Notes on Vir Charitra, Nepal's first novel

First impressions

Just last month I was writing about how I am so knowledgeable about the western fantasy imagination because I read so much of it, and don't know much about its Nepali counterpart because no one writes that way, and here it is, sakshat, the Vir Charitra. I have an extensive knowledge of the western fantasy world, its creatures, its lands, its maps, its costumes, its jewelry, its weaponry, its naming traditions, etc etc. And I was wondering, if one wanted to write something similar for Nepal, how one would begin researching for it. And here is Vir Charitra, Nepal's first known prose novel, a repository full of resources and information about all things Nepali fantastical imagination. And it is so so different from my preconceptions.

I don't even know where to start. Maybe from the fact that the beginning is so gross that it will make you puke: the hero wanders into a masaanghat and the brains of a dead man fly into his mouth, and he eats his fill and burps, and that's when the masaan devi emerges from the corpse and says: that's how we know you are the chosen one.

Now let us compare this scene to some of the most famous and beloved fantasy heroes' destiny revelations.

Harry Potter: The dark lord marked you moments after you were born. You are the chosen one.

Lord of the Rings: Your uncle passed on the cursed ring to you. You are the chosen one.

Wheel of Time: The wheel changes its pattern around you. You are the chosen one.

His Dark Materials: You can read the aletheiometer. You are the chosen one.

Vir Charitra: The brains of a dead man flew into your mouth. You are the chosen one.

Hehehe. I guess you can see why I see Vir Charitra as absolutely ludicrous until this point. Yes, this is a good point to start. This is where, at page 5 or 6, I quit reading this book twenty years ago, because I was like, what rubbish? Kasto JPT????

Introduction

But something happened this last month due to which I took it up again. A friend of mine, a most avid reader, took up the book and started talking about it. The way he talked about it framed it in a completely new way for me: for example, he said the book was so explicit that it made him feel like a prude. I was intrigued all over again. Even after we laughed off the brains incident, he told me that the book gets more and more fascinating. So I decided to give it another go. And I realised that I, as a reader, had changed too in the last twenty years. ack then I was simply searching for a good plot, and I apparently didn't find it in this book. But today, I was not necessarily reading for enjoyment and not necessarily looking for a plot anymore. I am looking at it with critical eyes. I want to know what the first Nepali novel looked like, and more specifically, what the Nepali fantastical imagination looked like 120 years ago. So here is what I am finding:

Vir Charitra is believed to be Nepal's first prose novel. It was written in 1903, and I first came across it in 2003 when its centenary celebration brought it into the media. It was not published back in 1903, the copies that we have today are collected from handwritten manuscripts which were passed around by the writer Girish Ballav Joshi. A Kaviraj or healer by profession, Joshi employed लेखनदास to copy his novel and pass it around. Word has it that his creations were the hot cake among the literate crowds in those days, which means in the palaces, mostly. I have been trying to find out more about him, but there is very little available online.

Lush imagination

But I do have his book now, and I can see that his imagination ran quite high, especially in terms of geography. I am finding landscape to be one of the most interesting parts of this book. Early on, the hero's family wanders into a cave, which then closes automatically, leaving them in the dark. But then, lo and behold, a golden door handle is to be found at the back, which opens into a moonlit garden. The garden is one of the most beautiful I have seen described: flowers, bushes, plants and trees bathing in the moonlight, full of streams, bridges, seats, and even tables with pen and paper to write, with gazebos and floating lamps and bijuli ko raushani. Electricity did not exist in Nepal back then, but it does here. I guess this is one of the reasons the book qualifies as science fiction. More reasons include modern transportations like trains, ships, taxis and hot air balloons, tools like photograph, telegraph and heliograph, and allopathic drugs like क्लोर्फारम chloroform and others that I cannot find the English originals, though I am sure they exist: बेलजिनिया, लाबिन्टर (lavendar?)….

