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Sunkesari, a horror movie starring Reecha Sharma, which she is also producing, is being released on May 25. Sharma, who debuted as a supporting actress in the movie ‘First Love’ in 2012, is now one of the coun­try’s most popular and versatile actresses. She started her career as a model for various music videos, which earned her roles in TV serials. But it was the movie Loot—a highly successful crime thriller released in 2012—that marked a turning point in her career. Sharma was also a top-ten finalist in Miss Nepal 2007.

In your experience, how has the Nepali film industry evolved over time?

In some ways, it has developed a lot, but in other ways it has regressed too. Techni­cally we have evolved a lot. We may not be on a par with international standards, but we have started making wonderful movies. We’ve been successful in bringing back some of the audiences we lost. Also, our cinemas are no longer limited to Nepal because of the growing Nepali diaspora.

But, at the same time, unlike European countries where people visit movie theaters whenever they have free time, we haven’t developed a cinema-going culture. Many Nepalis still prefer Bollywood and Holly­wood movies, and they are unreasonably critical of Nepali movies, which has had a negative impact on our film industry.

Talking about the evolution of Nepali films, horror, traditionally, isn’t a suc­cessful genre in Nepal. What motivated you to make Sunkesari?

In the past five years or so, genres like comedy, romance and drama have flour­ished, which is a significant achievement. But, how long can we expect the audience to be drawn to these limited genres? The idea of establishing a new genre encouraged me. It was while watching ‘The Conjuring’ in a packed theater that I felt I wanted to try a horror movie.

Yes, there are various risks associated with this genre. I think the reason why the horror genre has not been successful so far is because we have not been imaginative. We cannot expect a movie to be successful just by having a ghost dressed up in a white sari wandering from one place to another while carrying a candle in her hand. (Laughs)

In Sunkesari, we have put in a lot of effort and have not compromised with quality. With the money we have invested in this movie, we could have made an extravagant film of another genre. I think this movie has various reasons to succeed but an equal number of reasons to fail. I sincerely hope it works, because if it does not, then it will be a long time before someone else attempts another horror flick.

Despite the relatively small size of the Nepali film industry, there are complaints that it lacks harmony. You were yourself recently involved in a bad spat. Why do you suppose that is the case?

It’s not that there is no harmony at all. Harmony does exist, but only among professionals who have dedi­cated their life to filmmaking. There are people—with lots of free time—who spread rumor just to create misunderstand­ing at a very personal level. It is a competitive industry and it is okay to dislike people but it is not okay to disrespect them.

Recently when I expressed my opin­ion about something I disliked, many people ganged up against me. They seemed to have forgotten that I am also a viewer and have opin­ions. In a public plat­form, compliments and criticisms are normal and one should not always expect compliments.

Finally, what purpose do you think movies serve? Is it just entertainment or should they also convey some social message?

Movies should always be made with a view to provide entertain­ment, because people take out time from their busy schedule to go to the theaters. But having said that, did mov­ies like 3 Idiots, Taare Zameen Par, etc only provide entertainment? They car­ried a powerful message too. When peo­ple left the theater, they had something to think about. That is what a cinema should ideally be: a mixture of entertainment and information. I would like to make a movie like that someday. But that is not what I have tried with Sunkesari. This one is all entertainment.

I was casually walking inside the premises of Sarwanam Theater in Kalika Marg, Kalikastan—waiting for a rendezvous with Ashesh Malla—when I saw a picture of him on the wall. His dream was written on the side: ‘As the dust of centuries pass over my country, let this theater heritage continue to remain a creative platform to tal­ents who will contribute to build a society where art and theater will flourish with rich human values’. I could barely make out the mean­ing at first but after a brief meeting with Malla, his vision became clearer. Malla, the pioneer of street theater in Nepal, is the founder and director of Sar­wanam Theater. A multital­ented artist, he is renowned for his poems, fiction and acting. Malla has won many prestigious awards like Sajha Puraskar, Musyachu Puraskar, Moti awards, etc. for his contribution to Nepali theater and arts.

