Leaders from the hills who belong to major political parties get the opportunity of picking constituencies both in the hills and Tarai while Tharus who have this option only in Kailali and Kanchanpur struggle to get candidacy even in these districts.

The reluctance to consider Rana Tharus as a different group and recognise its independent identity has now put the community in danger of becoming extinct. Failure to acknowledge and respect the separate identity of Ranas is likely to affect the community and the future of the proposed Tharuhat.

In the past, being more economically comfortable, Rana Tharus felt less suppressed and were satisfied with their land holding and did not feel the need to educate their children. However, the other Tharu groups have felt strong discrimination ever since the promulgation of ‘Muluki Ain’ in 1854 and have placed comparatively more emphasis on education while participating more in the politics of Nepal.

Now with the implementation of positive discrimination policies, the census classifying the Rana Tharus as Tharus, Tharuhat obstructing the recognition of a separate Rana Tharu identity and the ‘united Far-west’ acting as a functionalist, the Ranas feel their very identity is under threat. Thus, organisations like Rana Tharu Sangharsh Samitee, Rana Tharu Welfare Forum and Nepal Rana Tharu Samaaj are raising their voice for a separate Rana Tharu identity.

Geographical delineation alone cannot determine a federal state unless adequate space is created for all, while ensuring a fair distribution of power and authority. The solution is to create what could be a ‘win-win situation’ for Rana Tharus, Dangaura Tharus and the hill people. This requires some give and take by politicians from the hills who enjoy the strategic advantage as residents of both Tarai and the hills.

The author is the founder president of the Rana Tharu Welfare Forum, Kanchanpur and can be contacted at bikram324@gmail.com   
 

One herb a day to keep your tooth woes away

If you are planning to visit Terai and especially a Tharu village, never worry to take your brush and toothpaste for your daily brushing. Enjoy the natural toothbrushes of different flavours and medicinal properties while supporting the environmental cause. Do as the Romans do in Rome – it would be better to say do as the Tharus and Madhesis do in Terai/Madhes.

I never bother to carry a tooth brush and tooth paste tube when I visit my home in the Terai. Instead, every other day I use bamboo, neem, babool, Ficus spp., Jatropha curcas, Clerodendron spp. and Achyranthes aspera (prickly chaff flower, devil’s horsewhip, Sanskrit Apamarga) twigs as natural toothbrushes. Apologies for the botanical names!

Bamboo twigs 
Almost every village in Terai has bamboos planted in the village outskirts. Probably, due to the manifold uses of bamboo – in building houses, baskets, fishing equipment, rice storage barns, mats, fencing and so on.

It’s quite simple to break off bamboo twigs. Just remember to press hard at the nodes. If you are not used to snapping off bamboo twigs, use a sharp knife. A twig of 8-10 inches length and around 1 inch diameter makes and ideal toothbrush.

Start chewing one end of the twig until it takes shape of a brush. Don’t swallow the bitter juices, just roll them around your gums and brush your teeth as per your usual schedule. When you are done with the brushing, split the twig into two parts and use them as tongue cleaners.

Neem (Azadirachtha indica)
Neem is an essential ingredient in Ayurvedic toothpastes. Just like the bamboo twig, you can choose a tender twig and with the help of a knife make a brush.

The process of chewing the twig and brushing is similar to that of a bamboo twig. The juice from the natural brush contains beneficial ingredients that kill harmful bacteria, reduce inflammation, and stop bacteria and plaque from sticking to your teeth.

As in case of bamboo brush, after cleaning the teeth the neem stick can be split in half, bent into a U-shape, and can be used as a tongue cleaner.

Babool (Acacia arabica)
Babool is another important ingredient Ayurvedic toothpastes. In the Terai, it is famous for whitening of teeth. It is called baboor in local language.

The babool twigs can be used as disposable toothbrushes after removing the thorns. The tannin present in babool is effective in whitening teeth.

Shahor (Ficus spp)
There is a commonly found tree in Terai called shahor, leaves of which are used as fodder. The shahor twigs can also be used as brushes. The brush making and brushing process is same as that of Neem.