At some point one of the characters enters a tree, which then leads to the sitting room of the garden's owner. Yes, the large and majestic sitting room exists inside a tree. At another point, the characters see a 'ghopte,' which they open with a handle like a karahi's, and then descend some steps down. We will come back to ghopte, but now let us go further underground where there is a lake, and a house in the middle of the lake. Many stone statues surround the lake, and the way to get to the house in the middle of the lake is by hitting on the fists of the stone animals, which causes the pillars by the lake to drop and form a bridge! There are many such mechanics at work here, which wouldn’t be out of place in the Harry Potter Universe: a door guarded by an iron snake, which you have to pull the tongue of to open. Bears with hands that you have to prize open, or else they give you the hug of death. A space where you can see neither the floor nor the sky, but is lit with all kinds of lights to show the way! And at another point some people enter the mouth of a boa, find themselves facing a door, and open it to enter a sunlit garden! Yes, inside the stomach of a huge boa!

At this time, I was quite dizzy with all the descriptions, but in a happy way. Wow! Such imagination! Such beautiful places. And this is just the beginning, there is more to come. When I talked about this, Girish (my husband Girish Subedi, not the writer Girish Vallabh) asked if Vir Charitra could be made into a movie or TV series, and I was like NO, the producer would go bankrupt just building these sets! Hahaha. For now, just suffice it to say, that the landscaping is just SUPERB.

The architecture he describes is just as marvelous, even though, again, I don't have the vocabulary to fully visualize it. There are streets with gas lights and electric lights at every ten feet, चारैतिर सुर्की पिटेको लाल सडक, बजै पिटेको, big पटांगिनी, magnificent palaces - some three stories tall and some seven stories tall, lavishly decorated sitting rooms, and halls and bedrooms and walls and premises. It would again, take an archaeologist to recreate them all, and I wouldn't mind sitting with a dictionary all day and finally being able to visualize all these glorious locations.

Now let us go back to ghopte, and from then on, to the words and language of this book. This ghopte I assumed to be the door of a trapdoor, which is raised like a dome and has a karahi like shape and handle. But I had to read it a few times to get what exactly it was. And this book is full of such words which are so obsolete today that they sound like a foreign language, but so descriptive that I enjoyed reading them again and again to figure out what they mean.

There are also so many foreign words, imported as they are or with alterations, that it's interesting to see. For example, there are the Urdu मजलिस, खारेज, तहबिल्दार, तहखाना and जनाना just as they are, and the English Bench and couch morphed to बुरुच and कोच।

Sensory details

These words show the kind of language being spoken at the time: how being fancy meant including a smattering of English and Urdu. And the writer uses such words to overwhelm the reader with sensory information about the times, for which I am much grateful .For example there are the musical instruments: झाँज, मृदंग, डफला, डम्फु, बाँसुरी, कर्नाल, बेनु, अर्गन, हार्मोनियम, बाछैबाजा, सितार, गितार (the last few again an attempt to be fancy, in a scene full of विदेशी मेम)। The decorations: लालटिन, लम्फा, झार, फानुस। the clothes, or maybe it is fabrics: कुचिन पोशाक, भुलगा ओढ्ने, गौनको चोलो, पटासीको फरिया, दरेसको फरिया, साटनको चोलो, ढाकाको पटुका, गंजफ्रासको मोजा, अब्रुको पोशाक, कलकत्ते फूलदार मीम जुत्ता, तास, किनखाप, बारात, तम्बुका लुगा। I don't understand most of these clothes or fabrics, it would take a lexicographer or textile researcher to make sense of them. Some women are seen wearing असली ढाकाको चोलो and रागीदार सुरुवाल, I wonder what that combination looks like, and they all seem to be wearing socks for some reason. Still, the highlight of this scene for me was the रबरकोजुत्ता, apparently the height of sophistication at the time.

Let us also look at the ornaments, jewelry, and the way different kinds of women did themselves up: चाँदीका बहुमुखी कल्ली, कपलामा लामो चुल्ठो अघिल्तिर लट्काएर मोतीका झुप्पा भएको धागो लाएकी, कपालमा मुगा जडेको सुनको फूल, छातीमा टिक र मुगाको माला, सुनको बाला, बम्बैको चुरा, असर्फीको औँठी र मुगाको औँठी, मिमकपाल बाटेकी, अलख झिकेकी, कानमा हिराको यारिङ, छातीमा पन्ना र हीराको कण्ठा, असल झलकदार जालमी पोते, हीराको हावादारी औँठी। I am grateful that someone thought to document the costumes of those times, or the costumes that were thought to be fashionable. Because I am sure not all of them were worn by the general public, and some the writer used because he identified them as fashionable or expensive.

