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After nearly three decades of reform efforts, the parliament passed a liberal abortion law in 2002. This granted all Nepali women the right to terminate their pregnancy without regard to their present or past marital status. Women were granted the right to terminate a pregnancy of up to 12 weeks without anybody’s consent. In 2005, this law was challenged by Achyut Kharel, a lawyer. He argued the law discriminated against men, as a woman could terminate a pregnancy without her husband’s consent. Nepal’s Supreme Court dismissed this case after the Kathmandu-based Forum for Women, Law and Development (FWLD) convinced the court that a woman’s human rights would be violated if spousal consent was required for abortion.

Nabin Kumar Shrestha, an advocate and program manager at FWLD, says it had to do with what women go through during a delivery. “From what I have heard, some women give birth relatively easily while others endure such pain that they faint a couple of times when they go into labor. Even if a tiny percentage of women die during delivery, lives are still lost,” he argues. He therefore thinks that it should be a woman’s choice whether to go ahead with the delivery or to abort.

Shrestha says when we talk about reproductive rights, a phrase we commonly hear is ‘My body, my rights’. “To drive home why this is important and make men see the pain that a woman goes through to bring a new life on Earth, they must attend deliveries,” says Shrestha. He thinks it is important for a husband to be present during a delivery.

“At least now, urban Nepalis have started having only one or two kids. But some communities are religiously bound to avoid contraceptives. So they produce many children, and men usually have the say in it. But if the men could appreciate the pain their partners endure, the scenario might be different,” he says
Nepali law is currently silent on whether men should be allowed into or barred from birthing centers. Each hospital or maternity center has its own guidelines. Shrestha recalls the time when his wife gave birth naturally 20 months ago, and he was not allowed to enter the birthing center. “In fact, no visitors were allowed,” he says.

However, some hospitals in Kathmandu such as Norvic and Prasuti Griha (Paropakar Maternity and Women’s Hospital or PMWH) allow men into the birthing rooms.

Encouraging men to see
Established in 1959, PMWH is a government-owned hospital that provides most of its services for free. It has seven beds in its birthing room. Curtains are used in the room to maintain a semblance of privacy. A sign on the door reads: “Only husbands and female visitors are allowed in”.

Asha Devi Prajapati, head nurse at PMWH, says that only after a birthing room was opened in 2007 were husbands allowed to enter it, but only in case of a low-risk normal delivery. (Earlier there was no separate birthing room, only a general labor room where
women delivered babies.)

As many as 60 deliveries take place every 24 hours at PMWH. Only 12-15 are low-risk normal deliveries.
Dr Jageshwor Gautam, Director of PMWH, says that in the labor room where women are kept right before they give birth, men are not allowed to stay for lack of space. (They can get in just to pass medicine and food.)

Parbati Shah, who gave birth to a baby on June 11 at Prasuti Griha, wishes her husband was there with her in the labor room. She felt she would pass out and her back hurt continuously. “I wanted someone to massage it. But visitors were not allowed in. The room had about 60 women, all of whom were in similar conditions,” says Shah.

A nurse beckoned Puleshwor Majhi into the birthing room when his wife Kalpana Majhi gave birth to a baby boy on 24 June at PMWH. It was the first time he saw a baby being delivered. “This is my second child. I held my child even before his mother did. She was writhing in agony. I was filled with empathy,” remembers Puleshwor.

When asked if he would be there again with her if they have another baby, he ruled out a third child. Kalpana said it was really hard giving birth, but Puleshwor’s presence made it easier.

Nurses at the same hospital estimate that only around 65 percent of the men agree to witness the birth of their baby. Even though they call the men into the birthing room, most try to get away saying they are scared. Others say they get dizzy when they see blood. The nurses say women generally feel positive and give birth faster when their partner is present. They have witnessed men fainting at the sight of a baby being born in the birthing room. “We get confused as to who we should attend to,” they joke.

When Apsara Tamang was about to deliver a baby on June 24 at PMWH, her husband Bijay Tamang was called into the birthing room, but he did not go in. “I thought someone experienced should be there during the delivery, so I asked her aunt to be there instead. I am a man. I wanted to be there, but then I was outside managing food, medicine and other essentials,” says Bijay. Apsara says she did not mind whether or not Bijay was present in the birthing room.

