Tying the Final Knot

There are several different versions Hindu weddings that differ from one another not only from country to country, but city to city, village to village, caste to caste, and even sub-caste to sub-caste. Depending on which deities are highly esteemed, which traditions and values the culture holds, which customs and rituals have been passed down for generations, and who is getting married to whom, witnessing one Hindu wedding is not the same as witnessing them all. 

Below is a program from my sister's wedding who is actually a recent newlywed. The symbolism and the significance behind the rituals performed throughout the ceremony are explained in the program so that guests who had never attended any form of Hindu wedding could extract meaning out of it and not be bored to death. The way in which everything is laid out makes it appear as though the bride and groom are regarded as equals and are expected to respect each other and live out their lives as husband and wife in a balanced marriage that does not place one higher than the other. Knowing my sister and brother-in-law, I can say with great confidence that the nature of the marriage is definitely one in which the concept of equal devotion, love, respect, etc. that is stressed in the wedding rituals plays out in reality. However, I cannot say the same is true for many other married couples, especially those who are of older generations. When it actually comes down to it, there is greater sacrifice, compassion, and understanding expected out of the women than the men when it comes to choices and decisions made on behalf of the marriage or household. Apart from just differences in household chores, there are several other differences in capabilities and privileges between a husband and wife. So it's interesting how rituals that explicitly encourage one thing do not get carried over into the actual reality of the situation once the ceremony is over. 

I think that like all traditions, customs, rituals, and practices of a particular culture, the ones that I have discussed stem from a long history and practice of Hindu customs and patriarchal influences.To me, after initial reflection of these practices it seemed that they were very paradoxical in nature in terms of the dissonance in the messages that they appear to be encouraging versus what actually happens in reality. I had never questioned my cultural practices. I have always just gone with the flow. This project has helped me realize the importance of questioning my experiences and understanding the meanings behind what I have done or gone through. It is not to say that if you dig deep enough, you'll find that every ritual your parents have ever put you through had alternate motives and meanings that were completely negative and not in your favor. It is also not to say that if that actually is the conclusion you reach after reflecting and researching, that it is necessary to immediately point fingers, designate bad guys, and renounce everything you and your family have ever known and practiced. Rather, knowing the significance behind these things not only informs you of your culture and background but also gives you the advantage of not letting these unknowns turn into a form of your own subordination or subjugation.

Self-empowerment through knowledge.

That is the ultimate goal.

All Hail the Virgin Goddess!

Aside from rites of passages that young Newar girls and boys go through that reflect the inequality between men and women in Nepal, you also have other intriguing traditions such as the Kumari Devi that further establish this paradoxical paradigm of glorification versus subjugation. This is one custom that is both compelling and controversial.

Kumari Devi is a custom in which a living child is worshiped as the embodiment of the goddess Telaju or Durga (goddess of destruction and blood sacrifices). Every ten years or so a young girl between the ages of 4 to 7 is selected by high priests to live as the real-life incarnation of the goddess until her first menstruation, upon which it is believed that the goddess vacates her body and she resumes her mortal status once more (Das, 2014). Because we all know that goddesses apparently eat, sleep, and defecate just like normal humans but by golly if she bleeds from her vagina she is no longer considered a superior being. Who makes up this crap? Seriously.

So how is she selected? Choosing a Goddess to be the Kumari is nothing like your average college recruitment process of NCAA athletes. She has to be screened for the right horoscope and have all of the appropriate attributes of perfection ranging from the color of her eyes to the sound of her voice. She then has to pass a series of tests that, in my opinion, can be questionable in terms of humane treatment. For example, she has to be placed in a dark room surrounded by several severed heads of sacrificed animals and masked dancers. Talk about trauma. But the real Kumari is the one who stays calm and collected through this experience. I have to say that in a sick way I do like that a test for fearlessness and serenity in a situation of turmoil is what she has to pass which are attributes that would be expected out of the men in any given society. As frightening and cruel as the task is, I'd rather it be that than having to pass a test of poise and balance or how well she can cook rice and lentils.

