Teej!

8 September 

…Otherwise known as the festival where I was pushed on stage to dance in front of the entire village of Gorkha and interviewed for the local radio station. In Nepali, of course!

It began with a 5am start Saturday morning when my baujyu ushered me out of bed to begin preparation for the Teej women’s festival. Wrapped, re-wrapped, and re-re-wrapped in a bright red sari, I had a firsthand account of how my Barbie dolls used to feel as I was primped, pinned, and prodded by every member of the family, who each had their own opinion of how the drape should fold and skirt should tuck. Just when I thought I was ready to go, my dai rushed in with a bag of hair supplies. An hour later, he had fixed me a beautiful prom-worthy hairstyle that required more bobby pins than I used for my junior and senior formals. Combined. I donned a bunch of borrowed gold jewelry (so much so that I was not allowed to walk around by myself in case I was mugged. Very subtle.) and was ready for the walk to the NELTA office, where the ETAs assist with extra English programs and cultural activities. And Teej was a cultural event we were told we didn’t want to miss.

Once a year, Nepali women return to their mighty garr (maternal homes) and celebrate with singing, dancing, and showing off their finest outfits. Oh, and fasting. It is customary for women to spend the day fasting for the long life of their husbands and after 3 weeks of mountains of rice, I was ready to welcome the short reprieve. I was informed that morning, however, my family does not practice that tradition when a bigger than usual rice peak arrived on the table in front of me. Apologies to my future husband –looks like you’re not off the hook for exercising and healthy eating…

We spent the day dancing with our students, feasting on Teej dar (rice pudding and vegetable curry) before returning home to rest and repeat the next day. Following the throngs of elegantly dressed women to the nearby temple, my didi and I passed some of my students along the way.

“Raamro nacchnu! Dheri dheri raamro nacchnu,” they all giggled, pointing at me. “Beautiful dancing.”

Why, thank you, I thought. This caused my didi to speak enthusiastically (read: so quickly it was beyond comprehension) although I was able to catch bits and pieces. Dancing. Stage. Camera. Photo. America.

Yes, I thought. I’m definitely going to take plenty of photos to show my family and friends at home.

Ten minutes later when I found myself being pulled onto the stage, I realized that my translation had been a bit off… I was the one that would be dancing on stage. When the split-second moment of panic wore off, I pretended I knew what I was doing and mimicked the dancers around me –then added in some moves of my own. (If you see any future Nepali music videos featuring moves that look suspiciously like the Macarana with a few wrist flicks and hip shakes, you can probably guess why…)

Smiling and sweating, I made my way to the stage steps once the music finally slowed. But before I could escape to freedom, the MC grabbed my arm and pushed a microphone at my face.

“Just a few questions,” her voice crackled over a dozen loudspeakers positioned around the grounds. “Can you tell us you’re name, where you’re from and how you like the Teej festival?”

I silently thanked Prava-ji for her month of language training and the ability to respond in Nepali.

“Mero naam Amisha Shrestha ho ra mero desh America ho. Yo dheri dheri raamilo chaa!”

Even hours later, Didi was still laughing and showing me off to everyone we passed. “FM radio! FM radio!” she called out, again pointing to me. Not only did all of Gorkha witness my dancing, but for anyone missing out at home, they could tune into my radio interview. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how one slightly confused and overwhelmed, yet excited American got her Nepali claim to fame!