The “modern” Teej songs revolve around the theme of party, enjoyment, sexuality, lewdness, greed for gold and desire for mates. Only a few sample citations will suffice to back up what I mean. Sex pervades in most of these songs. Let me begin with self-styled libertarian Komal Oli who first defiled the sanctity of Teej literature with her poila jana pam sensation in 2008. The line that also serves as a refrain gets repeated thrice which literally translated means “I want to elope, I want to elope, I want to elope.” The word poila is a social taboo and it has base implication in Nepali parlance. It is not just a woman running away with a mate of her choice. When a woman opts for poila, it means that she is too vulnerable to contain and control her youthful longings for mating and for which she needs a virile man to quench her sexual thirst.
As if that was too timid an assertion, Oli brought out another ballad this year: Nachaun hami disko ma Teej, let’s dance in disco during Teej. She says that with time things have changed and women should rock in a disco during Teej. She goads women folks to drink the “gift” of the age, the liquor and wine. More powerful than the song is its visual representation. Women in miniskirt, including Oli herself, sway to and fro, pouting their lips, exposing their glossy, creamy thighs, shaking their hips in seducing gestures and drinking wine and going wild.
Oli has found her faithful successors. These two years, many Teej songs have come out full of sexual innuendoes. In visual performance, damsels in red dance in front of the camera, their upper abdomen covered by a thin, red strap blouse, their navels exposed, their bosoms bubbling as they leap up and down and appealing the viewers with sultry smiles. Their smoldering eyes squint and the male artists, usually libertine looking fellows, pop out from behind and put their hands around damsels’ waists to which the latter cry out a seducing “aaah” and “ouch.” The sequence is so presented that one would feel these characters of the make-belief world are going to make love on the screen. Consider a song by Ramila Neupane and Khuman Adhikari for example. The girl laments; today’s my Teej fast, I cannot come to see you. The boy coaxes, you are the gardener of my heart, please come to see me in the evening. But, he warns, bheti chhoddina tirshahan nameti, I will not spare you without satisfying my desire.
Folk minstrel Bishnu Majhi sings hai mero phariya, which is perhaps one of the big hits of the year. The song announces “this sari of mine, I pull it up, it slips down, this sari of mine.” What will happen if the sari just slips down? Similar expression echoes in Shova Tripathy’s yo Teejama dhalkera nachinchha. A coy damsel in red declares: I am blushing as I have donned sari for the first time. I wonder what will happen if the sari slips down for I have not tightened it in the waist. In yet another song a woman, visibly contented for being complimented for her sensuality, croons: I have worn this sari and the youths are clicking their tongue and calling me chwank chwank chwank, totty, totty, totty.
When art and literature fails to represent the cultural niche of the age, they go into decadence. And when society fails to inspire aesthetics in them, it shows how society is degenerating. Explicit sexuality neither serves to enrich the cannon of Teej literature nor mirrors the spirit of the society. Time has come to critique this phenomenon.
The songs in review and their type, almost like verbal pornography, are not abundant but plentiful enough to adulterate the purity associated with the festival. They sound like sexually explicit item songs in the underworld Bollywood movies where filles are principally seductresses and their male audiences are passive voyeurs. In the era of postmodern literature, sexual undertones are granted poetic license. In fiction writing, they form an indispensable element but in the domain of religious festival I wonder how they should be deemed normal. More importantly, these songs do not constitute the part of Teej culture. They are not the kind a mother would like her daughters to revel in and sing for the longevity of their husbands. They are not the kind that husbands would like their wives to get addicted to. Worst of all, in their visual representation, a female body is appropriated to such an extent that it is an object only to be desired and devoured.
Teej is much more than women’s fasting and dar. Ideally, it is a cultural artifact associated with faith, belief system, religion and social health. A woman that earnestly keeps fast for the longevity of her husband is governed by faith rather than showmanship. One more important reason to celebrate it is that it has a history. Mythical Parvati’s fast for lord Shiva aside, Teej, a purely feminine domain until the recent times, is an occasion for married women to discourse their oppression at the hands of their in-laws and husbands. It cuts across individual and connects a woman with her parental home, her husbands’ family, her friends and peers. Maiti (woman’s parental home) has metonymic relation with Teej. Maiti is a last resort for women to take to if she has nothing else to fall back on. My grandmother’s favorite Teej song had maiti as a central idea: Phalame tai chha, didi tamako tai chha, hela gareta didi janchhu maita, I have iron and copper pan, if you do not regard me here, I will go back to my maita.
Chelis (daughters and sisters) come to their maitis and they have nice time with their parents. Maitis try to give them the best time possible making them eat as much and as delicious food as possible on the midnight feast of dar. When a cheli (a daughter or sister) cannot not come to maita on Teej or when maiti fails to fetch cheli, that causes maudlin feelings in both the parties. Chelis become heartbroken and maiti has to live with a sense of guilt for many days. Once in maiti they would assemble with the long unmet chelis of the neighborhood and sing of their pains, miseries and happiness if at all.
Teej songs are literary manifestation of this relationship. Sex, by no means, fits in this genre of songs. With the infiltration of salacity in this genre, religiosity and purity seem to be under threat. When art and literature fails to represent the cultural niche of the age, they go into decadence. And when society fails to inspire aesthetics in them, it shows how society is degenerating. Explicit sexuality neither serves to enrich the cannon of Teej literature nor mirrors the spirit of the society. Time has come to critique this phenomenon.
mbpoudyal@yahoo.com
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