Likewise the aerial roots of the banyan (Ficus religiosa) can also be used as disposable toothbrushes. The banyan roots have astringent properties, which not only make the teeth whiter, but also make the teeth and gums healthier.

Baghandi (Jatropha curcas)
Jatropha grows in wasteland and is used as natural fence in Terai. The small tender twigs can be used as a toothbrush to clean teeth. Jatropha juice has gum strengthening properties.

It is believed that the sap from the leaves can be rubbed onto the gums of babies to aid with teething.

Clerodendron is called Bhait in local language.

Bhait (Clerodendron spp.)
There’s a saying in Terai which identifies bhait as the second best herb to brush your teeth with, while ulta chichri or apamarga is the best for brushing.

While the plant is used as decorative plant in other parts of the world, they are found in abundance in wastelands and forests in Terai. I have seen the plant in mid-hills too.

The plant is uprooted and the stem which has many medicinal properties is used as tooth brush.

Ulta chichri (Achyranthes aspera)
As it resembles a whip with thorns, it is called devil’s horsewhip and ulta chichri (meaning thorns arranged conversely to the stem) in local language. It is called apamarga in Sanskrit and is supposed to act as a safeguard against scorpions and snakes by paralysing them. It is described as purgative, pungent, and digestive, a remedy for phlegm, inflammation of the internal organs, piles, itch, abdominal enlargements, rheumatism and for enlarged cervical glands.

Devil's horsewhip is the best natural toothbrush.

In India and Terai of Nepal, the juice is applied to relieve toothache. The stem of the plant is used as toothbrush after removing the thorns. The infusion of the twig is also used as a wash for tooth pain. Roots are said to be useful in treatment of cancer and decoction of roots is used in stomach troubles.

So isn’t it a good idea to brush your teeth everyday with a different herb? Be a part of the green movement by leaving aside your plastic toothbrush and using natural toothbrushes to brush your teeth.

Then and now

Courtesy: The Kathmandu Post

In the Tarai, an old tradition turns a young Tharu girl into a Kamlari. Normally from low-income families, they work as indentured labourers, spending many years away from family, and are often denied an education. In the last decade, efforts have succeeded in ending the system, offering these ex-Kamlaris a new hope. Through organisations like Friends of Needy Children (FNC) and Room to Read, many girls who have escaped the Kamlari system have been granted an opportunity to change their lives for the better. Along with free schooling from the sixth to the 12th grade, girls in Room to Read’s Girl Education Program attend Life Skill sessions taught by Social Mobilisers (SM). These SMs play a vital role in helping the girls put their pasts behind them and move towards a future where they are able to stand up for themselves and heal. An SM is of paramount importance, and when an SM has herself borne the burdens of the students, her story becomes all the more inspiring. The Post’s Shreya Thapa had the honour of meeting Gita Tharu, 22, and Josina Tharu, 21, who were gracious enough to share their stories.

Joshina Tharu and Gita Tharu (L to R)

GITA THARU, 22
If I am to start from the beginning, I was sent to be a Kamlari when I was nine years old. My father was a Kamaiya for my Malik’s family and my Malik was a school teacher who needed a Kamlari. I told him I would work for him if he sent me to school. I went to work for him and he sent me to school from the fourth grade until I passed my SLC.

Not all Maliks are bad and not all Maliks are good either. My Malik was okay, but his second wife was terrible. She would make me do all the work and she would complain about how much shampoo I was using because I used to have long hair. At one point all the work caused my feet to crack and bleed, but even then she was never sympathetic. It was most difficult because I didn’t have time to study. I would do all the housework and still try to make it to school—sometimes I’d go without a uniform because I really wanted to study.

Despite issues like the fact that my Malik wasn’t initially willing to pay Rs 100 for tuition for one subject, I managed to pass my SLC. After that, he said he couldn’t educate me anymore, so for one year I didn’t do anything. I didn’t have work, I didn’t have the means to study, so then he came and told me that he’d pay for my college if I worked for his family in Nepalgunj.