Once chosen, the girl must leave her home and family to reside in a palace known as the "Kumari Ghar" which is located in Hanumandhoka Palace Square in Kathmandu. She rarely gets to leave the palace, except when carried on a golden palanquin to religious ceremonies. In fact, she barely gets to walk at all as her feet are considered sacred. Because it's very rare to see the Kumari in person, her palace is a popular tourist attraction where people will stand and watch to see if they can get even a glimpse of her looking out her ornately carved window which is considered very lucky.

While virgin worship is not new and has been practiced across many cultures, the practice of worshipping a human girl as a living goddess is quite unique to Nepal. This tradition has been around since at least the 17th century and there are several legends as to how it came about. The most popular one tells of a Nepalese king who possessed the ability to communicate with the goddess Telaju. In fact, she used to visit him every night to play dice and discuss affairs of state. One night, however, the king made a sexual advance towards her which infuriated the goddess. She visited him in a dream that night and told him that she has withdrawn her blessing for his kingdom and that his dynasty will be destroyed. She also vowed from then on to only appear as a young virgin girl of the Shakya Caste. Interestingly, that king's dynasty did end in a coup shortly after and the new king sought the blessing of Telaju in the form of a young Shakya girl. And the tradition has continued ever since, and every September the Kumari goddess, decked out in jewels, makes a procession on her golden palanquin during the Indra Jatra festival.

The fame and fortune (literally) sounds groovy and all but what do you tell these little girls when it's time to pick a new Kumari? Oh snap! You started bleeding from where today?! Off the pedestal!
That must be devastating for some girls who are worshiped through much of their childhood and respected and deemed as a powerful deity whose blessings are sought throughout the country and then told one day that they have lost all of their powers through their vagina and it's now time to find a more worthy candidate. What do these girls go back to? After having been apart from their families for so long, I can't imagine how they can go back to living and reconnecting with people they barely know. You only hear about the fabulous life of the Kumari but what they rarely tell you is how the afterlife of the Kumari is for these girls.
In the past, the Kumari received no education during her role but now the girls can receive private tutoring. Also, it used to be believed that it was very bad luck for a man to marry a former goddess. I think this belief has faded somewhat in recent years because many former Kumari's have gone on to marry and have children. I feel sorry for the Kumari's who had to endure those transitional hardships such as going back to a working world with no education and having stigmas of misfortune attached to their reputations.

As fascinating as the tradition is, I see many problematic issues with it such as the treatment of the girls to choose a Kumari as well as the lack of proper preparation and aid in facilitating the transition back to what most people would consider a "normal" life. Even the delicate and overprotective treatment of the Kumari who is always confined within the palace walls unless being escorted on a special golden carrier and not allowing her to have too many outside interactions seems absurd. She's supposedly high and almighty but she's not allowed to have friends or go out in public or even walk around by herself? I get that it all goes back to religion and how if she is considered a deity then her feet cannot touch the dirty ground that the rest of humanity walks on. But is it really necessary to impose so many strict rules and cage her in her own palace? That seems to be a very odd way to treat a goddess. You would think that people would be taking orders from her and not the other way around.

So once again, we have yet another example of a popular cultural practice that seems to be the ultimate fantasy of any young girl in which she is glorified and treated like a goddess on the outside, but then when one digs deeper, there seems to be many underlying issues underneath that make you tilt your head sideways. I think it would be very interesting to be able to interview a real life Kumari and get her perspective as she is in her role as a deity and then again with a follow up interview when she is replaced with a purer virgin goddess.

Bartaman: The Male Not-So-Alternative Counterpart to Ihi

I became so absorbed in my past two discussions about the rituals that Newar girls go through as rites of passage that I almost forgot to mention the one ritual that Newar boys go through. This is the not-so-alternative counterpart to the female Ihi ceremony. How so? Well, the male alternative counterpart to Ihi would mean that the rite of passage is very similar to Ihi in nature of significance, meaning, symbolism, and rituals except that it is performed for young boys rather than young girls. However, this rite of passage shares nothing in common with Ihi other than the fact that boys go through it at the same age that young girls would go through Ihi, People claim that it is the male counterpart to Ihi and call it Kayta (boy) Puja while Ihi is known as Keti (girl) Puja. But in reality, the differences in the significance of the rituals suggest that they are certainly not equal.