Born in the eastern hilly town of Dhankuta in 1954, Malla spent his childhood in a rich cultural environment. In those days, every day in Dhan­kuta bazaar was like a festi­val with people performing dramas, reciting poetries and displaying various skills via arts and dance. Malla believes that his ancestors not only migrated to Dhankuta from Bhaktapur, they also brought along their culture.

“I never liked going to school. All I wanted to do was perform in plays and write poems,” says Malla, reminiscing about his early days. When he was eight, Malla wanted to perform a play but his desire was thwarted as he was denied a chance to work with the town’s senior actors. So he took mat­ters into his own hands; he assembled some friends and started doing impromptu performances around the town. His acts earned him praise and helped him land a role with the local performers. And thus began Malla’s career.

After graduating from college in 1974-1975, Malla became an active member of Dhankuta theater scene. By that time, he had many short stories and poems published in local newspapers. Encour­aged by his friends, Malla then wrote his first play ‘Tuwalo le dhakeko basti,’ which he completed in seven days. It was based on the story of two brothers who always fought with their father for property. The brothers were caretakers of Malla’s family farm.

The play, one of the first for which people had to buy tickets, remained houseful for 8 days, a record at that time. The popularity of the play boosted Malla’s ambi­tions and, with a troupe of 50, he came to Kathmandu, where the play was staged at the then Royal Nepal Acad­emy and was received with equal excitement by the audience.

“I had never seen such a big stage; it was bigger than the entire hall we had in Dhankuta,” recollects Malla. The audience included play­wright Balkrishna Sama and members of the royal family, all of whom were moved by his performance. “I felt like I became a huge theater star overnight,” says Malla. The play ran for a month. It was a huge achievement at that time when most productions ran at most for a week.

It was not all praise for Malla though. Famous author Bijaya Malla accused him of pushing the Nepali theater scene back by 50 years and suggested him to perform modern plays rather than traditional ones. “I had no idea about mod­ern plays and the critique inspired me to learn more about theater,” says Malla.

Malla decided to stay back in Kath­mandu and enrolled in Nepali literature department at the Tribhuvan University. During his stay in Kathmandu, he read many books on theater, which deep­ened his understanding of modern plays.

Malla began writing plays at a time when political par­ties were fighting the Pan­chayat regime. “I recall our country facing shortages and black-marketeering being rampant,” says Malla. “So we wrote a satirical play, whose staging was obstructed and the troupe was accused of ‘anti-government’ activities.

“I realized that autocracy restricted our freedom,” says Malla. “So I decided to raise voice against it through my plays.” The execution of his neighbor from Dhankuta for speaking against the govern­ment served as a catalyst for Malla’s revolutionary plays.

Many of his plays were obstructed by the police; some were banned or heav­ily censored. A 40-page play was trimmed to 10 pages. The administration had a close eye on him all the time because he was deemed a revolutionary. Renting a hall was no longer financially viable.

“It was then that an inner voice told me that I didn’t need a stage to perform and that a play should itself create a stage for the audience,” he recalls. He stood up on his chair and said, “A moment ago, this was a chair, but now that I am standing on it, it has become my stage.”

He realized that he could perform anywhere, and ‘Hamile basanta khojirako chhaun’ became the first play performed on the Kirtipur ground. It was the start of a new movement in Nepal.

It was 36 years ago that he founded Sarwanam Theater, which contin­ues to perform plays on the streets. He had the passion and dedication to continue even when faced with formidable obsta­cles. Looking back, Malla smiles and says “Sarwanam is a symbol of the past, the voice of our struggles and the passion we felt.”

Can a phone call change one’s life? It just might. Just ask Jigmee Wangchuk Lepcha.

The musician and music educator, now 41, who was born and raised in Sikkim, India. Lepcha started singing in Sunday school—the church choir—at the age of eight. He soon moved up to the senior choir, to which he dedicated his teenage life.

He then began exploring various genres of music before settling on rock, which he particularly fancied. Lepcha became part of a local band, CRABH, and started perform­ing in various shows, which earned him praise. The pos­itive response brought him even closer to music.