I went, but I didn’t get what I wanted, so I left and went back home. Around this time, FNC was rescuing girls and offering them education so I applied, but I was never selected. I found out that they didn’t want to accept me in the programme because the girls they took were around 11 or 12. I was already 17 and there was the risk I wouldn’t complete my +2 because I’d get married. My mother would plead with a didi who worked at FNC and finally they agreed. I was determined to study and do well and show them that I could do something.

While I was studying in the 12th grade, I got an internship with FNC for three months and I attended trainings on how to end the Kamlari system by campaigning and speaking with Maliks. Then I went and worked as a Field Observer for six months. Around this time, my final results came and I passed, but I didn’t have the means to study further.

Soon I was making Rs 6,000 a month and taking care of my entire household. At that time, my family wasn’t supportive at all. I had to go to Kathmandu for training and when I asked my father for Rs 1,000 for travel expenses, he got angry and told me to leave, he said he didn’t care if I lived or died and that I’d never amount to anything. I told my father that unless I got into an accident and died, I’d prove myself.

I took trainings and gained some experience and then heard there was an opening at Room to Read; in fact, they called me and asked me to interview. I thought about it, without the help of my family, what was I going to do? I got the job and have been working as an SM since November 2010.

I worked in various districts but right now I have around 40 students that I oversee—I hold the Life Skills sessions for them. I teach them how to be strong women, I visit them at school, I visit their homes, and I get to know them. Because I have this job, I am now paying for my bachelor’s degree in Nepali and have just given the first year exams. On top of that, I’m also paying for my brothers who are still in school.

Now my family support me, they tell me to do well in whatever I take up. But no one understands what it’s like unless they’ve been a Kamlari—I won’t let my uncle’s daughters go as Kamlaris. No matter how poor we are, I won’t let anyone else go because I’ve endured so much as a Kamlari myself.

Now I go to Kathmandu all the time, and through FNC, I’ve even met the Prime Minister. I’ve also been to many ministries and been a delegate for many events. I’ve been interviewed by various papers, my photos appear in the papers and when I see what I’ve said, it makes me happy to compare my life now to what it was like before. For now, I’m studying, I’ll finish my bachelor’s degree but I don’t know what’s next. When I think about my life—where I was to where I’ve come—I still don’t think I’ve been able to process it fully.

Josina Tharu, 21

Everyone in my family has been a Kamlari or a Kamaiya. We have very little land and when I got older, there wasn’t enough to feed me and keep me at home. I was sent to work as a Kamlari when I was eight, and the Maliks I worked for let my parents farm on their land. I worked for two different Maliks during the five years I was a Kamlari.

The first Malik was okay, but the second Malik lived near the Indian border and since everything was cheaper in India, I’d be sent there to buy things; I was always afraid someone would take me and sell me. The Malik wasn’t home a lot, but his wife was terrible—she yelled all the time and even beat me.

The entire time I was a Kamlari I never got to go to school. I really wanted to study but my Maliks refused to let me. So while everyone else went to school, I would have to stay home and cut grass, take care of the buffaloes, cook, and do the dishes. They wouldn’t let me go anywhere. In fact, when my sister-in-law was sick, they didn’t let me go home and I didn’t get to see her before she passed away—I didn’t even get to go for the funeral.

Later when my grandfather got sick, I knew they wouldn’t let me go see him, so one day, I ran away. One of my sisters lived close by, I went to her place and told her to either drop me off at home or let me spend the night with her. The next day I went to Guliriya and didn’t pay the bus fare. I had no money so I explained my situation to the driver and he let me on the bus without charging me anything.

As soon as I left, the Malik called my brother and yelled at him, and my family was no longer allowed to farm on their land. When I came back, my parents were angry at me, but then they eventually accepted me into the family.

At that time there weren’t any organisations or support, but I’ve found that if you are determined, anything can happen. When I came home, there was an organisation offering classes to older women, which I joined. I was 12 and younger than all the other students and the teacher thought I could do well, so she gave me extra classes. After a few months, I enrolled into the fourth grade.

At first it was difficult for me—not school, I didn’t have a hard time studying—but the fact that my old friends weren’t treating me well. They were mean and said terrible things; the neighbours used to talk and say, “This girl has lived somewhere else, she was a Kamlari, what can she do?” My family suffered because of this.

