Tibetan Monks

The evening light shone fiercely through the narrow walls that form the congested city blocks of Thamel. Between the din of taxis and rickshaws crawling around the streets and the chatter of countless indecipherable conversations, I thought I heard the distinct sound of Tibetan chants.

Could it be one of the many music shops that blare out "traditional" music to appeal to Westerners looking for some taste of exoticism in Nepal?

No. This sound was different. The reverb was natural, the bass wasn't boosted out of proportion, and there were no fancy synths or drums to make it more "edgy." And it seemed to resonate from somewhere above.

I ran across the street dodging taxis and market vendors, and craned my neck up to make sure I wasn't hearing heavenly messages. Sure enough, the sounds seemed to be coming from the 6th floor of a nearby building. The owner of the shop just next door who I befriended a few weeks ago saw me staring up at the skies perplexed and approached me with a wide grin.

"Yeah - the monks pray like that every week up there. Its pretty cool, but they're so noisy... bang, clash. Thats how it sounds to me."

"Do you know them?" I asked.

"Yup. Come on up - I'll introduce you to them."

As I was stammering my reservations for interrupting a prayer session like that, he grabbed my arm and we were racing up a narrow wooden staircase up 6 flights of stairs. Off came the shoes, as they do in every Nepali household and following one of the monk's gestures I sat cross legged, back straight on the floor. I looked back and my friend was gone - huh... so much for an introduction. Not a word was exchanged because the chanting and banging of cymbals and trumpets was still going on.

The next 30 minutes were quite an experience! The group of a dozen or so monks were all reciting chants from small prayer scrolls in front of them. No two monks were reciting the same line and it was a beautifully ordered, yet seemingly chaotic expression of prayer cleverly disguised as song. I couldn't make a word of what they were saying - Nepali and Tibetan are of two completely different language families.

During my last quarter at UCLA, I took an interesting ethnomusicology course on the music of Tibet. Well, needless to say, it was such a different experience reading about Tibetan music and experiencing it in a full gale. It was almost like the difference between reading adventure narratives of people stuck in a massive snowstorm, tentbound for days, and actually experiencing the feeling of fear, confinement, and incredible discomfort for yourself.

All I could do was smile at the accommodating hosts for allowing me to sit in on their prayer session uninvited. I talked with the monks briefly after they were done and learned a lot.

Religion continues to perplex me. Shielded from expressions of religious life in California (I never went to church), I never quite understood the complex cultural meanings behind it. Here in Nepal, religion forms an important part of the everyday life of so many people. Temples and stupas can be found in nearly every city block and people's everyday lives are structured by a deep ritual significance. Although my current research interests are geared towards exploring issues of identity, power, and globalism, I certainly hope to learn more about religion in my adventures. Perhaps it will help me make at least a little more sense of what we're doing in this ocean of chaos called life.