I was going dizzy just trying to imagine all the women dressed in these various ways, and on top of it, there were also मेमfrom Belait, France, Germany, Italy, Roos, and then स्वास्नीमान्छे from Bhot, Chin, Japan, Malaya, Burma, Ceylon, and also, Parsi, Naagarni, Marhatteni, Punjabini, Kashmiri, Madhesini, Tharuni, Bangalini and Odeseni. We can clearly see who the writer respects, who he thinks are equal, and who he thinks are below him.

And most importantly, in the book there are the fantastical creatures: जोगिनी, वीर, बेताल, मसानदेवी, शिर-फोडा, छौँडा, भूत, प्रेत, पिशाच, सहकडा, डंकिनी, याक्षिणी, शाकिगणी… with roles and descriptions of most of them. The dankini has tusks and can light eerie blue lights from the tips of her fingers, the joginis and the betaals dance in the graveyard, and the main antagonist drinks from a human skull. There was a scene with बाघेछौँडा and स्यालेछौँडा that had me in splits on the floor because the names are so ludicrous! There I was trying to imagine Agnidatta wrestling a couple of silly faced tiger and jackal headed humans with tails, and I just lost it! And oh, the cats and dogs talk and act as messengers!

Let us also discuss the titular वीर at this time. Like any normal contemporary reader, I thought Vir Charitra meant that story of a brave man, Charitra meaning story as in Krishna Charitra or Ram Charitra. But apparently not. Vir is not used to indicate the main hero here. Vir is listed among the fantastical creatures surrounding the main antagonist Nidhini, and the virs appear in other scenes from time to time. The common characteristics of the vir is that it has the body of a man, but the face of another animal, for example a tahluwa vir who has a black, hairy, body, another vir who has the face of a cat, another of a dog, etc etc. I really need to look at the dictionary: does vir mean some kind of fantastical creature primarily, and then evolved to mean adventure, etc, and only came to mean brave later?

(P.S. Note: A friend of mine has informed that vir is a kind of fantastical creature that is found at graveyards).

Anyhow I am glad to find that we have as fertile a fantasy world as westerners, and dankinis with tusks can rival hippogriffs for ferocity and virs can be more fun than vampires.

Also, I was lamenting in my last post that I know more about western naming traditions than about ours, and here I see fascinating naming traditions. I see how the names of princesses are often two words, are grand, and are often linked to majestic things like gold or palace, or beautiful things like flowers and spring seasons. We have here Kanak Prabha – golden dawn, Basanta Bahar – coming of spring, etc. And I am also relating this trend to names of princesses in other books. For example in the novel Maharani there are Vishwa Prabha - dawn of the world, and Mahal Vasanta - spring of the palace.

Some of these names like Basanta Bahar show how the courts were influenced by Mughal courts - names like Pyari Jyan, Sukha Jyan, Naina Bahar have Urdu influences. I forgot other names because the women are so boring, hehehe. We can see how the men's names are derived from gods – Agnidatta, Bishnudatta, Jwala Prasad, and the rest.

Portrayal of women

And now that we have dealt with the distractions of the details, let us focus on the main point: the plot. I could go on for pages about what the story is about, or I could say one sentence and be done with it. I will choose the second option because I have already gone on for pages and the plot would involve putting those elements in the story. So in short, it is a hero's journey, where the innocent hero has a lot of adventures and emerges victorious. The kinds of adventures he has and the things he sees, you have already read.

And this is where we leave the realm of enjoyment and enter the realm of the problematic. For Vir Charitra, like most male books of its age, is problematic in the obvious way: it is sexist. And to add to that, it is also racist, classist, and casteist.

Let us look at them one by one. I was writing last month about how all the western fantasies are the same: they are all about defeating the dark lord, and it is usually a take on Christian mythology, with the dark lord modeled on Mephistopheles. And I was like, how boring, how tiring, isn't there any other plot for fantasies, can't there be any other variations?