When I was in the eighth grade, I taught a class for older women for nine months, and since then I’ve always been involved. I worked with an organisation that helps Kamlaris and Kamaiyas, and because I worked hard, I was chosen to attend trainings and got opportunities that way. I continued to do more teaching until I heard there was an opening at Room to Read, where I’ve been working as an SM since 2009.

I have 60 children between the age of 12-16 who are all ex-Kamlaris. Looking at the children, I feel happy because that’s where I came from and after hard work and many struggles, I am here now and happy. When I can talk to them and when they open up to me, we all move forward together. There are so many difficulties that the girls aren’t able to talk about, but when they can open up it really helps them, and I can understand all of the pain they are holding.

I currently give Life Skill trainings to the children. I used to want to be a nurse but our circumstances didn’t make it possible, instead I just gave my first year exams for a bachelor’s degree in Sociology and I want to be a counsellor.

When I went to a counsellor, I cried for seven days because before then, no one had ever asked me how I felt. No one was here and I didn’t know who I could go to to pour everything out—I know the children must feel the same. Now, of 30 students, around 15 or 16 have sat down and opened up to me, they take some time but eventually they talk about the things that they usually try to hide—things like family problems, fights with friends, and even rape. I think I’m drawn to this because you can’t always understand situations, but if you can understand a person and help them heal—that’s a big deal.

Change makers of the Tarai

By Shreya Thapa
Courtesy: The Kathmandu Post

Imagine a massive celebration; picture your whole family, your whole village coming together. Try to fathom what Dashain, New Year and every major festival merged into one would be like and only then will you understand Maghi. Celebrated on Magh 1(mid-Jan), Maghi isn’t a big deal in the Tharu community just because it’s the largest festival; it is also the time when decisions and plans for the upcoming year are made—decisions like choosing who the Badaghar, village head, will be.


“The whole village sits together and the previous Badaghar asks for leave and resigns. Then each person voices their wants and demands for the upcoming year. After choosing which appeals will be put into effect, the village makes a plan for the next year. When goals are made and a plan is set, only then is the Badaghar chosen,” explains Tihar Bahadur Tharu. This village meeting has been held in the courtyard of his house for over 15 years as Tihar has been elected and re-elected to be the Badaghar of Balapur in Bardiya. As the Badaghar, Tihar is then responsible for carrying out the village’s plans and ensuring changes are made in that year.

“We make plans for one year, but in the back of our minds we also have to think a little longer,” says Ram Lal Tharu who is the Badaghar in his village of Maghragari, Bardiya. But if a good Badaghar is found, he is not let go of very easily. “I’ve been the Badaghar for over 10 years, recently I’ve been saying I don’t want to do this anymore, that I am no longer capable, and that I am tired—but the village doesn’t listen,” he says with a resigned laugh.

And given how much responsibility Badaghars shoulder, it is no surprise that they tire. “For every decision that is made, the Badaghar is included,” says Laxmi Ram Tharu, who has also been the Badaghar of Dhampur, Bardiya, for around 10 years. He smiles, “There are things that you can’t even think of that we have to do.”

Responsibilities as the village head naturally entails being part of the committee that establishes the village laws. “These laws are more important than the national laws,” Tihar says, “If we declare that for one year there are to be no laathi charges then it will be followed.”

But the Badaghar isn’t limited to the higher level official work, he is included in virtually every decision, “The bigger things are there, but we are also consulted about things like giving goats and buffalos injections,” Laxmi says. As the Badaghar, Ram is currently most concerned about building a bridge that is the point of connection between his village and just about everything else. “We have a wooden bridge now but it’s in terrible condition; when that goes, I don’t know what we’ll do. Right now I worry about how to get a bride.” The worries Badaghars have to tend to even go as far as settling disputes between villagers. “We find out what the cause is, we try to see things from both sides, and then we offer a solution to those fighting,” Tihar says and adds, “But whether they listen to us or not is up to them.”

Given the prestige and power that comes with being a Badaghar, it is surprising that what they say is in no way final, “We make suggestions and recommendations but then the people are allowed to choose if they want to listen or not—if we forced it on them then it wouldn’t be any different from the Rana period,” Ram says. Instead, everything is extensively discussed until the best possible solution is found.

