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Although the “Jhilkey and the Company” band has not been in existence even for six months, it feels like it has always been a part of the undercurrent of Nepal music. Playing an unlabeled genre of hard-hitting, raw music in closed venues, JATC is one of the few torchbear­ers in Nepal of the ‘DIY ethic’ that started on the streets of London in the early 70s in the form of the anti-con­sumeristic punk culture. In Nepal, underground bands have been adopting the ‘DIY ethic’ since the late 90s and generation after generation of young musicians have given continuity to the non-com­mercial genres of music and their shows. The band, however, does not think of itself as totally punk; neither does it choose another other single genre to label itself. JATC’s music, according to band members, is certainly inspired by pro­to-punk legends like The Stooges and MC5 but not con­fined to a single genre.

It all started for JATC when Steve Dewan, the band’s founding member who takes the job of lyrics writing, singing and playing guitar, came back to Kathmandu after getting an IT degree in Bangalore.

Dewan wanted to make music only when he was back home. When he finally got here, he chose to start a band with like-minded musi­cians instead of opting for a 10-to-5 job.

Dewan’s first contact was Bishal Hang Rai—a multi-in­strumentalist who can play guitars, drums, keyboards, and ukulele but handles bass duties for the band. Dewan then got hold of his younger cousin Siddhartha Upreti, also a multi-instrumentalist, to do the job of a keyboard player and singing backing vocals. Drummer Dipson Narsingh KC, the only member with a formal music education, was roped in last, and together they formed the Jhilkey and the Company.

“We got together and started playing in the jam room and quickly gelled with each other’s style despite vast differences in individual musi­cal exposures,” says Dewan, the front-man. “We’re more rock n’ roll Rock with punk vibes.” As its name suggests, JATC is a fun band to listen to. You don’t hear them sing poetic lyrics over complex musical compositions. What you hear with JATC is simple, straightforward rock n’ roll with lyrics that are meaningful yet unpretentious.

“I’m quite a contrarian and this passes on to the band as well,” Dewan adds. “What­ever the ongoing trend is, we do the opposite.” Most of the mainstream music in Nepal is dominated by acoustic gui­tars playing similar rhythm patterns, Dewan thinks, and hence JATC will not be using acoustic guitars in its recordings or live perfor­mances. Its guitar tone is all-analog, cranky, loud and natural, something many mainstream recording artists would refrain from.

As for other sounds, JATC creates music that comes straight from the band-mem­bers’ heart. They play around with guitar riffs and drum beats, selecting the best of them for composing songs. With varied influences, the sounds do turn omnidirec­tional but the common influ­ence of rock n’ roll and punk always guides them home.

“Most of our songs are impromptu creations that talk about contemporary issues,” Dewan says, explaining how he wrote the infectiously catchy “Kathmandu Sahara” from his experience of riding around the dusty city on a scooter. Then there’s another song called “Chinese Chor” which was written following the incident when some Chi­nese stole millions of rupees from ATM machines.

For now the band is in the mixing phase of its debut EP titled “Jhilkey Fire” that will only have four songs includ­ing “Malai Kei Audaina,” Nilo Suitcase,” “Panchiharu,” and “Jhilkey Fire”. The rea­son for releasing a four-track EP instead of a full album is that the band members do not have much studio expe­rience and they want to experiment with the EP first for better future output. “We already have 10 songs ready but it will be sometime before we record them in studio,” Dewan informs. “Also, for a new band like us, budget is an issue.”

Most of JATC’s production expenses have been gener­ated through merchandise sales and DIY gigs where they sell door tickets.

A little input from the family and a month worth of Rai’s salary have also been invest­ments. As for the returns, the band feels it’s too early to calculate at the moment. For now, with its active social media accounts, the band wants to get to as many lis­teners as possible and create a mass following.

Q. What’s an opinion you hold that most people would disagree with?
A. Money can actually buy happiness.

Q. What are you proud of but never have an excuse to talk about?
A. My ideology.

Q. A Nepali singer you would like to collaborate with?
A. Jagdish Samal.

Q. Which country would you like to go for a concert tour?
A. Japan.

Q. If you could pick a day to relive, which day would it be?
A. The day I stepped on stage for the first time. I was 8-year-old then.

Q. You were star-struck when you met?
A. Hari Bamsha Acharya. He is my idol.

Q. What’s one superpower you would not want?
A. Superpower that King Midas possessed of turning everything he touched into gold.

Q. How would you like to be remembered?
A. As a person with a golden heart and a golden voice.

Q. Your favorite venue to perform in?
A. Anywhere with an audience who listen to me keenly.

Q. Your favorite genre of music?
A. Eastern classical and Jazz.

I like to plan ahead. I try to schedule work and play for the coming week, or even further ahead. Frequently this doesn’t work out. Nepal has a very different sense of planning from me. In fact, it seems to run on a different clock than me. Forget that 15 minutes ahead of India, Nepalis seem to be at least 30 minutes behind Scottish time! Indeed, sometimes Nepal is days behind Scotland. So that’s why I find myself sitting here on a Wednesday afternoon completely caught up. I have been running around like a headless chicken for the past two weeks, as everything is ‘urgent’. And had expected to continue to be frantic for the rest of the month. But here I am, up-to-date. Or should I say, here I am waiting. And I am not very good at waiting.

For example, while I had nothing to do over the Dashain/Tihar period except hang around the gym, pool and at my ‘local’ 5 star hotel bar (friends know what I’m talking about) I could have been more productive if others had planned ahead for more than just their Dashain shopping before the festivities began. You would think I would be used to this by now, but nope. Somehow I always believe that the phrase “I will get it to you tomorrow”. And I forget to ask, “which tomorrow exactly?”

