Dhungana knows that only the seriousness she has given to her writing career has made it possible for her to become an established poet in the literary circle of Nepal. She feels that unless poets or writers take their profession seriously, it becomes difficult to break through with their writing. The support she has received from her family and husband has been tremendous and she knows that for poets and writers nothing is as valuable as the appreciation they receive from their family, friends, and colleagues. 

Dhungana’s childhood upbringing was centered towards receiving a good education. “The male members–my father and brothers–in my family were liberal. We were a big family and there were nine to ten of us who would attend school. I was never discriminated against because of my gender. At that time, my brother Dirgha Raj Koirala was a school inspector and later on he became Secretary, Ministry of Education. When I was five or six years old, my family moved to Banaras where I received primary education. Then, when I was in class seven, we returned to Biratnagar–my birthplace–where I attended a high school for girls. We had to study the Romantic poets–Keats, Wordsworth, etc.–and I remember I used to enjoy putting in extra effort when I wrote essays. Sometimes my teacher would read them out to the class and comment on my imagination.

“I also remember I loved dancing as a child. At the school in Banaras, dancing and music were compulsory and we had to study the poems of Rabindranath Tagore and Maha Devi Burma. Burma wrote poetry on nature– the land, flowers, seasons–and I enjoyed them very much. Once we performed a dance on a poem of hers and each child was a season. I was given the role of winter and had to dance like the samir wind. I remember one of my teachers was impressed by the way I recited my lines.

Unlike many of her school friends who got married after completing their School Leaving Certificate examinations, Dhungana went on to attend Intermediate of Arts (I.A.) classes at Ratna Rajya Campus in Kathmandu. She was twenty-two years old. “A relative of mine started the college and, before I could decide where to go, asked me to join the college. One of my classmates was Dharma Bhakta’s daughter. Looking back, I think I made the right decision because I realize that the education we received at that time was good and our teachers were qualified and dedicated. Talking about the period, Dhungana says, “The social environment differed from that of today. Women and young girls in Kathmandu nowadays enjoy independence. Back then we hardly made the attempt to go out on our own and visit restaurants or eat at mo mo (meat dumplings) stalls. We had to walk much of the time or use the bus; the number of taxis was negligible. Although I feel I was quite mature by the time I arrived in Kathmandu from Biratnagar, thanks to my upbringing, in many ways I was still a child. We had a lot of visitors at home and I did not lack the opportunity to interact with people and was never short of company because of our large family.”

During this time, Dhungana had begun writing but did not feel the need to publish. “Those days were unlike today. Mass communications had not developed. Except for a few papers and the radio, there were few media-related/entertainment/professional tools. Because my brother Dirgha Raj Koirala held a government post, we became one of the few families in Kathmandu to own a telephone set. Literary magazines were few and far between since it was difficult to get the permission to publish during the Panchayat period.

“One of my uncle’s sons was Dharanidhar Koirala, who later on established himself as a prominent Nepalese writer. He lived with us for some time. He had written many poems during the Rana period and I remember studying them during my tenth year at school. From time to time, whenever the opportunity arose, he would point out literary figures to us–Laxmi Prasad Devkota, Bal Krishna Sama, Gopal Pandey–whose work we had studied at school. I remember that when I was five or six years old, we lived for a while in Kathmandu. Our house was situated near Devkota’s and his daughters became my playmates; we would go and play in their garden. I still recall the time when he carried his daughter on his back on the day of her marriage. Afterwards, one of his daughters also became my mitaeni (friend). Devkota appeared to me a tall figure and someone I felt I could look up to. I would also see Bal Krishna Sama sometimes on my way to Ratna Rajya Campus riding on a rickshaw, draped in a white shawl, holding a walking stick; he had become old by then. On one occasion, I was near enough to hear him speak and was impressed with his style of talking.

“Literary events were rare at that time and there were few opportunities to participate in such functions. Once in a while, when we did attend a program, we would get a chance to see some of the established poets and writers. Sometimes poets would come from India and a program would be held for them at the Bharat Sanskritik Kendra. But my friends and I were considered too young to be participants and we would read about the event in the Gorkhapatra.

