Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Who ate my goat?

Nepal, March 18 -- A stroke of luck one afternoon took me to an ordinary patch of ground in Kathmandu Durbar Square-three old men were picking up pebbles and pieces of clay pots for a leisurely game of Baghchal. As one of them skillfully drew the symmetric lines of the game on the stone road, a crowd began to form. "I used to play this game when I was at school in Rautahat," said an inquisitive onlooker, who happened to pass by. "It is such an interesting game; I'm drawn in every time I see it played here in the streets," he mused.

The square was filled with people-tourists were busy admiring the architecture, while their guides hurried with explanations. A six-year-old joined in, and looked curiously at the pattern laid before her. She failed to understand its purpose, despite a concerted effort, and so quickly disappeared back into the crowd.

"We don't have work at this age, but Baghchal works our brains," said one of the old men. Work or play, the game sparked the excitement of the older men as it progressed. "Are you trying to strangle my baakhri?" asked one playing the goat. "Don't worry, he will just send it to the hospital," joked another, who joined the group. The circle got bigger and more diverse by the minute-a ragged alcoholic stood casually beside a well suited man, and the old and unemployed joined the young professionals. Engineers and police officers had neglected their duties to watch the game. "We find this game charming, but hardly have time to play it. Besides, not many people play it in the streets these days," said engineer Mohan Shahani, who savoured every moment on the pavement.

There were days when all the nooks and corners of Thamel would be flocked by enthusiasts squatting around a game of Baghchal. These circles were a familiar sight even just a decade ago, but they are rare on today's streets. Players of Baghchal are long gone in this part of the city. The game board and its tigers and goats instead sit untouched, like inert souvenirs, on the shelves of curio shops. With Baghchal players being a rare sight these days, the feeling arises that the game, which originated in our own country, is losing its significance as a community activity. The state of the government bodies associated with the game mirrors its fading glory. The Nepal Baghchal Association, established in 1981, is now near dysfunctional. "The association just exists for namesake; all the players have dispersed as all of them are old now," complained a staff member who declined to be named. This dispersal of people from the association, it seems, came as a consequence of bad bureaucratic management. The National Sports Council apparently hired managers lacking both knowledge and interest of sports. "Nobody is interested in this game; the Sports Council appointed people who have no interest in sports at all-no wonder the association turned dysfunctional," he said.

This incident might have affected the inclusion of Baghchal in the bi-annually held national games. And like the long hiatus between the third, fourth and fifth national games, which were held in 1986, 1999, and 2009 respectively, Baghchal vanished from the list of sports after the 1999 games.

The absence of Baghchal in the national games may not have had a significant effect on street players, but its official decline reflects its waning significance as a part of Nepali culture and society.

Nowadays, Baghchal can be played on the internet and tutorials are even available for those looking to brush up skills or learn them for the first time. But such a community activity, one that adds to the vibrancy of public spaces, is not done justice when played virtually. The decline of Baghchal is an unremarkable instance of traditional activities failing to weather the passing on from one generation to the next. And another casualty of our modernising world, where the more we adopt technologies to make our lives easier, the more we retreat from our communities.

But there are still those Baghchal veterans, like the men I encountered, who hold onto the game and the sense of community it provides. Seeing them may be a rarer occurrence these days, but it makes taking the time out to watch one of their games and chat with them that much more special. The time to sit down and join them is now, before the game dies with them.

For any query with respect to this article or any other content requirement, please contact Editor at htsyndication@hindustantimes.com

Copyright Kathmandu Post brought to you by HT Media Ltd.

Provided by Syndigate.info an Albawaba.com company

No comments:

Post a Comment