While Ihi is about protecting and freeing a girl (because we need so much protection and freeing that we have to have an entire ceremony dedicated to it), Bartaman is about welcoming a boy into manhood. They undergo this rite of passage to become full members of their patriarchal line and caste. Even if they are quite small at the time, they become, for religious purposes, men, able to conduct and participate in sacrifices, marriage, and other rituals, and most importantly, to perform the death rituals for their parents. 

I have never seen the ceremony performed but my understanding comes from the stories I have heard about my cousins and other male relatives who have undergone the ritual. It involves the boy renouncing the life of a householder by having his head shaved, and, while naked with only a loincloth, he performs actions that symbolize a "going away" from his family as the boy knew it, and "coming back" transformed as a man, permitted to take an active part in all religious ceremonies and ready to take on new responsibilities.

Okay. So lets think about this for a second. 

Attention. 

Spotlight. 

Respect. 

Glory. 

Praise. 

Hmm. Yeah. Don't see any underlying tones of subjugation or any problematic issues with the meanings that can be interpreted from the Bartaman ceremony. Sure, they might be slightly embarrassed for having to walk around naked for part of the ceremony and then with only a loincloth. But guess what? Tarzan did it. And he is probably the most manliest of all Disney men if there were ever a competition for greatest portrayal of masculinity. Moreover, there is no extraction of meanings suggesting their inferiority or impurity or fragility and need for protection and freedom. The stripping of clothing has nothing to do with vulnerability. It is not used as a tactic for humiliation. Instead, it seems more like an opportunity for a boy to acquire more confidence as he is going through this symbolic process of transformation. This ritual does not try to protect them or free them from anything whatsoever. 

They are the protectors. They are free.

Thus, they make the rules and carry on the traditions for man.

And for woman.  

Barah: Ready, Set, Purify!

My second marriage took place when I was 11 and a half and involved being locked away in a dark room with no sunlight for four days straight with the restriction of not being able to have any visual contact with the male species. There was also a fire-breathing dragon guarding the entrance to my chamber that would desecrate any foolish suitor who thought he could outwit it.
Okay, maybe not.
But I really was required to stay in my bedroom with the windows covered so that no natural light could seep through.
No, Child Protective Services was not called.

Barah takes place when a girl begins menstruating. She is no longer considered a child, but a fertile woman. It is a time for celebration for she now has the amazing ability to hold and bring forth life. BUT menstrual blood, particularly the first time, is "frightening and impure" according to the observations of Coon (2010). Thus, the Barah rite of passage reconciles this contradiction by "purifying the womb" before the first menstruation. This negative viewpoint on menstruation is not entirely uniquely Newar. Even in the United States, we can talk about Viagra all day long but as soon as someone says "tampon" it's nothing but gasps and clutching of the pearls.

"Barah" literally means "twelve" in Nepali. Traditionally, for twelve days, she stays in her room with all of the windows covered up and is not allowed to see the sun or the face of any man including her father, brothers, and other relatives. Throughout the twelve days, she goes through a purification process. And on the twelfth day, she takes a bath, gets dolled up in bridal garments, and emerges as a strengthened and purified young woman. Usually in Nepal, the girl is taken outside on the rooftop terrace with a blindfold. Before she can see any male's face and continue on with the rest of the ceremony she first looks upon Surya Dya, the sun. After that, it's nothing but merriment, parties, gifts, and "congratulations" from all the relatives. But what they're really trying to say is "Oh my god, you made it out alive!"

Want to take a wild guess at who I married this time?

I know he's a little funny looking but he sure knew how to brighten my day! 