Then there are the events that never start on time. So by now I have come to realise that the advertised time, even if printed on an invitation, is not the real starting time. Even I have learned not to arrive at the given time. But still I seem to arrive first. Or because I am busy at another event I assume I will be too late for something that starts at 8pm. Its only later, I see the live feed on Facebook, where introductions are taking place at 10pm! And then I think I could have been there after all.  

I have been brought up to think it rude and impolite to be late. I would never dream of turning up two hours late to anything without a very valid excuse. It annoys me still when others do this. And as for the ‘too much traffic’ excuse, well excuse me, when is there no traffic? How difficult is it to start off earlier when you know full well the traffic will be heavy? Do you think there are no rush hours in other countries? Yes there are, and the commuters build in extra travel time at peak times. That is called forward planning. I know these words are very unfamiliar so let’s all say them together—“forward planning”. 

Recently however there has been glimmers of hope. Plane passengers get annoyed having to wait on the tarmac for a VIP to arrive. Drivers also now get impatient having to stop for a cavalcade driving through town. Bike riders have been seen to just push on through regardless.  

And what about places like the yoga studio I (infrequently) attend? Classes start and end on time, even with the majority of the attendees being Nepali. Are they a different breed then? I have to admit I am now sitting here looking out of the window trying to think of other places and situations where things start on time. I am failing to come up with anything. Cinema? Well the pre-show adverts might start on time but there are still those dozen or so people who come in just as the main show is starting. Public transport?  Don’t make me laugh! Private offices? Recently I was in my bank at 9.55 and the tellers were not at their positions, despite the fact the bank opens at 9.45. So probably not. 

Anyway, I’m heading out in two hours, so I had better start to plan my preparations…

“I’ve done everything in the movie industry except for saying action and cut [directing]. I can’t do that as I don’t have an education. There was no one to take me to school when I was a child,” says 49-year-old Singe Lama, narrating his life story full of struggles in an easy and affable manner, as if no problem can wipe the incessant smile off his face. Lama, a successful art director turned film producer who’s given hits like “Jatra” (2016), “Hari” (2018) and the recent “Jatrai Jatra”, has a fiction-like story of his own. For his close ones, his truth is painful as well as inspiring. 

Born into a small family in the Tamang settlement in Chilime, Rasuwa, Lama lost his mother when he was just three months and he has no recollection of her. He was then raised by his father who, as fate would have it, also departed when his was around 7. As an orphan, Lama had to start working from an early age for survival and quit school. “The only thing I got from school is my name,” he says, again with a bit of laughter mixed voice. “I had a different name back then which I can’t recall. My grade 2 teacher didn’t like it and changed my name to Singe. That was the year I had to quit school.”

An orphan in a rural village without roads, the only option for Lama was to work as a helper on the highway being built at a day’s walk from his village, and that was his home for a few years. He started with helping in the kitchen then gradually moved to carrying loads and as he grew up and discovered he could run fast, he took one of the most dangerous jobs around. Why? It paid him a little extra than his daily wage of Rs 25 and also earned him chicken for lunch. Lama became what he calls a “bomb blaster.” He was in charge of lighting the fuses of explosives that were fitted under huge rocks to shatter them. “It was dangerous, but the extra money and chicken were always welcome,” he says. 

Then, at the age of 15 or 16, Lama decided to come to Kathmandu to try his luck here. He remembers it was 1986 and he paid Rs 18 to buy himself a bus ride here from Trishuli. With no education, no financial backing, no family and no trade skills whatsoever, the following years were filled with trials and tribulations as he switched from one job to another, trying to settle in this strange city. “There’s nothing I didn’t do back then. From peddling small things in the streets to laboring in construction sites, from putting up the Maoist posters in the beginning of the revolution to running a canteen, I’ve done it all. I’ve seen every inch of Kathmandu,” he says proudly, now seated as the center of attraction at a posh restaurant in the same city. “Life was fun back then. I lived for the day with no worries of the future. You know, I even managed to learn karate and became a coach in Jhapa for a couple of years.” 

It was in Jhapa that Lama had his first tryst with the film industry. He worked part time as a projector operator and usher at a local theater. And when he came back to Kathmandu, an acquaintance introduced him to Nandu Adhikari, a popular art director at the time. “Nandu dai took me in as I was a skillful handyman by then and never said no to anything,” Lama says. “He taught me everything about set designing and art direction. Unfortunately, he got into an accident and died soon.”  

But this time Lama stuck to his vocation and soon he was a sought after man, designing sets for dozens of films, videos, ad shoots and TV programs. He recalls doing his first film all by himself in 1999. And not only did he design beautiful sets, he also worked in the lighting department as well as dress-designing. There was just nothing he wouldn’t do. 

In the course of working in the industry and getting to know many faces behind it, Lama grew close to Pradip Bhattarai, an assistant director for the MaHa studios. That’s when the idea of making a film got into him and Lama put together the theme of “Jatra”. With Bhattarai as the director, Lama raised enough money to finance the film with the help of three other partners. 

“I didn’t have any cash savings but I had created a name for myself by then,” says Lama. “That worked and investors supported me in cash or even kind.” Jatra was a huge success in Nepal and overseas and made double the investment. So Lama’s career as a film producer took off in 2016 and with consecutive hits, he hasn’t had to look back.

“But the pressure now begins,” Lama points out. “Most of my life I have lived carefree without much commitment. I’d earn for the day, sleep at night, and then start earning for the next day again. I had no expectations from people. But now I have an identity and know people look up to me. This feeling is entirely new.”

Lama then reveals his plans for his upcoming feature film titled “Ke Ghar, Ke Dera?” with director Subrat Acharya. The final script is almost ready and most of the cast has been roped in, he informs. “It is an organic story based in Kathmandu. I hope people like it as much as they liked our previous movies.”