Apparently, not, because the alternative is misogyny. Here in Vir Charitra, the hero's task is not to defeat the dark lord, but the dark, sexually predatory, lady. And the 'sexually predatory' is the key part, something it takes from earlier South Asian fantasies that are vaguely stirring in my memory but that I cannot find the exact names of right now. Gulab Kawali ko Phool I remember, but another one, something like Madhu something, I cannot remember.

In the absence of a dark lord, the hero has to destroy the lascivious dark witch in these stories, and that is what he is doing here. The antagonist is portrayed as an old(ish) woman who ensnares men and "enjoys" with them for a few days before turning them into stone statues. I am wondering if Girish Vallabh knew of Medusa.

And the sexism, mixed with casteism, is rampant all over the book. For example, the main antagonist has assistants who are often known only by their last names: Tharuni or Danuwarni. And with penchant for adding 'ni' at the end is so strong – which I find offensive because it assumes that a woman needs an extra suffix while the man does not. And furthermore, the ni at the end most often means that the woman is the wife of that man, so there is no name for a woman born into that caste: for example Bahuni means wife of Bahun, Tharuni means wife of Tharu, etc, so here it is not even clear if the Tharuni and the Danuwarni are Tharu and Danuwar women or wives or Tharu and Danuwar men. Anyways, his penchant for the 'ni' is so strong that he calls a Bengali Doctor Bandopadhyayani Dakdarni, and even finds a name for her ending in 'ni': Kadambini.

So this Kadambini Bandhopadhyayayni Dakdarni is a formidable character, as are most of the female characters in the first part of the book. In fact, it is the men who are seen only in assistant roles: like the virs who seem to be merely mercenaries, as opposed to the Dakdarni who is knowledgeable about all kinds of medicines, and knows about where to get them in Kalkatta, and can travel between Kalkatta and Nepal in a jiffy. Even the antagonist's husband is a pale, watered down character: always sitting inside his kutiya and smoking ganja and easily hoodwinked by the hero. Compare it to the antagonist Nidhini who is mistress of the beautiful gardens and the तिलस्मी architecture, has her virs create an entirely new landscape for her every day, presides over a large gathering of artisans who sing and dance, enjoys it in the company of exotic mems, and lures random attractive men into her lair with (directly) sexual propositions. Her flamboyance reminds me of Ravan, and like Ravan, it is sad that she falls to the moste boringe hero. Hahahahah. Because it is the hero's task to destroy this matriarchy and this haven of scheming and conspiring and dangerously free women.

The hero is now another character. He is often seen in only langauti because he is climbing in and out of windows, hehehehe. Oh by the way this is not the guy who eats the brains (Vishnudatta) but his brother Agnidatta, there are two heroes. Anyway, Agnidatta, when a woman lovingly prepares a meal for him full of mithai, roti, and achar, he goes and says, hey lady, what is the achar made of? I don't eat garlic or onions or shallot. I nearly died laughing at this expression of Brahmin identity. Now this is the true South Asian fantasy, where the characters have distinct castes and behave accordingly. And the reason he rejects Nidhini's advances? Brahmins do not have extra-marital affairs before they are married. I had to pause and take a deep breath to unscrew my eyes before I could understand this. So you need to be married to have affairs? And you are censured if you have an affair as a Brahmachari, but if you are married, then परस्त्री गमन is fine? And kid me not, this is verified by the hero's mother!!!!

There are many more instances where the Brahminism shines through, like when one of the characters cannot be given a death sentence because he is a Brahmin, so he is simply jailed, or when one of the characters refuses to marry with proper rituals because jaat mildaina, and instead does gandharva vivaha. At another instance, the Brahmin is a guest somewhere where his host has arranged for pooja samagri for him, and he goes and asks: यो कसले पूजा गरेको सामान हो? हामी त अरु जातले छोएको ठाउँमा पूजा गर्दैनौँ।

Thank you Girish Vallabh for giving us a tour of the convoluted Brahmin point of view that no logic can defeat, even today.