That life-altering call in 2001 came from his cousin, Daniel Karthak. At the time, guitar­ists Binayak Shah and Imam Shah were just back from the US after completing their study, and they had plans to work in the field of music in Nepal. Karthak showed them Lepcha’s musical demo. Impressed, they rang him up to invite him for a musical show in Kathmandu. Little did he know that the phone call would separate him from his hometown, perhaps forever. Reminiscing about it now, Lepcha smiles: “It completely changed my life.”

His plan, when he arrived in Kathmandu two months before the show, was to return to Sikkim after its completion. But life had other plans for him. Because he was born into a Christian family, Lepcha was requested to record a Gospel album by Karthak, and he had to stay back in Kathmandu for a few more months.

During the recording, yet another offer knocked his doors. Legendary drummer Dev Rana and his team of musicians were preparing to perform at the Hyatt Regency. Lepcha was invited for an audition from the front-man and immediately earned a three-month contract. Three months turned to six and six to nine—the contract kept being extended and so did his stay in Kathmandu.

“I was happy with what was happening, the music scene here was totally different,” says Lepcha. “Back home in Sikkim we used to perform rock songs only. At Hyatt, we also performed soft, com­mercial numbers which were comfortable even dance to,” he adds. Lepcha was earn­ing much more than what his band would make in Sikkim at the time. After nine months at Hyatt, he was given the responsibility to arrange con­tracts and the line-up for the in-house band.

“Things were going well but after eight years at Hyatt, I started getting tired of doing the same thing over and over again,” says Lepcha. “So I ter­minated my contract.”

Lepcha then joined a local band called Strings and entered Thamel’s music scene—which he says was totally different from what he was doing. “Performing in Thamel meant performing the songs I liked, the music I grew up listening to as a young kid—rock—which injected me with new life,” says Lepcha. Strings at that time was a very popular cover band in the Kathmandu circuit.

While at Strings, as a side project, he was also involved with The Midnight Riders for various events and concerts. “The Midnight Rid­ers made good music and it was already one of Nepal’s most sought-after bands, although the band members were in it just for fun. Things took a dramatic turn when the band members decided to get serious,” says Lepcha.

That was when Lep­cha started composing and recording with The Midnight Riders, which culminated in the release of their debut album “Yaatra” in 2017. After cutting ties with the cover band Strings, Lepcha, for the past eight years, has been the front-man for The Midnight Riders, wooing audiences young and old with his high pitched vocals and energetic stage presence.

Lepcha is currently work­ing as a music educator at a few schools in Kathmandu; even as he is still an active member of The Midnight Riders. Nearly 16 years ago, he had received that fateful phone call and was invited as a guest to Nepal. Now Nepal has become his permanent home. Lepcha is comfortably settled in Kathmandu with his wife, mother and a daugh­ter. He visits Sikkim once in a while to see his father and to keep up with the musical scene there

Running in its third year, Arogin Healthcare & Research Centre (P) Ltd is a team of highly qualified medical professionals who without hesitation call themselves the present and future of quality medical services in Nepal. Biplob Prasai of APEX interviewed Roshan Pandey, its Managing Director. Excerpts.

 What is Arogin Healthcare & Research Centre?

To be precise, Arogin Health Care and research Center is a group of companies. We have five companies associated with us, with our name. Arogin is a dream project of the team of 11 doctors from the All India Insti­tute of Medical Sciences, New Delhi (AIIMS). Doctors like physiatrist Dr Pawan Sharma, orthopedic surgeon Dr Sushil Paudel and Dr Ramesh Kadel, the only doctor in the field of geriatrics in Nepal.

What are the services provided by Arogin?

Out of many, I’ll discuss a few. In the field of physiatry, we have a product for stress management, which is the need of the hour. And in case of Dyslexia—a general term for disorders that involve difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters, and other symbols—we have doctors who are super specialized. We are associated with many school and Montessori and we run special clinics for children.

When it comes to orthopedic problems, people think pain is cured only by surgery. But there are other solutions. We have ‘Arogin Pain Man­agement Center’, and our own Phys­iotherapy center where we focus on curing pain via a combination of medicine and therapy.

