Concord families celebrate reunions during Hindu holiday of Dashain

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In 2009, just a few weeks after arriving in America from a refugee camp in Nepal, Chida Dhungel found himself scrambling to gather everything his family needed to celebrate their most beloved holiday, Dashain.

A unique variety of rice that his family could grind into a special holiday dish; a mud statue of the goddess Durga, her many arms and golden crown; marigolds; and abir, a ground stone used to dye a mix of rice and yogurt a brilliant red for the tika the family will wear on their foreheads.

That first year, though, the family couldn’t find quite everything on the list.

“It was not the whole thing that we needed, but it was good. Many of our relatives were here, and we could celebrate with them,” Dhungel said.

And that, under the many colors, the pots filled with food and the ritual blessings, is the point of Dashain, he said.

Dashain is a two-week Hindu celebration of the triumph of good over evil, and the passing of blessings from older relatives to younger.

Once upon a time, Dhungel said, demons plagued mankind. They harassed and pestered and tricked and tortured the people, and the Hindu gods were unable to help. So the gods got together and created the first Hindu goddess, Durga.

For days, Durga battled the demons until on the ninth day, she had killed them all. Wednesday marked the 10th day of Dashain this year, time to celebrate, reunite and look forward to a year filled with blessings. Dhungel is the youngest of nine brothers and sisters who are scattered around the country; one lives here in Concord, but the others are in Colorado, New York and Missouri. Some were able to come to Concord for the holiday, but others couldn’t.

“Sometimes it is sad, but we will see them at another holiday. There is always a holiday,” Dhungel’s son Upen said.

After sitting and talking in the living room for a while, the visiting family went upstairs in small groups to the room where Dhungel’s parents sleep. One closet is dedicated as a temple to the god Vishnu, covered in colorful drawings of gods and goddesses, with a shrine in one corner draped with bright yellow and orange garlands. The grandparents lead the family every morning and evening in offerings and prayers.

This week, a small table holds a statue of Durga that Dhungel found two years ago at a store in Nashua. She looked blankly out at the room, flanked by vases of flowers and a bright red and gold scarf wrapped around her. A blanket on the floor in front of the table was littered with yellow marigold petals and long, thin stems.

Sudha Khatiwada, Dhungel’s sister-in-law, and her husband Bhagirath, knelt on the blanket. Their energetic toddler, Biplab, wiggled out of his mother’s arms and squeezed himself into a corner between the wall and a bureau. The tika is itchy, and he doesn’t want any more added to his forehead, he whispered.

Sudha held a metal plate as Dhungel’s father, named Vishnu after the Hindu god, reached down and gathered some of the red rice in his hands. Softly reciting a Sanskrit blessing, he pressed the tika onto their foreheads, adding to the mark already there from blessings earlier in the day. Vishnu Dhungel’s fingers will be stained red for days because of the abir, and because being the oldest member of the family, he will perform the most blessings.

Dhungel’s mother, Renu, sprinkled yellow petals and stems on their hair, and then each grandparent pressed a small white envelope or a folded dollar bill into their palms.

Sudha and Bhagirath pressed their hands together and brought them to their foreheads and then their hearts, bowing slightly in gratitude for the blessings, spiritual and monetary.

After spending time at the Dhungels’ house, the family will move one small group at a time to the home of another relative, who also prepared food for them, and has built a small shrine to Durga for the celebration. The head of the family in that house will give blessings to all the relatives younger than him, and so on at each house in the family. If someone couldn’t make it Wednesday, he could visit yesterday or today and receive blessings, which would be just as strong. Latecomers aren’t punished if they make it before the end of the festival.

“It is to empower you,” Upen Dhungel said. “It is the time when our grandparents wish everything good for us, for us to do good things in the year and to have many blessings.”

Later, as he finished his plate of rice and curried jack fruit, Bhagirath Khatiwada’s cell phone rang and, answering it, his face paled and his smile melted. Most days, he’s a case worker with Lutheran Social Services, settling newer refugees in their American communities, translating for them at meetings with social workers and helping them understand the many agencies and officials in their new home.

This phone call was from another case worker, who was visiting clients in a Concord apartment complex nearby. Someone had left two notes taped to their door, with messages scrawled in black ink, telling the family to go back where they came from.

Khatiwada walked out of the house into the sunny yard, where Biplab ran around with his young cousins. Khatiwada stood a few yards away, speaking in low tones with his brow furrowed, as he told his colleague to call the police and that he was on his way over, too.

As he drove away, Renu and Vishnu Dhungel tucked yellow marigold petals under the windshield wipers of their relatives’ cars, and bowed, smiling and using one of the only English phrases they know, “Thank you,” to say good-bye to reporters.

(Sarah Palermo can be reached at 369-3322 or spalermo@cmonitor.com or on Twitter@SPalermoNews.)

*Corrected to reflect the correct spelling of Biplab Khatiwada’s name.