Understanding her pain
Norvic is one of the most expensive private hospitals in Kathmandu, where a normal delivery costs Rs 125,000 on average. Dr Achala Vaidya, head of the department of obstetrics and gynecology, says they ask a pregnant woman if she wants any visitor while giving birth. “The husband understands the wife’s pain and his respect for her increases when he sees her giving birth to their child,” says Vaidya. She adds that the presence of both the partners during delivery makes the moment truly amazing and unforgettable for them.

“A woman feels supported when her partner is there to pat her, wipe her sweat and bring her water. She feels mentally stronger and can go through the painful process more confidently,” says Dr Vaidya. She has been with Norvic for 14 years, and her experience tells her that a woman usually wants her husband to be present while she goes into labor, and that his presence gives her some comfort. And often husbands also demand that they be allowed to witness the birth of their child.

However, during her earlier stint at Prasuti Griha, she hardly saw any husband making such a demand. “I saw that men usually took it for granted that their wives will produce a baby. They had the perception that their wife has to give birth somehow,” she recalls. Dr Vaidya thinks it should be made compulsory for fathers to attend normal deliveries.

 The Guthi bill that was tabled by Minister of Land Management, Cooperatives and Poverty Alle­viation Padma Kumari Aryal was met with strong protests, especially by the Newars of Kathmandu. The bill proposed to regulate all religious sites, nationalize both private and public guthis, and ‘better manage’ guthi lands and assets.

Following the protests, the gov­ernment withdrew the bill on June 18. Still, a peaceful demonstration was staged on June 19 at Maitighar Mandala, demanding that the gov­ernment scrap the bill altogether. Nardevi Guthi estimates more than 100,000 people from different eth­nic groups of Nepal took part.

Among the many castes within the Newar community is Jyapu. Jyapus (“competent workers” in Newari) have rich traditions. Their pottery work and unique traditional music enrich the Newari culture. If the Guthi Bill was endorsed, Jyapu guthi operators worry, it could have vastly altered their way of life that they have preserved for generations.

Satya Narayan Dangol, 65, presi­dent of Nardevi Guthi and vice-pres­ident of Jyapu Maha Guthi, says that one reason guthis were formed, centuries ago, was to manage land used for religious and cultural pur­poses. Different guthis serve differ­ent purposes. There are 60 guthis in Kathmandu under Jyapu Maha Guthi, with around 200,000 mem­bers. Even under these 60 guthis, there are smaller guthis that handle different tasks. For example, under Nardevi Guthi, there are 24 guthis that have direct contact with the government for the celebration of 24 compulsory Jyapu festivals. Sim­ilarly, there are other Jyapu guthis outside Kathmandu.

Each Jyapu guthi has a unique responsibility during the celebra­tion of festivals, including organiz­ing bhoj (banquets). Dangol gives an example of how the festivals would have been affected had the bill passed. Jyapu Maha Guthi orga­nizes ‘Devi Nach’ in Nardevi Chowk in Kathmandu during Ghode Jatra. This dance is performed for 36 hours straight, attracting locals and foreigners alike. The next day, Jya­pus pull a chariot, taking it around the core areas of Kathmandu valley to celebrate Paanchare (Nardevi Jatra). “How would the government have managed the logistics on such a scale?” Dangol asks.

"How would the government have managed the logistics on such a scale?"

Satya Narayan Dangol President of Nardevi Guthi

Don’t need no permission

Then there are small Jyapu guth­is whose only work is to provide drinking water to visitors during Rato Machhindranath Jatra in Patan. Had the Guthi bill passed, Dangol wonders if the government would have provided contractual work to serve drinks during festivals, as he is certain small guthis would have dissolved. Moreover, assets such as chariots, idols, and jewelry used in various cultural dances would have all belonged to the government. And guthi operators would have required permission to use them, which Dan­gol says would be unacceptable.

Like other Newar communities, Jyapus also have their own Kuladeva­ta, Clan God, which is passed down generations and is usually owned by guthis. Dangol says that it is infuriat­ing to think that his pious Clan God would also have belonged to the gov­ernment. “I would have to seek the government’s permission to pray to my own Clan God. This reminds me of what Mao Tse-tung did in Chi­na,” he says, in what had become a common refrain of Newari protes­tors. Chairman Mao had launched a destructive campaign against the ‘Four Olds’—old customs, cultures, habits, and ideas—as part of the Cul­tural Revolution in the 1960s.