(wink, wink, elbow, elbow)

I have to say, though, the part about being locked in your room for twelve days really isn't that bad. All your girlfriends and female relatives come to hang out, watch movies, play dress-up, listen to music, and just have girl time. Many parents even put their daughters in the same rooms as other girls who are going through Barah so that they can keep each other company and go through the experience together. It's almost like the Nepal counterpart to the American pox parties. When one kid has chicken pox, you expose all the other kids to him/her so that they can all be infected at once so they don't get it at a later time. Similarly, if you have one girl who needs to go through a cleansing ritual, you might as well throw in a whole roomful to rid them all of their female impurities and cleanse them all at once. Conservation: it makes sense...I guess.

Here is a picture of my two older sisters during their Barah ceremony together when they were wee little nuggets:

Since it's such a common tradition that happens in Nepal, teachers and principals are fully aware about these important rituals and so they completely understand when a girl is missing from school for two weeks. Having grown up in the states, I imagine was a tad bit more difficult for my parents to explain to my middle school teachers in Lexington, KY why they have to lock me in a dark room for two weeks. So mine only lasted four days. :) Actually, I think around that time the tradition officially changed to last four days instead of twelve anyway so I got lucky.

Aside from all the fame and glory of becoming a new Lakshmi Goddess in the family, I think this is the one rite of passage related to Newar culture that is the most obvious in the ways in which it subjugates women. Sure, we get all dolled up and adorned in all the reds and golds once again and we get all the attention in the world from our family and friends as they welcome us into the world of womanhood. But do we really have to be locked away and "purified" first before we can get any pats on the back? What exactly is so impure about menstruation? Not saying it's my favorite time of the month but I do bathe, you know. I understand that not all people are comfortable with the concept of natural processes of human bodies. If that's the case, why don't boys go through a similar 12-day lock down when they get their first wet dream? And people think girls are disgusting? Let's not go there.

What's more disturbing to me is that there are some remote places such as Achham, a region in far western Nepal, where they practice chaupadi, the ritual isolation of menstruating women (Gaesyl, 2013). Each month during menstruation, a woman is deemed so impure that she is completely ostracized and must sleep, eat, and wash outside of their homes in a stable or cave called a "goth." Even though this practice has its roots in Hinduism, many scholars believe that this ritual is a bastardization of the Vedic precept that women sleep apart from their husbands during their time of the month. But this area and I'm sure a few other still practice this ritual today. Moreover, these communities apparently believe that to discontinue this practice would result in a plethora of bad luck: crops would fail, animals would die, snakes would fall from the ceiling, and everything would end very badly.
So just because people want to get more progressive toward banning inhumane treatment of women, Ganesh might crack his whip on humanity? How convenient. I'm sure that's exactly why bad luck is exposed onto a community: because they decided to act with more wisdom and compassion.

Many girls find this ceremony to be a very exciting time in their life. It was exciting for me, too. I loved the idea of going into my room for a few days and coming out a new person. Like I'm in a cocoon going through metamorphosis. I go in as a young child and come out a transformed new woman. That's beautiful. I would love some time for self-reflection as I enter a new stage of my life and prepare for my teenage years and at the same time get treated like I'm the most special and precious gem in the world. But why is it that my purity has to be in question because my body is going through a natural change? If I can be praised and glorified for my ability to procreate and give life, why can't that include the process that I have to go through in order to prepare myself for that? Don't lock me away because you think I am dirty and then marvel at my strength after I emerge as a cleansed soul by your terms.
I don't blame those who go through Barah with excitement being the only emotion they are filled with and don't question any of the ritual significance and meanings behind what they are doing because our patriarchal society has done a marvelous job at hiding the intentions behind the ritual underneath the petticoat of actions that romanticize it.
The way I see it, you shouldn't need a ritual to purify a Goddess anyway.

Period.

Ihi: Marriage Divine

Ahh yes. I remember my first wedding like it was yesterday.