The last three sections

The novel is divided into four sections, and all the things I have said until now fall in the first section. After that I lost interest. Because by then Agnidatta has acquired four chelas and each of them go on their own adventures and Agnidatta goes on his own adventures and collectively they engage in about a hundred wars in the span of about fifty pages. Not that I dislike war literature, I devoured the war scenes in Mahabharata, and later in Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, and of course I survived Game of Thrones. But, here everything happens just too fast, like उसले उसमाथि चढाइगर्यो अनि विजय प्राप्त गर्यो or हारेर फर्केर गयो or धडबाट शिर अलग गरिदियो or ब्रह्मास्त्र, क्षेप्यास्त्र (note the mention of the super ancient and super modern weapons in the same breath) सबै प्रयोग गरेर एकछिन मै फौज तितर बितर पारिदियो। Bro needs to work harder to make war scenes more engaging. However, to his credit, he never loses sight of the plot, despite the mind boggling array of new locations, events, networks, and villains he sets up, with names like, Ritthe Jhankri, Suna Jhankri, Sano Bhut, Sandamarka, and the like…. Consistency in plot is often lacking in earlier Nepali novels like Bhramar, but here, even if the reader is confused, the writer has it all on point, which is a testament to his skill.

A Nepali sci-fi fantasy

Having said that I found only the first part fascinating and skimmed through the rest of it, let me quickly point out the salient points of the rest of the plot, and then go to a conclusion about the overall book. There are more enchanting landscapes in the latter parts: from the hi-fi Ulleri city with clock-towers and banks, presses and cinemas, buses, trams, Victorias, and Aerodromes where people fly in and out of town in hot air balloons complete with drivers, doubles lanes with fancy shops where Nepali, Bengali, Kristan, Francis and other peoples shop, riot police march for fear of conflicts, soldiers are parading around, people are indulging in leisure sports like volleyball and hockey and tennis and polo, and even more people are leisurely sailing in Modiganga below. While these are simply background, other technical inventions like photograph, telegraph, and heliograph are used as plot devices, which probably did not exist in Nepal then. And Agnidatta is often flying in and out of towns in hot air balloons, once even flying an army in 500 balloons, a technology that did not exist anywhere in the word, then or now! The Nepal he imagines is also quite cosmopolitan: Joshi imagines Bengali babus manning the trains that run from Ulleri and Angreji babus Wile and Elliot having trade centres in Pokhara.

I also enjoyed the descriptions of male villains' looks. In the first part, you only see the women's clothing described in such loving detail, and I was thinking, how male-gaze-ish. But later on, as such indigenous villains like Ghantakarna and Lakhe and Tukucha Danav and Vajradatta Danav and Dobate Bhoot make their entrance, their clothes and appearances are also described in just as much detail, which is good to see. Mostly they are hairy and wear huge jamas and also ornaments like ghungroo. I thought this was a great peek into Nepalis fantasy creatures repertoire… For example here is Gurumapa: एक-एक बित्ता दाह्रा मुखबाट निस्केको, कालो वर्ण भएको, कैला जगल्टा पालेको, कालो कुचिन जामा लाएको, तोसका पटुका बाँधेको, हात खुट्टामा चाँप लाएको, बाँकी देखिएको आङमा काला खसीको आङझैँ रौँ उम्रिएको, हातमा ढाल-तरबार लिएको.....

And near the end, Agnidatta's appearance is described so lovingly, it's a high point for fashion in Nepali literature: अन्दाजी २०/२५ वर्ष उमेर भएका, पहेँलो रोगन, जुँगाको रेखी मात्र बसेको, हात्तीसुँढे पाखुरा भएका, सिंहको जस्तो छाती भएका, असल कोगिटाको टाँकवाल सुरुवाल लाएका, कालो कस्मीराको कोट लगाएका, हीराको औँठी हातमा लाएका, निधारवाल लयसदार टोपी लाएका, घुँडासम्म आउने अंग्रेजी बुट लाएका, हस्तीहाडको टाउको भएको छडी हातमा लिएका, सफेद मलमलको पटुका बाँधेका, सुनको बुट्टा हालेको तरवार भिरेका, कलेजी रङको रेशमी रुमाल देखिने गरी माथिल्लो जेबमा घुसारेका, एक हातले चुरोट खाँदै ……