Ashish Maharjan, 26, who also hails from the Jyapu community, says, “The government has no right to touch our holy and treasured rit­uals and idols.”

Instead of preserving culture, Dangol says the government had been bent on trying to control guthi lands and assets. He adds that funds for the “Bahra Barse Devi Naach”, which takes place every 12 years and is organized by Nardevi Guthi, used to come directly from the Finance Ministry. He points out Jyapu Maha Guthi received Rs 200,000 for the last time in 1969 through King Mahendra. Since then, the govern­ment has refused to provide money and so the guthi operators are man­aging funds themselves.

Guthis, such as Sana-Guthi, Raj-Guthi, Si-Guthi, which play a vital role in keeping community spirit alive by organizing communal meals and providing solace to families who have lost a member, would have also been affected.

Suggest, don’t suppress

Dangol says Si-Guthi currently has Rs 4 million, collected by orga­nizing a biannual bhoj. This bhoj takes place on the day of Yomari Punhi (on full-moon day in Novem­ber/December) and then exactly six months later. Members have to pay a minimum amount to organize the bhoj, and any excess money they contribute goes to the Si-Guthi fund. The money is later used when some­one from a family belonging to the guthi dies. Guthi operators visit the house and manage all death rituals. Dangol wonders if the government officials would have been willing to visit the families of the deceased and how they would have managed the intricate rituals.

Spokesperson of Ministry of Land Management, Cooperatives and Pov­erty Alleviation Janak Raj Joshi says the bill was tabled to make guthis more systematic and organized. He adds that given the widespread con­cern over the bill, the ministry, in any case, would take into account every­one’s concerns and interests before moving forward.

Dangol says if the ministry wanted to make guthis more systematic, it could have offered suggestions to existing guthis “instead of trying to replace a system that has been in place for generations”. The nature of guthis in Janakpur or Dang should not, he adds, influence the govern­ment’s decision on managing guth­is in other regions of the country. He thinks the bill would have been more appropriate for a place like Dang, where landless peasants have worked the lands of others for gen­erations.

But that’s not the case in Kath­mandu. “Jyapus in Kathmandu have donated a lot of lands to guthis. For example, my forefathers gave some of their land to their children and the rest to various guthis,” says Dangol. He thinks that the govern­ment should solicit advice from the local governments before proposing a similar bill in the future and that each province should have a differ­ent set of laws governing guthis.

Had the bill passed, Dangol says, it would have affected not just Newar guthis, but also those of other eth­nicities. Dangol adds that guthi oper­ators should reflect on why guthis were formed in the first place and try harder to meet those needs.

 The month of June is inter­nationally recognized as the LGBT Pride Month. The month-long celebrations are aimed at fighting for equal rights, increasing social visi­bility, and celebrating sexual and gender diversity. June was selected as the Pride Month to commemorate the Stone­wall riots of 28 June, 1969, following a police raid in Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in New York City. These riots would became an impetus for Pride marches.

In Nepal, no such declaration of Pride Month has been made and queer events have only recently started garnering social attention. Nepal nonetheless has a vibrant queer community. Culturally, cross-dressing and transgender people have always existed in Nepal. Transgender women (called ‘metis’ in Nepali) were traditionally believed to ward off evil spirits at wedding ceremonies or at childbirth. Among the Gurungs, there is a tradition of men dressing up as women and performing the maaruni dance. 

In 2007 Nepal government legalized homosexuality, cross-dressing and began allowing a third gender option on documents. And yet, twelve years on, discussion on gender and sexual diver­sity is not only scarce but also prejudiced.

In order to change this state of affairs, a few organizations host rallies for LGBT aware­ness and social inclusion. The Blue Diamond Society (BDS) first organized the Gaijatra International Pride Parade in Nepal for Nepali LGBT community in 2010. Held in Kathmandu, it also saw par­ticipation from various coun­tries and was led by Sunil Babu Pant, the first openly gay member of the Nepali parliament.

Bhakti Shah, an LGBT activ­ist with the BDS, says, “This march is aimed at providing a comfortable climate for any LGBT individual to open up, dress any way they like and to celebrate themselves.” The rally has also attracted some criticism because it is observed on Gaijatra, the day people from the Newar com­munity remember the dead by having young boys dress up as cows. This mingling of the religious and the ‘profane’ has sometimes resulted in open conflict.