I was six years old and was the center of attention for two days straight (every kid's dream right?). I was all dolled up in a beautiful red sari with gold accents. My nails were painted red. I was actually permitted to wear lipstick for once. And I had more gold jewelry adorned throughout my body than you could rap about. Here's a picture of my six year old self with my father at the ceremony:

Cute, right?

That was my first time visiting Nepal after moving to the states four years prior. I imagine that most kids of immigrants are a bit reverse-culture-shocked when they go back to visit the motherland after some time in the new country. You get to see where your parents grew up, visit a million strange relatives that you didn't know you had, try different foods and hear a different language on the streets other than English, get married for the first time...

Wait, what?
Oh right! That was just me. Duh.

You think that's weird? Wait 'till you see what the groom looked like.

Here he is!

What a studmuffin, eh? In case you're wondering, that is a bel fruit. I know what you're thinking: "You married a fruit?" Technically, yes. Spiritually, no. That fruit is used as a representation of the Hindu God Narayan who the bride actually gets married to. So before you start snickering, let me remind you that I have had a divine union in holy matrimony with a deity. #Winning.

Before we address the question of "why" I think a vital question to address first is "how." How did these traditions come about? To understand traditions that are uniquely Newari such as Ihi, I think it's important to explore the cultural religious contexts. More than 80% of Nepal is Hindu with Buddhism being the next runner up at about 10% and Muslims, Christians and others making up the remaining population (Census 2014). Moreover, the Kathmandu Valley region which is where Newars are most densely populated is also where you will find the biggest concentrated populations of Buddhists. In fact, many Newars follow both Hindu and Buddhist traditions. Take my mom for instance. Growing up, I used to think that we were simply Hindus but then I realized that we have statues of Buddha all over our house. When I asked my mom about it, she said with great confidence, "we are Hindu Buddhists."

Um...okay.
I guess what she meant there is that there are beliefs and practices of both religions that she accepts and follows.

In contrast to this kind of duality in religious practices, other ethnic groups of Nepal who are staunch Hindus seem to be much more strict in their traditions and beliefs that have been passed down since ancient times that bind them in social obligation to continue. I'm talking about things like the early marriage system in which families marry off their daughters before puberty in hopes of lifting the burden off the family and attaining punya, or karmic merit (Bista, 1967). I'm also talking about the practice of Sati in which a woman is burned alive alongside her deceased husband as she is considered of no more value or status in society (Vaidya, Manandhar, Joshi, 2001). Of course, these rituals are very uncommon in present-day Nepal but they are still continued in very small percentages within remote parts of the country in certain villages. So before you go reporting these stories among headline news in places like the U.S. where Americans think that everything fed to them by the media is the law of the universe and is representative of other nations as a whole, do your homework.

But anyway, I digress.

What I am trying to say is that although the majority of Nepal does not maintain these traditional marital practices that directly put women in harm's way, there are rituals and beliefs that stem from those traditional Hindu values that are still in practice that reflect the continued underprivileged status of women in society. If you're a woman whose husband has deceased and you want to remarry, you may not get thrown into a fire, but you sure will get looked down upon by traditional members of society; or, if as a woman you are unhappy in your marriage and want a divorce, you're better off having a secret love affair. It may not be illegal to veto a marriage contract, but it is social suicide! There are so many unspoken but understood practices that bind women in Nepal to their unhappy or unfortunate situations that are tied to religious and cultural roots. For example, for Brahman-Chettris, marriage is a very spiritual act in which it is believed that your marriage and partner are both predestined (Bista, 1967). So if you don't like who your parents picked out for you, I guess the universe was just rooting for you to fail. Life sucks. Sorry.