Misogynistic romances

However, after the first part it starts to drag because everything is so similar. Like the wars that are fought and won or lost in half a page, the villains are also mostly similar, and the women: oh, why are all the women either characterless sluts that need to be imprisoned or extremely beautiful damsels in distress who are imprisoned by their fathers or prospective suitors? And they are SO HAPPY to see the heroes, SO DAMN HAPPY that as soon as they see the hero or one of his minions, they are like, अब म हजुरको पाउमा ढोग दिएर यो जनमभर हजुरकी दासी भएर बस्छु। And mind you, this is as soon as the women see the men hai, not like after talking for a bit or having an affair or something. They just instinctively trust that this guy who they have never seen before has come to rescue them. They say it first, यहाँबाट यो दासीको उद्धार गर्नुहोस्, before the hero offers to rescue them. I can't believe how gullible the writer thinks women are!

And that leads us to the speed and repetitive nature of how all the marriages happen in this story: all the princes and even Agnidatta find their matches thus. And Agnidatta the super cad falls in love not just once, but thrice! While the first one is convincing and looks like a happy ending within this universe, the last two are so so weird. I can’t even begin to. Ok, let's go back to the first one which has its own share of weirdness, or rather, misogyny. Agnidatta falls in love with a girl who frequents a Shivalaya, and in order to woo her, builds a tunnel which ends in the Shiva's statue so that he can hide there and pretend to be Shiva.

She: comes in for her nitya pooja.

He:हे कुकर्मी चान्डाल्नी, तैँले यस्तो जवानी अवस्थामा पनि बिहे गरिनस् भने तँ अवश्य वेश्या हुन्छेस्। कलंकिनी! बिहे नगरी बस्छेस्! म तँ जस्ताको पूजा स्वीकार गर्दिन! तँलाई पनि भष्म गरिदिन्छु!

She (completely ignoring the fact that a god just disparaged her for not marrying, while in Hinduism this is supposed to be a pure and devout state, and also completely unbaffled that a statue just spoke to her and completely gullible to his abusive language which inspires her to open her heart) (गहभरी आँसु, डरले थरथर काम्दै): के गर्नु, मेरा बुवाले मलाई पिशाचसँग विवाह गरिदिनुहुन्छ, म चाहिँ ब्राह्मणसँग मात्र विवाह गर्छु भनेर विवाह नगरेर बसेकी हुँ!

How convenient huh! That the one girl he likes is waiting for a Brahmin man like him! After this highly deplorable way of wooing your loved one by abusing them, there is a convoluted plot twist by which the marriage occurs, but Agnidatta's love life is just beginning.

He enters the service of Mukundasen, the king of Palpa (real historical figure, good to see him) where the princess asks him to bring a chura ko joda and she says she will marry only the man who will bring it. And he's like, I will bring it. I mean, why? When he is already married to a girl he fell for? And he even asks the new girl: म कुमार केटो होइन, मेरी श्रीमती र छोरा छन्, पछि त्यो थाहा पाएर पछि हट्न पाइबक्सिन्न। And she, in typical patriarchal fashion which the men who want multiple wives are gonna love, is like, भाग्यमा त्यही लेखेको रहेछ भने एकजना के, सातजना सौता माथि पनि जान डराउन्न!!!! Like, What?????????????????

So anyways, when Agnidatta goes off to look for the chura, he encounters a flesh eating rakshashi (by the way, the number of flesh eating cannibals in this story is just mind boggling), who says to him: I lured you here to marry my daughter.

Agnidatta, upon seeing her: के तपाइँकी छोरी यिनै हुन्?

छोरीः अब म जनम जनम भर हजुरकी दासी भएर रहन्छु।

अग्निदत्तः (once he sees how pretty she is, no other questions are asked about why the mother lured him, and why they can't find anyone to marry her, etc etc. Again, how convenient that everyone just wants to lure him so that he can marry nubile maidens, and the said maiden falls in love with him immediately despite being a flesh eating rakshasi while he is a vegetarian Brahmin) तिमी राक्षसनी भएकीले म तिम्रो पाणीग्रहण गर्न सक्दिन, गन्धर्व विवाह गर्नुपर्छ।

आमाः मेरी छोरीको जुनी नबिगारिदिनुहोस् है, विवाह गरेपछि सँगै बसेर राम्रो गर्नुहोला (as if she didn't know that he already has a wife.)

