From our current vantage point, this poem is not significant because it was composed with the intention of making its message insignificant. Today, every Nepali is acquainted with their country, language, and literature, the weight of which is inseparable from their identity. But was the condition of the Nepali language the same 50 years ago? Definitely not. If that were the case, the aforementioned poem would not have been considered important back then. This small poem has played a huge role in nudging those Nepalis from the bygone era, who hadn’t yet grasped the crux of language and literature, and connecting them to their inherent identities. Actually, this was Shree Dharanidhar Koirala’s first attempt at writing poetry. Even then, the poem became Koirala-ji’s first official creation, and its message also became one of the first of many firsts that ushered a kind of a mass awakening within Nepali society.
Because he was an educated person, it’s possible that Dharanidhar-ji was already interested in literature. But when the weekly Gorakhkali put out a call in 1915 inviting participants for the regularly held Sthiti-Samasyapurti [a public, often literary tradition in which writers and intellectuals were summoned to either craft public policies or complete literary texts], Koirala-ji’s latent literary sensibility got stirred. The focus of that meeting was ‘mother tongue’ and the emotional undercurrent of the poem Koirala-ji wrote to address issues in the mother tongue somehow ended up being problematic. But even more amazing is the fact that the emotions Koirala-ji expressed in the poem above is not limited only to that poem but has been expressed in his entire body of work.
We don’t need to go too far to find evidence for this. It was only last year that the Royal Nepal Academy honoured him, acknowledging his life work: ‘Shree Dharanidhar Koirala will receive the Tribhuvan Puraskar (award) for his long contribution to Nepali literature (22 June 1965; His Majesty the King, Chancellor, Royal Nepal Academy).
A symposium was organised at Gorkhe Library in 1919. Shree Dharanidhar Koirala became involved in the symposium because of his association with Subba Krishna Prasad Koirala, who, in those days, was in charge of customs duty. Although he was only in his mid-twenties, his lecture managed to entrance the audience. Everyone began insisting that Dharanidhar-ji ought to become a pandit and begin teaching. At first, he was reluctant to get involved in this task of exchanging knowledge but later, he accepted the request and became employed at a government-run high school in Darjeeling.
While studying in Banaras in 1915, he had been part of a protest that demanded the teaching of Nepali in Calcutta University. This revolution became successful in 1921. Surya Bikram Gyawali-ji had played a huge role in achieving this goal. And after this revolution, Dharanidhar Koirala-ji and Surya Bikram Gyawali-ji began working very closely to uplift and develop Nepali language and literature.
A couple of years after completing his IA in Banaras and heading to Darjeeling, Dharanidhar-ji arranged for his friend Surya Bikram Gyawali-ji to also come to Darjeeling and begin teaching at the same school. A tradition commenced for a number of years: As Dharanidhar-ji progressed through the ranks, Teacher, Head Teacher, District Education Officer, Surya Bikram-ji kept following in his steps, filling the jobs left vacant by him, making the older friend proud. Another personality became involved with this inseparable duo: Shree Parasmani Pradhan.
But Dharanidhar-ji complained that Parasmani-ji has ignored his previous mission and is only focused on business these days. When I attempted to get more information regarding this issue and probed him, he responded thus:
The river is dark; the berries ripe
And the bird cries
I prefer being far-sighted
Why speak of my sighs.
Tall and bright-faced, Dharanidhar-ji had moist eyes and white uncut beard. His hair was also white and he was wearing a white shirt and white trousers but his glasses were dark, which he kept removing. In the sequence of our conversation, I asked him, ‘While working to uplift the Nepali language, which period would you say was most soul-satisfying?’
Maintaining his characteristic cheerful disposition, he responded, ‘I haven’t achieved the kind of satisfaction that does justice to my 50 years of struggle. But I can recall two incidents when I have been deeply satisfied. The first was when I met His Majesty and conversed with him entirely in Nepali. And the second was also when I was able to converse entirely in Nepali with Shree Teen Juddha Shumsher. The reason these incidents satisfied my soul was probably because I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be able to hear them speaking entirely in Nepali.’
Just like his poem about promoting the mother tongue, the anecdote above might seem surprising today, but that was how the situation was back then. The satisfaction Shree Dharanidhar felt was not just a mere personal achievement; it was in fact an achievement for every Nepali.
My next question was, ‘Are you content with the progress in Nepali literature so far?’