Perhaps this system of the Badaghar being responsible to the people he is responsible for is what makes it a success. During their time as Badaghars, with the help of various NGOs and INGOs, they have worked within their community to help remove the Kamlari system when young girls are used as indentured labourers; new educational facilities have been built nearby; roads have been built; more homes have toilets now—Ram is especially proud of having collaborated with Red Cross and being the first to build toilets in just about all of the 431 houses in his village.

What is incredible is that these men are not educated—on top of being Badaghars they are farmers, and they receive no compensation for the services they provide to their villages. In the annual meeting that all Badaghars of the region attend, they recently discussed providing a small stipend for Badaghars but where that goes remains to be seen. In the mean time, their devotion to their communities and their advocacy for positive change continues.

“Because I didn’t get to study myself, that’s the one thing I advocate the most for. I encourage everyone to study; education is the biggest wealth. After someone is educated they can stand up on their own feet—this is what I tell everyone,” Laxmi says. Ram adds to Laxmi’s cause, “If people aren’t educated, sometimes it is difficult to work with them, but if they’ve been schooled, they understand better and it makes our work easier.”

Despite the lack of education, the progressive thinking these men hold should be applauded. “I set up something so that women, even the older ones, can learn to read and write,” Ram says and Laxmi goes as far as saying, “I think we need women Badaghars. We ask them to come forward, we say we’ll help them learn—we’ll help them with work, we’ll help them with money or going to different places. We need to move forward, we need to get women involved—keeping them shut in the room won’t do, we need to enforce the attitude that women should and can be in bigger positions.”

Their ideas to promote women and youth is especially impressive for a country where older men have long been in charge, but these Badagars modestly attribute their way of thinking to experience, “It’s all about experience; it’s through experience that we’ve been able to come this far. For me, it definitely wasn’t education,” Laxmi laughs and adds, “You learn as you go, you teach things you know to others, and you learn things you don’t know.”

Listening to them, it’s no surprise that their villages are unwilling to let these men step down. Given how fruitful this truly democratic system has been, it’s unlikely that the tradition—which exists where Chaudhary families live in Banke, Bardiya, Kailali, Kanchanpur, and Dang—will fade anytime soon. As it stands, the community still needs them, in Laxmi’s words, “The villages will always need something—only time can tell what the need of the next generation will be.”

The month of Baishakh and the Sambhunath temple



Sambhunath temple

If you are in the Eastern Nepal in the month of Baishakh (April-May), make sure to pay a visit to the Sambhunath temple. The temple is in the Sambhunath Village Development Committee (VDC) of the Saptary district adjacent to the East-West Highway. A month-long fair is observed at the premises of the temple to usher the New Year and pay obeisance to the Lord Shiva.

The Shiva Linga is believed to be growing.

Sambhunath is one of Lord Shiva’s many avatars. However, the Tharus call the deity Semnath and the month-long fair Semnath Dham (Refer to the comment by Mr Bhulai Chaudhary at the end of this article). On the very first day of the year (first of Baishakh), locals and pilgrims from surrounding districts and India come here to worship and offer “jal” (water) to the Shiva Linga which is continuously growing (as believed by local people). During the month-long fair, people worship Sambhunath and offer jal from the nearby pond. People with warts offer a pair of brinjals to the deity to get rid of the skin disorder. Miraculously, many people get cured of the warts. The fair at the temple premises offer you everything from edible items to entertainment like theatrical performances.

There are two ponds near the temple. Worshippers take bath and take water for offering to Shiva from the one situated at the western part of the temple. Another at the eastern part is bigger in size. It was a huge wetland in the past, however, due to encroachment has reduced to a pond. Still, the wetland attracts migratory birds and bear lotuses. It is in dire need of conservation.


Ruins of an earlier settlement

It has not been ascertained how old the Shiva Linga is. The ruins at the southern part of the temple indicate that the Lingam belongs to a very old settlement. The pieces of pillars and columns suggest there was an ancient kingdom in that area. It needs further study and research. The locals need to attract archaeologists to this site to delve into the history of the area. Meanwhile some people have been stealing away the precious pieces of ruins. It needs to stop and the area needs preservation measures from the state.