And then, not only does he marry her, but lives with her for two years, and when he is about to leave, says: तिम्रो माया मलाई पनि छ (when and how did this love happen, we are not told. We have been led to believe that he married her for the chura, which her mother owns), तर केही राज्य सञ्चालनको काम परेकाले अब जानुपर्छ। Note that he omits the part about going to present the chura to the princess. And to the princess he goes and presents the chura and when she asks where he had been for two years, he's like, काम धेरै कठिन थियो त्यसैले समय लाग्यो। Even until the end, it is not revealed whether his three wives know of each other, and that brings us to how unlikeable Agnidatta is.

Lacking Characterization

Just as he blithely deceives his wives, he deceives anyone and everyone he sees. One understands if the hero does that to the villains, but Agnidatta is so indiscriminate. Like in the first part, he meets a Newar woman Latamaya who is imprisoned, and he tells her that her brother is his mitjyu, and offers to write a letter from her to him, so she gets him pen and paper. But he writes his own letter instead, and completely forgets about Latamaya's brother. And actually we don't even know if he is really her brother's mitjyu or if he just said so to convince her. Later on, he offers his minions to become bhariyas of a merchant, and when the merchant trusts them and pays them an initial sum and even gives them the bharis, he runs away with the stuff to another city and becomes merchant himself!

Such tricksters are often found in literature, from mythological heroes like Thor and Hermes and Krishna to heroes in so many folktales. Why, then, is Agnidatta more unlovable than them? I think it might be two things: one is that Agnidatta tricks not just villains but also innocent people, Latamaya and that poor merchant had done nothing wrong! And another is that this seems to be based on caste dynamics: the people he deceives are obviously not Brahmins or kings, so he seems to feel it is acceptable to cheat them....

This brings us to the weakest aspects of this book: characterization. Books are usually great because of characterizations, it is usually characters that people take to heart and remember. Here, however, we have an unlikeable hero, pale and washed out minions, and cardboard cut-out women who fit into exactly two categories. Joshi has put most of his efforts into the plot and the background, which are both remarkable, but when it comes to characters, I can't even remember a single fascinating one. There was promise in the first part with formidable single women, but they simply flit in and out of the story as minor characters.

Conclusion: A historical goldmine

In conclusion, I am glad I read this novel which is a storehouse of resources about the Nepali fantasy imagination. In the introduction, the publisher has compared the book to Harry Potter, wondering why our youngsters are mesmerized by such foreign products while Vir Charitra languishes. I don't think that comparison is quite fair. Harry Potter is far more advanced in terms of storytelling, keeping the reader engaged, and doling out the information in bits and pieces strategically to keep the mystery alive, describing people's expressions and dialogues in a lively manner, and bringing it all alive with humour. Vir Charitra tells the story in a linear way, we are simply shown the events through the protagonists' eyes, and though there is adventure and fantasy, there is little mystery and no humour (except unintentional). I think in Western literature Vir Charitra is more comparable to earlier mysteries like The Moonstone, which had a rambling and linear plot, and used few plot devices in the way of engaging the reader. Maybe there are comparable western books in the fantasy genre too, which I might add here later.

But more than Harry Potter or The Moonstone, I think Vir Charitra stands as a remarkable achievement in the South Asian fantasy genre, better described by the word tilasmi. Kamal Mani Dixit writes in Himal magazine that the writer was a fan of Hindi tilasmi novels like Chandrakanta, and even named him son Devakinath after Devakinandan, the writer of Chandrakanta. Having devoured those novels, Joshi has imbibed their plots, their vibes, their tilasm, but produced something entirely Nepali. As Kamal Mani Dixit again mentions, the book is set beautifully in Nepal: beginning in Baglung, the book goes on to Ulleri, Pokhara, Kagbeni, Mustang, Kathmandu, Palpa. It gives glimpses of Nepali society: for example how the hero's family is going on a pilgrimage to Ridi, and they spend the night at a dharmashala with Newar traders from Dolakha, etc. There are travelling lamas from Mustang, and singers and dancers from Doti, and many other characters from different places of Nepal that I forget now. Just to see real Nepal as the setting for such a story is so uplifting, so inspiring. Besides, the characters and the fantastic creatures in the book are also completely Nepali: I don't think there are Gurumapas and Ghanta Karnas and Dobate Bhoots in Hindi novels. And what to say of that typical Nepali pahade Brahmin Agnidatta, hahahaha.