This is where Newars are different. In order to prevent the loss of stature and the shame that accompanies widowhood as well as to enable women to divorce if they wish to do so, they established the practice of Ihi, the first marriage that a Newari girl experiences (Thapa 2008). A majority of Newars observe this symbolical arranged marriage of their daughters with a bel fruit before she ever marries a man. It is the general belief of Hindu and Buddhist Newar communities that a proper marriage with full rites can be held only once in a lifetime. Thus, any subsequent marriages, if any, are considered of only secondary importance. So a woman, if she wishes, can theoretically break her marriage with her husband by giving the gift of the areca nuts she received during the wedding back to him or by putting those nuts beside the dead body of her husband in the event of his death. Obviously, this is a very outdated way to end a marriage. Nowadays, a Newari woman can just flip the bird and the rest is understood.

When I first learned about the intent behind the ritual of Ihi, I felt very privileged to come from a culture in which my ancestors established a tradition that empowers me to divorce and protects me from widowhood. What a long line of progressive thinkers I come from. Way to be rebels and stick it to the man by creating a practice that does not place Newari women in a position of disadvantage like several other Hindu women in Nepal.

Upon further consideration, however, something didn't seem right.

Why is there a need for a ritual to give me a choice about my own life in the first place? And what exactly is wrong with widowhood? Why do I have to be "protected" from it? What is all of this saying about womanhood? And come to think of it, my Newari male counterparts certainly don't have to go through any kind of ritual that gives them such privileges or protection. They were birthrights from the very beginning! In fact, they have a very different set of rituals that they go through that we will get into later.

Furthermore, who says that performing this ritual will truly free a woman to divorce and remarry? According to a study that collected data via questionnaires from 62 women in Panga Des, a small Newar settlement, to explore the meaning of Ihi, most of the single women perceived these social customs as symbolic practices of Newari culture as there is severe discrimination against single women in real life (Thapa 2008). Widows who had gone through Ihi still had social obligations to their deceased husband's family and even suffered physical and verbal violence. And what are the chances of a young widowed woman being accepted as a bride by a virgin groom? Pretty slim to none. Thus, Ihi does not make it any easier for a widow or a divorcee to remarry, it just makes it technically okay (even though socially it's still not). Silly, right? Thus, this study speaks to the paradoxes that exist within the culture in terms of rituals that mean and intend for one thing but in reality have very different (usually negative) consequences for women. So while these little girls are being adorned with garlands and gold and worshiped as auspicious, empowered, and consecrated, just as a queen or goddess would be in what appears to be a rite of passage celebrating their coming of age and an initiation of certain rights, what this ritual is truly reflecting is the subordinate status of women. Furthermore, it is reinforcing it.

A very different point of view on the practice of Ihi is given in an article that was written for the magazine Hinduism Today in which the author went to Kathmandu as a Fullbright scholar to study Newar ritual practices and concepts of feminine divinity and was invited into the homes of friends there where she observed several rites of passages (Coon 2010). While her article gives insight into the significance, meaning, and symbolism in these practices, the conclusions that she draws from them is quite interesting. She discusses the central event of Ihi as a symbolic wedding in which the girl's father holds his daughter on his lap and gives her in marriage to a divine groom, making the ritual be not so much about a divine husband, but about a father and his daughter. Through Ihi, a girl enjoys full membership in her father's family and caste. I remember sitting on my own dad's lap throughout a good portion of my Ihi. The article then goes on to discuss the ritual as a celebration of the girl's gender and extracts the message of the ceremony to be one that conveys "a girl's person [being] powerful, generative, and good." I think the most interesting conclusions she draws of all are contained in her final account of her experience in observing the ceremonies:

"Perhaps that is why more than one Nepal-based Western father has had the ritual performed for his daughters. 'I felt so much pride in my daughters,' one said, 'and getting them all dressed up and doing the ceremony was a reflection of that.' Alexander von Raspatt, a Western scholar of Buddhism who is married to a Newar woman said, 'the Ihi and other rites of passage performed earlier have grounded the girls not only in the culture and religion of their mother, but also in her family.' For Ihi, like other Newar life-cycle rites, celebrates the development of an individual into a whole person, while at the same time weaving her into a sustaining fabric of familial and communal relationships."