And lastly, Dr Ramesh Kadel had a thought to establish a care home for elderly people in Nepal while doing his Doctor of Medicine (MD). His thoughts met our vision. As opposed to an old-age home, we established ‘Arogin Care Home & Home Nursing Service’ in Budanilkantha.

It’s a bungalow, and we designed the interior in order to hide medi­cal equipment as much as possible. We provide proper diet, nutrition and care to elderly people with love and affection. The concept of old-age home has been sullied a bit in Nepal. We hope to improve its image.

What are your objectives?

We hope to be the second opinion in Nepal. Here, people are misguided and confused about treatment. Doubts leads them to fly abroad.

People generally go to India or Singapore for treatment. But 30 per­cent of total doctors in Singapore are from AIIMS. Arogin provides the same doctors right here in Nepal. Moreover, highly specialized doctors are added cherry on top. In the field of dentistry, our doctor are attempt­ing something called maxillofacial surgery, which will be the first for Nepal. We are also starting primary dental services with three doctors, all of whom have Master of Dental Surgery (MDS) from AIIMS.

The gap between Nepal and other countries when it comes to treat­ment options is decreasing. We hope to start medical tourism in Nepal, which is easier said than done. But, in the case of hair transplant, this is already true, with our clients coming from as far afield as India, broader Asia and Europe.

Dissatisfied, Moon began looking for alternatives, new trails to the remot­est parts of Nepal that gave her the opportunity to explore uncharted territories, and that is how she stumbled upon the Great Himalayan Trail (GHT) in 2013. (Soon she would go on to become the first South Korean to complete the GHT high route.)

Giving experienced trekkers this unique opportunity was precisely the idea behind the GHT, which was launched in 2009 after five years of meticulous research, documentation and mapping. In the same year, Robin Boustead led the first team to complete the whole trail, in 162 days.

The GHT is a long-distance footpath that runs from Kanchanjunga in the east to Darchula in the west, cover­ing 1,700km and offering an extraor­dinary diversity of landscapes, cultures and experiences. The whole trek takes around 150 days to complete. On the way, trekkers walk through eight of the world’s 14 peaks over 8,000m, and cross passes at an altitude up to 6,000m. Covering regions like Annapurna, Sagarmatha, Dolpa, Manaslu and Langtang, the goal is to get a new generation of trekkers excited and get them exploring Nepal.

Routes

There are two routes that the GHT trek­kers can take—the high route and the low route. The former (3,000-6,000m) pass­es through some of the most remote vil­lages and high altitude valleys of Nepal. The latter has an average altitude of 2,000m, the highest point being the Jang La pass (4,519m). Taking around 95 days to complete, trekking along it means walking through dense forests and small communities and learning about their customs and religions.

Difficulties

Completing the GHT is considered far more difficult than climbing a mountain, as it calls for a very high level of fitness and commitment. Only a few as such have completed the high route.

“You must have three things—time, money and courage—to complete the GHT,” says Nima Dawa Sherpa, a Nepali trekker who completed the high route in a record 82 day. “Not everyone has all three at once. Trekkers don’t get to see human habitats for two or three days in a row and they have to carry basic items like food and tents themselves.”

“When we crossed the trail, passes were very narrow in some places, so we could only set up one tent and as many as 11 people had to sleep in it,” says Moon Seung Young. “And there were no good signposts to guide us.”

Setback

“The concept was based on a busi­ness model specifically drafted to ben­efit Nepal’s tourism,” says Pranil Upadhayaya, a certified trail man­ager. “But as the trail passes mostly through wilderness, it couldn’t gen­erate much business. Plus, the rigor of the trek dissuaded many.”

As such, the GHT was subsequent­ly divided into a 10-part network of trails, which includes Kanchanjun­ga, Makalu-Barun, Everest-Rolwal­ing, Helambu-Langtang, Ganesh Himal-Manaslu, Annapurna and Mustang, Dolpa, Jumla, Humla and the far-west. As it takes only around two to three weeks to complete one sector, more people got interested.

