Bartaman - Kaytapuja

Bartaman (Kaytapuja)! it is a mind boggling word that changes your perspective of the world forever. It is when boys change to men. It is when you become mature or so it is thought, except in the case of my dear baby brother who got pushed into it along with my own coming of age. (They did this for convenience my parent's confided in me). There are definite advantages to being the first born, I smirked to myself.

I enjoyed going through this wonderful experience. It was only fair since my manhood began at an early age. Seriously, soon after the ceremony my twelve year old voice began to crack and turn hoarse, and a fine line of mustache became apparent on my flawless face! My mother, worried I might be coming down with a soar throat, nagged me to gargle with salt water for a couple of days. Alas the voice remained gruff to her utter disbelief !!

It all started early one morning. I had gone to sleep early that evening. Too early! I woke up at six in the morning. Normally I sleep till ten. The tent builders came an hour late, and the final moment was arriving. (We had to put the tent up in the front lawn of my grandparents'- house because of the monsoons and to accommodate one hundred or so relatives who would be present shortly).

My brother and I were nervous but my grandparents gave us words of wisdom. When the priest was ready, my grandfather, brother, and I went through countless number of prayers in Sanskrit. Then they said it was time to cut my precious hair! I had dreaded this moment for days on end.

My grandfather said I could have a crew cut, so we did, but after all the fussing my annoying brother managed to escape a close cut like mine and at the end he could still comb his hair! We took showers and started prayers again. After this, the chase began. My uncle caught me because my other uncle grabbed me. According to custom we were to run away from the family and have our uncle chase and catch us so we do not turn into hermits.

Then we got a bundle of presents. After everything was done, we went to Ganeshthan to pray. When we got back it was time for lunch. I got in line, but my dad pulled me inside for Sagun. After the first three set of saguns, I was more than full! After that, I deserved some sleep! The next morning I slept till ten. My brother was already opening presents. I heard him yell, "What is with all this cloth." It is a tradition in Nepal to give pieces of cloth for presents. "It is for good luck," my grandmother said.

The next day was the party. I never had a chance to sit down. I had to receive the people. When someone was leaving more were coming. Some people had changed from when I had seen them last. Others, I did not remember. Some, I had never seen before!

I never knew becoming an adult could be so complicated! Still running around with his squeaky voice (more annoying than ever before) I wonder if the Bartaman made any impact on my eight year old brother. After all he did blurt out during the ceremony, "It is not fair, I am not coming of age so why do I have to do this?" I glanced at the priest who continued with the chanting and nobody said a word. Mom and dad stood in the corner with a finger on their lips, their eyes directly on my brother. A slight hint I would say!!!

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