Nearby, in Kanakpatti Village, after the huge earthquake of 2050 Bikram Sambat (1993 AD), a nicely carved terracotta wall emerged from a hillock. Local people rushed to the area to collect the terracotta pieces. Later the Archaeology Department sealed the area for further research but it never saw the light of the day. This further indicates that the area was a burning hub of activities in the past.

There are many myths surrounding the Sambhunath temple and I request you to contribute to this article by posting the myths surrounding the temple.

Silver ornaments of Tharus



Tharus have a special affinity for silver ornaments. I wonder why Tharus are attracted by the white metal and not the glittering gold. In my opinion, silver is preferred as it suits the complexion of Tharu women and is cheaper. Another reason could be the easily available George V silver coins which were easily available in the past and could be molten into ornaments.

Few of the silver ornaments worn by Tharu women are housali, kanda, sikri, payal, motha, barhari, pahunchi, bank banju, churi, aunthi, chharra etc.

1. Housali is the Tharu version of the modern necklace. It is still worn by rural women. However, the size has diminished in comparison to earlier housalis. The housalis used to be thick round necklaces of around 2-3 Kgs silver.

2. Kanda is an anklet, but is heavy and is sometimes of around half kg silver each.

3. Chharras are thin round anklets which are worn in sets of three or more in each leg.

4. Barhari is the arm band which is often called katri in the Eastern Terai. It is thick and heavy.

5. Motha is an arm band which is similar to kanda worn on legs but is blunt at the ends differentiating it from kanda.

6. Aunthi is a ring which is made of both gold and silver.

7. Payal is an anklet which his lighter than kanda and chharra and is worn around the ankles.

8, 9 & 10. The bank banjus are worn around the upper arm.

Takka har

11. Takka har is worn around the neck and is made up of silver coins.

12. Sikri is also a form of necklace with thin strands of silver woven  together.

A Tharu belle in traditional attire

The ornaments of Tharus vary in form and size from place to place and they are also named differently by different Tharus. If you know more about the Tharu silver ornaments you are welcome to add to the list and post photos along with it.



Sikri

A beautiful pair of ear rings

Bracelets

Photo courtesy: http://www.facebook.com/TharuCommunity

*Photos republished with the permission of Facebook group Tharu Community.

 

Nepal's first female mahout leads elephant safaris

Courtesy: The Kathmandu Post/AFP

Nepal's first female mahout, one of only a handful of women across Asia to be selected to drive elephants, spoke Tuesday of her pride at breaking into the all-male profession.

Meena Chaudhary, 33, was selected for the highly-specialised role after being picked from a female-only shortlist of 15 candidates as part of a government scheme to get more women working in the public sector.

"Women are flying aircraft. So, driving an elephant is peanuts," she said. "I wanted to prove that we're equal to men. I showed it by being an elephant driver."

Mahouts take tourists on elephant-back safaris in southern Nepal's Chitwan national park, home to the endangered royal Bengal tiger, the rare one-horned rhino and other exotic animals and birds.

The job has traditionally been a men-only preserve because women are often considered weak in the conservative, Hindu-majority Himalayan nation.

Chaudhary, who has led up to half a dozen drives a day since taking on the role two months ago, said she was proud to be breaking that stereotype.

"We were trained for three days on how to treat elephants and how to drive them towards the jungle," she told AFP.

"We were also asked to climb trees and swim," she said, adding that another woman had now been selected to join her.

But she told AFP she was full of anxiety on her first day in the job.

"I was not used to dealing with so many people. I was also afraid that something might go wrong. But everything was all right," said Chaudhary, who receives a monthly pay of 10,000 rupees ($120).

Mahouts are often introduced to their elephants as children and stay with one animal for decades. They drive their mounts using oral commands and pressure from their feet on the elephant's ears.

There are around 100 mahouts in Nepal, with a handful paid by the government and the rest employed by the hotel industry in Chitwan.

Every year thousands of people visit the park, a haven for wildlife and one of Nepal's biggest tourist attractions.