Even so, Upadhayaya adds, Nepal’s trails are not up to interna­tional standards. Four basic aspects of a trail are safety, environment, boarding facilities and information in the form of signposts. Most Nepali trails lack one or more of these.

He is not pessimistic though. “For the first time, we are getting trail standard guidelines in Nepal, and under the Tourism Ministry, a trail standard community has been formed,” Upadhayaya says. “The standard of Nepal’s trails is being gradually improved with the col­laboration of various national and international bodies”

“I don’t know why people want to write, even in this modern age,” says Peter J Karthak, when asked what suggestions he has for aspiring writers. “Compared with my days in the 60s, peo­ple have many more choices now,” he adds. “Growing up, we had very limited options. But I would ask today’s youth: ‘Have you lived your life fully?’ Because they have lived com­fortably, most of them haven’t lived life the way I did.” Peter John Karthak, 75, a musician, writer and journal­ist, has indeed had an eventful life. He was born in Shillong on December 12, 1943—when the Second World War was in full swing. Shillong was full of trenches and the Japanese were bombing the border town of Kohima. Karthak’s family decided to leave Shillong for Darjeeling, where he would spend the rest of his childhood.

In 1965, Karthak came to Kathmandu, where he spent the next 25 years as a copy editor, feature writer and col­umnist. He began his literary career by writing in Nepali: his first novel ‘Pratyek Thhaun: Pratyek Manchhe’ won the Sajha Puraskar in 1978. He later translated it into English and titled it ‘Every place: Every Person’ (2004).

‘Kathmandruids’, launched last month in Kathmandu, is Karthak’s latest and the first original novel in English.

“I started writing my first novel at the age of 25. I had experienced a few drastic things in Darjeeling before I left it and came to Nepal. So, I had the necessary ingredients for the novel,” says Karthak.

“If one aspires to be a writer, start writing. And to write, my motto is: don’t talk too much, listen more, read, look, see and observe. Such moody traits make a writer completely different.‘Kath­mandruids’ itself came out of a conversation.”

The beginning of ‘Kathmandruids’

I think it was in 2000 when I was on antibiotics and I couldn’t drink. So I was soberly observing every­one at an event I was attend­ing. Someone was sharing a story about his gang’s exploits and hooliganism in general. The story got me hooked. A week later, I wrote something based on what the person had said. That was how the story was born. And I gradu­ally expanded it throughout the years.

I got the story because I listened. I would’ve listened even if I had scotch in my hands (laughs). People talk about these things every­where. One needs to listen and observe.

The final phase of ‘Kathmandruids’

I always considered writ­ing a hobby. But when I convinced myself—maybe before the earthquake—that my story could be made into a novel, I began re-reading it. Every morning I woke up at 4:00 and by 4:30 I was on my laptop working. And I stopped at 6:30. By that time the house was awake and I was tired too. It happened for seven days a week for nine months—three seasons in Kathmandu. No music, no other distraction. In those quiet mornings, I just edited, re-edited, added and deleted. That’s how I had a novel before the winter. Then I started looking for publishers.

The unexpected

Initially there was no pros­pect of it being published. I approached many publishing houses and got rejected every time. Some didn’t publish works in English, and the one that did, didn’t publish liter­ary works. Then I met Biplav Pratik, who introduced me to Bhupendra Khadka. Inter­estingly, just after our second meeting, Bhupendra visited me with a publishing contract from Book Hill.

While that was very unex­pected, so was when CK Lal wrote a blurb for the book. Lal isn’t a good friend of mine, but I admire him. Close friends are partial towards you. I needed someone who was neutral, who could look at both the best and the worst things in me. I didn’t have an editor for my novel; I revised my manuscript eight times, all by myself.

When Lal wrote the curt blurb for ‘Kathmandruids’, what a relief I felt! Lal is a brilliant writer and a brilliant thinker, a direct and honest person who suffers no fools. He was my first reader and a very critical one. When he wrote that brilliant blurb, it was understood that he would also become my editor. Of course, he didn’t say it, but it’s automatic.

Plans

Another book of mine is coming via Himal books; actually, it should have come before ‘Kathmandruids’. ‘Nepali Musicmakers’ is a col­lection of my newspaper col­umns, the reminiscences of some top Nepali music com­posers and singers.

