–Henry Miller
For Nhuchhe Bahadur Dangol, his actions at the most appropriate time showed him the way. Growing up without a mother, an indifferent father, realization dawned on him early that if there was anyone he could count on, it was himself.[break]
Interested in music and dance from a young age, Dangol revealed that he started playing madal when he was just three. He shared that while other kids played marble, he would spend his afternoon at the Narayan Temple in Ason with a madal.
“Folk singer and poet Dharma Raj Thapa used to sell his books nearby and would come and sing along to my beats. On one such occasion, he handed me one paisa. That was my first income,” recalled the 63-year-old who would later go on to host children’s shows in Radio Nepal with Thapa in the 1950s.
An endearing person, thanks to his chatty nature, and ready self-effacing laughter, his untutored reactions and his insistence on sharing his life in lengthy chronological order, Dangol’s lucid accounts of pre-Hippie-era Kathmandu filled with coronations of kings, entertaining monarchs and dignitaries, rubbing shoulders with music legends is something out of a period drama.
He bursts into rambunctious accounts of how he was awarded the title of best dancer during the coronation of King Mahendra at the Phohora Durbar, now American Recreation Centre on Kanti Path.
The newly crowned king literally picked the eight-year-old and said that it was one of the best performances he had seen. But with the prize money and a memorable photo with His Majesty, one of his prized possessions, he also had a nasty fall from the stage which broke his back and would go on to alter the course of his life.
“My dancing days were over with my injured back and although I continued teaching various dance forms, music became my primary vocation, and hence started my lifelong relation with dhimey and madal,” shared Dangol, Lecturer of Nepali music at Tribhuvan University.
Belonging to a Newar family and growing up in the 1940s, traditional dance and music was an integral part of his life, and which would eventually become his identity.
And since his father, Nucche Man Dangol, was also into music, it was not long before the junior Dangol became a part of the Nasa Khala music organization established by the scholar and artist Prem Bahadur Kansakar in the 1950s.
It was during his Nasa Khala days he got to participate in musicals, religious performances, and performed to a highly appreciative circle at Singha Durbar. Dangol also met other people who would leave indelible marks in Nepali music – tabla player Indra Lal Shrestha, singer/composer Nati Kazi Shrestha, singer Tara Devi, to name a few.
“The Nasa Khala days, followed by Radio Nepal, and working under Bal Krishna Sama at the Sanskriti Bibhag (Department of Culture) and eventually landing the position of lecturer at Tribhuvan University brought me many friends and financial security,” shared an emotional Dangol whose life before steady income was about the basics, where struggle was more commonplace.
However, they are a thing of the past now. But off late, it is the struggle of a different kind that plagues the ageing percussionist, the kind that threatens to wipe away his identity, along with the traditions passed down through generations.
“The government has done nothing whatsoever in preserving the musical heritage of the country. After I die, I’ll be reduced to a handful of ash, and with it the music, my years of experience will vanish,” lambastes a misty eyed Dangol, who off late has this urgency to teach as much as he can.
During the 1960s when Angur Baba Joshi added Nepali music as a part of the study course at the Master’s level, Indian music covered 70% of the course and Nepali music only 30%. He himself had to earn a degree in tabla from the Allahabad Sangeet Vidyalaya, India to sustain his job.
“I have no qualms about learning to play tabla, but given a choice, I would’ve preferred to pursue degree in dhimey or madal. But the course wasn’t available then and four decades later it’s still the same.”
Proud of his ethnic identity and deeply loyal to his Newar heritage, Dangol shared that he has 50 students in Wisconsin University, USA, 40 in Japan, five in France and 10 in Switzerland who call him regularly to shift his base to their part of the world but every single time his answer has been a big “No.”
“I taught my brother and now he’s in the US teaching music. I could’ve got the same perks but I feel my presence is necessary here in Nepal. Most of my friends have passed away, and I feel my own days are numbered. But I’m not going anywhere until and unless I put traditional Nepali music firmly at aster’s Level,” shared Dangol, who along with Gopal Yonzan, researched and co-wrote books on folk music and created the Department of Folk Music at Padma Kanya Campus in Kathmandu.
“I want to produce artistes who know their heritage and can pass it on to the new generation. Five of my students have gone around the world, spreading our music.
That gives me hope but it’s not enough,” adds Dangol who takes regular class at Nepal Music Center, Pingalasthan, and has helped create a curriculum in music for upto class 10.
Between bouts of optimism and pessimism, his premonition of Nepali music’s bleak future does make sense.
“A Newar funeral procession is incomplete without Nakhi, an instrument whose melancholic sound is a must for performing the last rites of an individual. This is now a thing of the past. Seriously, how many even know about it today?”
He feels if things remain unchanged, it won’t be long before one has to make a trip to Japan or some other country to see the instruments that were once staple in every Newar tole and back alleys.
It is this fear and passion for music that keeps him going. His rusty back might ache, his asthma may hinder his drumming, but Dangol is always ready to teach, share his experience and talk about his heydays.
A collection of anecdotes and bits of wit that inspire, motivate and amuse, Dangol shared that Bollywood musician RD Burman was so impressed by his dexterity with madal that he used it in his famous song Hum Dono Duniya Chhod Chaley.
However, one of his most pleasant memories is performing with 48 madals and Nepali drums in Japan, which were later put in a Tokya museum.
If Dangol takes joy in performing for audiences, he also carries similar sense of play within him. Firmly in his sixth decade, he takes his work but not himself seriously.
Wanderlust at heart, the maestro boasts that his travel itinerary includes most of the cities of Europe and Asia.
He fondly remembers his trip to China with the Chinese prime minister when he was just ten, and then there was the performance in London on the occasion of Prince William’s birth.
It was then that he performed with multiple madals for the first time ever, 22 in total, and got compliments from the Queen herself, personally.
Over the years, personalities such as Udit Narayan Jha, Sukmit Gurung, Mithila Sharma, Saranga Shrestha, Pabitra Subba and many other illustrious names in the Nepali music world have learnt from him, including the late Queen Aishwarya.
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