A very different interpretation of this ceremony from an observing American scholar compared to a small settlement of single Newar women who have actually gone through Ihi. I think this incongruity speaks to differences of experience based on class and socioeconomic status. Personally, I think that both views can coexist but in their separate and respective realities. I imagine that within rural areas or smaller communities of Newar, the women who have gone through Ihi and are widowed or divorced do still experience discrimination due to negative stigmas, making Ihi seem like a very pointless ritual to them in terms of functionality. On the other hand, I'm sure that in bigger cities of Nepal, Newari girls who divorce or are widowed do not experience the same level of discrimination and negativity to the extent that women from smaller villages do. I would further argue that this is especially true of those Newars who live abroad such as the ones quoted in the Hinduism Today article. I think the last line in the article that attributes Ihi to the celebration of the "development of an individual into a whole person, while at the same time weaving her into a sustaining fabric of familial and communal relationships" sums up exactly how those Newars experience it.

The latter definitely is more in line with my own experience. I don't believe my parents took me to Nepal to conduct the Ihi ceremony strictly for the dire need to protect me from widowhood and allow me to remarry.
Trust me. If I really wanted a divorce, I would drop a husband like a hot potato. Ihi or no Ihi. So there was no actual "need" for it. But rather, it was for the sake of maintaining a tradition that makes us uniquely who we are. It is a practice that has been passed down for many generations. My mother went through it. My older sisters went through it. So it was inevitable that I must go through it, too.

For me, my Ihi was a symbol of the first time I felt spiritually connected to my culture and Newar background.

The Big Day(s)

I imagine that regardless of ethnicity, religion, or culture, almost every little girl has envisioned her big day. You know, the dress, the decorations, the flowers, the guest list, the whole shebang. We are taught that it is a very important day in a girl's life.

Everything has to be perfect.

So we practice by playing dress up in front of the mirror and trying on the over-sized attire of our maternal figures. We drive them crazy by smearing their expensive rose lipstick all over our faces and scuffing up their best party shoes as our 3-footed selves try to find equilibrium in 5-inch heels. And then we prance around the house dancing with our imaginary but totally gorgeous Prince Charming. It's not everyday a girl gets to be all dolled up with the spotlight on her at all times. It only happens once in a lifetime for crying out loud!--or so we are told anyway. If you're like me, you go through this whole wedding process not once. Not twice. But THREE times. Don't worry. I'm not planning on having two failed marriages. Who wants to pay for a divorce let alone two? Whew.

I come from a culture in which a girl goes through three weddings in her lifetime. The inhabitants of Kathmandu, Nepal are frequently referred to as the "valley people" or Newars as their aboriginal name. Newars are one of the many groups of people in Nepal who have their own unique language and customs that are distinct from other ethnic groups in the country. One of the ways that Newars distinguish themselves from other peoples is through the performance of two rituals called Ihi and Barah, the first two marriages. These rituals address two critical junctures in the lives of women, in particular those which must dramatically involve their sexuality and their relation with men. While Ihi and Barah reflect the influence of Hindu patriarchal responses to widowhood and menarche respectively, they also provide a ritual embodiment of a distinctly Newari attitude toward women.

The only question is: what kind of attitude is that? 

After extensive research on this topic in conjunction with deep contemplation and reflection on my personal experiences as a Newari girl who has gone through Ihi and Barah, I have landed on the theory that although these rituals celebrate womanhood and the coming of age, they are paradoxical in nature in that they seem to glorify young girls during these ceremonies while simultaneously reflect the negative attitudes held toward women in terms of widowhood and menstruation. Apart from a personal connection to the topic, I feel that this is one that is important to explore because girls and women who undergo such rituals should understand the meanings behind them. These rituals have a significant place among the lives of Newari women. As such, I would like to understand if these practices and rituals are in place to protect Newari women and uphold their sanctity or to place them in an even more disadvantaged social status than that of their male counterparts.

I invite you to join me on this journey of self-reflection in which I will explore these rituals and other related practices of Newari culture with a critical lens using a mixture of personal accounts as well as scholarly sources. Enjoy!