I think the value of Vir Charitra lies in these things, the Nepali fantastic imagination of a century ago. Even though I immensely enjoyed the landscapes, the architecture, the costumes, and other sensory details of the time in the book, I would not read it for enjoyment as it was apparently devoured by the royals and the public when it was first created. That is because, first of all, the extreme misogyny: throwing the lascivious woman into jail is really not my idea of a happy ending, nor is abusive language my idea of romance. Secondly, the lackluster three fourths of the book where events and characters just whiz by with very little development. However, as a critic and an observer of Nepali literature, I find a goldmine in this book. Also as an avid reader of the fantasy reader, this book gives me much food for thought about its place in the genre worldwide, as well as possibilities for the Nepali fantasy genre in future.

Vir Charitra has abundant pros and cons, and I think the pros deserve wider appreciation. Joshi deserves more recognition as a craftsman of such a finely plotted book, and such marvelous imagination of places, settings, machines, instruments, tilasmi elements, and a documentation of contemporary elite culture. Many other writers who are just as sexist, for example Bhanubhakta, have carved respected places in Nepali literature, and Joshi, too deserves to be seen, read and analysed more. It is sad that the tilasmi genre is so little explored in Nepal, the positive aspects of his book can provide inspiration for a new generation of Nepali writers interested to explore fantasy and magical realism. We also need to establish Joshi in his rightful place in the South Asian tradition of tilasmi literature.

Post script: revising portrayal of women

On second thoughts, I am revising my opinion of the portrayal of women in this book. While it is true that the heroes' love interests are virginal damsels in distress and that the promiscuous antagonist is punished, there is also a third category of women which cannot be ignored. The agencies of the first two categories of women are curtailed: while the first go directly from father/fiance's imprisonment into marriage with one of the heroes, the second is imprisoned. However, there are also women do get to exercise their agency and are not punished for it.

First of all, there are women like Kadambini and Kamaksha (another free and happy Bengali woman) who do make an impression even as minor characters. I have already talked about what an admirable character Kadambini is.

Secondly, there are also some women who get to walk the thin line of sexual agency happily. There is the rakshasni who lures Agnidatta into marrying her daughter. While the daughter is a docile 16 year old, the mother is a flesh eating cannibal. When we encounter her for the first time, she is described as a fancily dressed woman who is trying to reach a man on his last breath hanging from a tree so that she can give him a last drink of water. Agnidatta helps her reach the man, only to see her cutting him up and eating the bits. He then throws her down and fights her. Nonetheless, this rakshasi, who again later lures him in to marry her daughter, is a beautiful and powerful woman who gets a happy ending, respected by Agnidatta.

Finally, how could I forget डोटी की पातर and Joshi's sympathetic portrayal of her. At one point, Agnidatta decides that the best way to bring down a lecherous villain is through a pretty woman, and he employs a patar (singer/dancer) woman from Doti to do the job. Considering Joshi's unsympathetic portrayal of Nidhini, I expected him to put the patar in the same box and treat her contemptuously. However, she is first of all praised for her beauty and charm and seductive powers, and then quite valorized as she goes about unleashing her charms on some hapless nobles who can do nothing but succumb to her wiles. Ultimately she is tamed by marriage to a hero, and even this is a happy ending which I didn't think Joshi would give her, I thought he would throw her away after she completed her role. It is interesting that the princesses, even the daughters of rakshasas and danavs, only get to be devout and pure and innocent and frequent only temples, while the entertainer gets to fully exercise her seductive powers, and still be loved and respected. I expect the students of Nepali literature to write reams and reams of papers after this revelation.