‘The pace of literary development is a bit wanting. It’s influenced more by commercial aspects. But since the King himself is involved in literary upliftment, my concern regarding the issue has been decreasing.’
‘What about in Darjeeling?’
‘There’s internal conflict in Darjeeling now, due to political interference. None of our hopes could be realised but these days, there’s renewed faith due to the enthusiasm of young people.’
Apparently, the public still hasn’t taken the above stanzas to heart. Determined to stoke their awareness, Dharanidhar-ji composed another simpler poem:
Self-duty abandoned, society ruined
Entire households wrecked
Help! Call your brothers
Help! Call your sisters
I posed another question to Koirala-ji, who had become immersed in this social campaign, ‘At the time, what was the source of your motivation to get involved in that kind of work? And why?’
‘Since I completed my entire education in India, I witnessed the progress of various languages and literatures spoken around me. At the time, Banaras was a foundation for the Hindi language. Where did we stand in all this? This feeling, this sense of lack, propelled my affection towards languages and ethnicities, which fully bloomed when I went to Darjeeling. Although I faced various obstacles, since I was selflessly devoted to the work, my determination was never shaken.’
‘Any specific obstacles worth mentioning?’
‘There were quite a few, innumerable really, you can probably imagine yourself. When people from other communities who spoke different languages protested, we attempted to calm them by saying our intention was not to hurt Biharis, Bengalis, and Muslims; we were simply trying to serve and uplift our own language and motherland. When the English tried to dismiss Nepali, we convinced an English friend, Griffith [W.E. Griffith of the Griffith Committee of 1927, which was instrumental in Nepali being introduced as the medium of instruction at the primary school level in Darjeeling], that Nepali language also contains nuances and subtleties; he in turn spoke up on our behalf.’
‘Were you involved in politics as well?’
‘Although I wasn’t involved in politics, who can claim to be free from politics? Around 1940, after the Second World War, Surya-Babu [Surya Bikram Gyawali], Hari Prasad-ji [ex-Chief Justice Hari Prasad Pradhan], and I were jailed for a year each.’
‘This was in India, what about Nepal’s politics…?’
‘I never stepped into politics openly but the Rana-jis could not tolerate me. When I attempted to get books from Nepal in order to publicise Nepali language and literature, they did not allow it. The reputation of the people I used to exchange literary letters with got stained. Nandalal Bichari was one of them, who lost his job as a result. That was how it was back then…’
‘Yes, that was how it was back then,’ I agreed and redirected the conversation towards literature, ‘What kind of literature would you like to see?’
‘Why limit it only to me? I think literature ought to contribute positively to society. In other words, literature’s goal should be social progress. There shouldn’t be sexual depravity in a book like Sukti Sindhu. Literature ought to bring people together, not separate them.’
He confessed that out of all his creations, his favourites were ‘Sahitya-Sudha’ and ‘Nij Mandir’. ‘What about other writers? Who are your favourites?’ I asked him.
‘Bhanubhakta and Lekhnath—I feel connected to these two. And Balkrishna Sama’s plays and well. I tend to like all kinds of works by Nepali writers.’
Dharanidhar-ji promoted education in Nepali society from the time he was a teacher and he continued to spend most of his professional life in education management. When he was a principal at Pharping’s Tribhuvan Adarsha School in the mid-1960s, he spent 21 days on an educational tour of the People’s Republic of China. In the newly established Tribhuvan University, when officials were in a dilemma regarding the inclusion of Sanskrit and Nepali in the curriculum, Dharanidhar-ji helped the situation by facilitating the inclusion of these languages in the MA curricula. He is not happy with the management of education in Nepal. He says, ‘The way education is managed and promoted in Nepal has several drawbacks. The education system is publicising education indirectly only. There is a need to work more directly and hence some kind of change is needed. We need to be mindful of the system if we want to promote education in the nation properly. It’s necessary to improve the traits of both teachers and students.’
He was quite hopeful regarding this matter as well. After promising to visit him at his own home in Pharping, I took my leave.
—4 August 1966
Dharanidhar Koirala (1893–1980) studied Sanskrit and English in Banaras. Later, he became involved in the promotion of Nepali language along with Surya Bikram Gyawali and Parasmani Pradhan (the trio famously referred to as SuDhaPa). The group established the Nepali Sahitya Sammelan in Darjeeling in 1924.