As a result of this criticism, other organizations have started hosting their pride marches at other times of the year. For instance, a Queer MOGAI Pride Parade is held in Nepal on 5 May—MOGAI stands for Marginalized Ori­entation (sexual/romantic), Gender alignments (identity/ expressions) and Intersex bodily variations. Another pride parade was organized by Mitini Nepal alongside the international One Billion Ris­ing campaign in Kathmandu on 14 February this year. In addition, this year the Queer Youth Group organized a Queer/MOGAI/LBTI women pride to encourage women from diverse sexual orien­tations, as well as intersex and transgender women to come out.

The Blue Diamond Society’s Shah wants the government to formulate and implement inclusive policies that give equal rights to the marginal­ized LGBT community.

After homosexuality was decriminalized in Nepal in 2007, the 2015 constitution was also praised for its inclu­siveness and LGBT-friend­liness. Article 12 states that people have the right to citi­zenship with their preferred gender. Article 18 prohibits any discrimination based on sex, gender or sexual orien­tation. It also makes provi­sions for special protections provided by law and gen­der neutral terms instead of previously used ‘male’ or ‘female’. The constitution allows gender and sexual minorities the right to access public services.

However, as Shah points out, the new Nepali Civil Code that came into effect in August 2018 identifies marriage only between opposite sexes. In addition, it states that no one should marry or help someone marry with a lie or lies based on the ambiguity of sexual organs or lack thereof. Many activists have spoken against this and deemed the code unconstitutional.

The laws are also not accommodating to non-cis­gender people as it might be to cisgender people (whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex). Activist Rukshana Kapali, a transgender woman, was denied admission into Tribhuvan University for her Masters’ degree. Kapali had different names in her School Leaving Certificate and +2 certificates, which were prepared before and after her coming out respectively. Shortly, the hashtag ‘#Trans­ExclusionistTU’ was trending on Twitter.

Such difficulties of queer people is exactly why Kapali stresses the need for Pride celebrations. “Pride makes us visible. While it is a moment for queer people to have fun, it is also an opportunity for our voices to be heard. At least people get to know that we exist. ”

Social acceptance is still problematic. Kapali says most people of the older genera­tion find it hard to understand queer identities. Even among the younger generation, she says, bullying of queer peo­ple is rampant. “However, I am hopeful that things will change with increased visi­bility, social awareness and advocacy for queer accep­tance and equality.”

 The first thematic production of Karman, “Klesha: Ananta Pida Ko Jal”, tries to unearth the reasons for our misery and tribulations. The play, based on rural Nepal, has chapters of the epic creation of sage Valmiki, “The Ramayana”, but without its religious aspects.
 

Writer Pratikshya Kattel tries to explore the multiple ways Ramayana fascinated her. She says she used to ask herself: What caused the bloodshed? Why did Lord Ram and Ravan play the game of life and death? Kattel arrives at the conclusion that the only reason for this hostility, and in fact all hostilities in the world, is misery.

The set features a typical Nepali terrain and the characters dress in daura suruwal and guniyo cholo. The play starts as a group of characters descend on the stage with flaming torches in their hands, accompanied by the sound of live music.

The villagers are livid with their Mahanta Devdatta (Pratik Maratha) for his unjust decision against their common daughter Kaanchi (Ruju Sharma). Kaanchi is a young Nepali girl who falls in love with Devdatta’s brother Anuj. A section of the play displays their love story; their story ends on a sad note as Anuj deceives her when she gets pregnant.

In fact, Anuj beats Kaanchi so badly that she miscarries. The pivotal character of Kaanchi does not have many dialogues and is yet able to amply express her agony through her phenomenal acting skills and expressions. Plotting on a revenge against Devdatta and his family, the villagers kidnap Bhumi (Surakshya Panta), Devdatta’s wife, who is completely unaware of what is happening around her.

The play also comprises of humorous characters like Balram (Swapnil Ghimire), who becomes the veritable Hanuman from the epic as he acts as a messenger for Devdatta and Bhumi. Vidhan (Toofan Thapa) and Jitbahadur ( Jivannath Paudel) time and again light up the mood of the auditorium.

Klesha is all about the agony of Kaanchi, the selfishness of Anuj, the ignorance of Devdatta, the innocence of Bhumi, the fury of Rudra, and the joyfulness of Balram. In the process of taking revenge, the villagers get trapped into a vicious circle. The 1h 45mins play at Mandala Theatre runs till June 23, at 5:30 pm, every day except Mondays.