I have many plans, but right now they are all in my head. I have a very good idea, the ‘Druids of Darjeel­ing’. I can create a novel from the characters (the druids) living in Darjeeling despite what happened throughout those years there, like the Gorkhaland movement. But I need to live there for months and I need to manage my expenses. I have a philosophy that one’s work should pay for itself. If I get advance pay­ment, the plans in my head will materialize. Sadly, cre­ative writing doesn’t have a rosy future in Nepal

Contrary to general per­ception, the name Tum­bleweed has got noth­ing to do with “weed,” the band members joke. Tumble­weed Inc. came into being in 2012, detaching from its roots and tumbling down, like its name suggests. Inspired by international acts like RATM, Snot, Primus and RHCP, the rap-rock-funk band has given the Nepali music scene a taste of hip-hop lyrics backed by a groovy rhythm, all blended into catchy music for their albums Parichaya and Anyol. Sarad Shrestha on gui­tars, Suwas aka Ktm Souljah on vocals, Prashant Maharjan on bass and Roben Neupane on drums make up Tumble­weed Inc. Sarad, 43, leads the pack of young musicians in their mid-20s to make music that is one of its kind, at least in the Nepali music industry. “The difference in age between us is actually a benefit,” Sarad says, “It adds to the mixture of my old school choices to the new musical tastes the guys have. In music, age isn’t a problem, it rather enhances learning.”

Sarad, previously playing with The Axe, a popular pop-rock band, was in search of a new team to experiment the music of his liking and in due course met the band members of Tumbleweed, each coming from a different genre. “With Suwas’s rap and free style singing, we came up with a song on the very first day we rehearsed together,” Sarad recalls. “Such was the chem­istry between us.”

The band then released their debut album Parichaya, which gave hits like Geda, Bad­lido Samaj, Local Thito and Mr President—the crowd favor­ites anywhere they perform. Following their success with Parichaya, the band recently released Anyol, which was accepted by the Nepali audi­ence immediately with the title track of the same name becoming an instant hit.

In the early days, criticism kept coming their way. With hardcore metal music in vogue, their rap music with a blend of metal and funk left the audience questioning their musical existence. Such music negatively impacted the audi­ence’s minds, which made people perceive us in a wrong way, say the band members.

“There was a time when the crowd booed us—flipping the bird on our faces. But we took it positively, and gradual changes began happening. Now, they cover our songs and sing with us.”

Interestingly, most songs of Tumbleweed, which now has released two albums, were made on the spot while jam­ming. “The lyrics are based on the struggles and experiences of a common man,” says Ktm Souljah, the band’s lyricist. Earlier, the band wrote lyrics that had 50 percent English words; now it’s down to 10 percent. The band has trained its focus on the Nepali audi­ence. Moreover, it moved from performing underground to performing mainstream. Tum­bleweed Inc. has evolved.

The frequency of big events has gradually declined, says the band. The original music creators have lost their space in the growing market for live singers. “As an inde­pendent artist, it is difficult for us to get a big platform, even though we deserve it,” says Sarad. “We barely get spon­sorship deals.”

After the release of their sec­ond album Anyol, the band toured 10 cities in the coun­try without any sponsors. Yet they have no complaints. “We managed to perform well and had a great experience,” says Sarad. “We know the situation will only improve, since it is pretty good now.”

The band, which usually performs in Kathmandu and has also toured eastern towns like Dharan, as well as to India, Australia, the UAE etc., says music alone is not a sufficient source of income. They give the example of doctors in pub­lic hospitals who also work in private clinics to supplement earnings. “Income from music has declined in general, but at the same time, live singers are doing pretty well performing in bars and restaurants,” says Sarad. “It also depends on one’s standard of living.”

Tumbleweed, in the near future, plans to tour India and the US, while also focusing on regular jam sessions and continuing with its music creation.

“We hope music lovers remember us as good musi­cians and give us construc­tive feedback,” says the band in unison. “Also, we request our listeners to be physi­cally present at our concerts and encourage independent artists like us”.