Kathmandu - The annual tradition of the dancing demon continues to fascinate during the festival celebrating the living child goddess in Nepal.
Each year during the festival of Indra Jatra, Nepalese police officer Laxman Ranjit takes a week-long leave of absence.
It is time for him to don the mask of the demon known as a Lakhey, or Lakhe, and perform the dancing ritual at the annual September festival in the Kathmandu Valley.
“I've been doing this for last 16 years now,” says Ranjit, who is considered the strongest and most popular of the demon portrayers.
He is one of half a dozen men who take turns donning the 15-kilogram headgear complete with red mask and hair. A long brocade gown is tapered at the waist with a belt of leather and metallic bells, weighing around 10 kilograms, that holds in place a 20-metre white cloth waistband.
The 34-year-old national weightlifting competitor is known for his ability to perform for hours on end, hoisting his limbs into the air, showing off his tattooed arms that allow those familiar with him to identify the one behind the mask.
Traditionally, the Lakhey came from the Ranjitkar clan. According to mythology, the demon was being chased by the people of Kathmandu for creating havoc in the city. As he fled, Lakhey slipped on paint and fell, but the Ranjitkars gave him refuge from his pursuers.
“The first time you perform, you're nervous because you're under pressure to prove that you are among the chosen ones,” says Ram Ranjit, who is Laxman's twin brother and understudy.
“But unlike most of us, the first time Laxman became a Lakhey, he performed all seven days of the festival without taking a break.”
He explains that the role is a responsibility that not everyone can take on.
The Lakhey ritual is tied to the annual chariot ride of the Kumari, the living goddess of Nepal, the highlight of the Indra Jatra festival. The goddess is a child from the Shakya clan, and can be as young as 3 years old.
The goddess is removed from her revered position once she reaches puberty or loses a baby tooth.
Due to its traditional link to monarchs, the institution of Kumari is somewhat controversial since the monarchy was abolished in 2006. But the festival continues to be held and during it, the goddess is taken around the old city in a chariot dragged by men.
“A Lakhey's job is to lead the path for the Kumari's chariot,” Laxman explains. “You run for hours as a lakhey, barefoot, dancing, and you never feel tired. That's god. You can't see god, but what is protecting you from within is god.”
There is no formal training to prepare the men for it.
“We grow up with it, watching our elders do this every year,” says Ram. “And when the day of the performance arrives, you just know that it's time to perform and you do it.”
The men say the sound of the drums and cymbals have a certain lure for them and as children, they would bunk off school to join in.
“The dance looks great to onlookers, but there are problems behind the mask,” says Laxman. “We are forbidden to look at gods like Dagee and Sawabhakku who also walk through the streets during the festival, so we have to maintain the presence of mind to make sure we're looking only where we aren't forbidden.”
While the rest of the characters in the festival saunter through the city, the Lakhey can be seen running, jumping and dancing in a frenzy. Its sidekick, Jhyaalincha, attempts to allay the crowd's fear, as it teases and provokes the demon.
“I want people to feel scared of the Lakhey. No one should touch him,” says Laxman. “The Lakhey is special because it is fearsome. The fear is needed to balance out other emotions.”
There is also a popular belief that spirits never haunt houses that the Lakhey has been to. During the festival, people request its presence at their homes to protect them.
“Lakhey is a feeling,” says Ram. “The mask is considered to have some tantric powers.”
“The mind usually goes blank once you put on the mask,” Laxman says. “Your sole focus is the performance, which is a responsibility. I feel like I'm not one of the people once I put on the mask, and I can't remember who is around me. Just that I have to keep going.” - PRATIBHA TULADHAR, Sapa-dpa