“Bhupi Sherchan and Bhim Nidhi Tiwari were invited to a poetry competition at the college. A poem I read out won the second prize but in my nervousness and confusion, I went home without receiving it. The next day Bhupi Sherchan came to meet me at home; he had brought my prize with him. He asked me why I had been shy and I did not know what to say to him. I think the literary atmosphere was quite different than it is today. I don’t think our generation felt comfortable sitting down and conversing with senior poets and writers. If you look around today, you will see that the younger generation of poets and writers mix well with the older generation.

“While I was studying in Ratna Rajya Campus, my first poem was published in Madhuparka literary journal. It was entitled ‘Sabdakosh Ko Aaa’ and was about the first letter of the Nepali dictionary which is Aaa. I was excited and kept the issue under my pillow for seven days, reading my poem every day. It was an entirely new sensation to see my work in print, especially during a time when publications were scarce and ‘block’ printing prevailed. I think that the publishing scenario was also different back then. I always felt self-conscious when showing my work to others. I think poets and writers were receiving publishing opportunities through the recommendation and support of family friends or acquaintances. Sometimes I would read out my poems to my brothers’ friends and one of them would like a poem and say, ‘That’s a good poem, maybe you could get it published.’ They would then send it to a magazine. At that time I did not even have the courage to send my work to editors! Slowly, however, my poetry and short stories were published in Madhuparka, Sanchaya (a Kathmandu-based magazine), Kalpana (a Dharan-based magazine), and Rup Rekha.

“In 1969, Purushottam Basnet and myself started to edit a magazine which Manoj Babu Mishra, an established artist today, named Siudi (Cactus). I designed its covers for six editions and was its editor for five. Through Siudi, I got the opportunity to work with some of Nepal’s noted contemporary writers like Mohan Koirala, Krishna Bhakta, and Dwarika Shrestha. Siudi became popular and well respected among readers and Mohan Koirala published several of his short stories in it. On almost every issue, I published an autobiographical article. Even Parijat told me to continue writing. My name then was Bhuwan Koirala. We brought out altogether 200 to 300 copies of Siudi and priced it Rs. 1.50 each.”

After completing her I.A. studies, Bhuwan Dhungana competed for a scholarship and was selected through the Colombo Plan to attend Bhiswa Bharati University, Shanti Niketan, started by Rabindranath Tagore. She studied the Manipuri dance of Northern India for three years, and, in 1971, received a diploma in dancing and Bengali literature. Although she had been keenly interested in completing a painting course, she could not continue due to weak eyesight. She recalls: “The university was located about seven hours away from Calcutta and concentrated on art, literature, music, and dance education. I used to read a lot of literature by Tagore and other Bengali writers, especially Narayan Gongo Padhaya and Sameresh Basu. I think reading helped me to shape my writing perspectives.” During her stay at Shanti Niketan, she wrote letters to her cousin Dharanidhar Koirala and he would send them back underlining the mistakes she had made. His command of Hindi and Bengali was very good and, during the holidays, he would read out poems to her. Dhungana feels that these moments were inspirational. She returned to Kathmandu and took up English as a major for her Bachelor of Arts degree. She completed post-graduate studies in 1973. Among her short stories, “The Thousand Rupee Note” has been translated into English and Urdu and another short story “Hunger” has been published in Japanese. After her marriage, she changed her name from Bhuwan Koirala to Bhuwan Dhungana. She wrote as Bhuwan Ko Dhungana at first so that her readers could become familiar with her new name. She especially used this pen name in Madhuparka and Samasti (a magazine brought out by the Agricultural Bank). The idea worked because when she met people who were following her work, they told her that they were able to tell that both names belonged to the same person.

“Today, I know that readers have become receptive to my work. I realized that unless I had something concrete published, I would find difficulty in keeping my audience interested. So four years ago, after giving it considerable thought, I put together some of my short stories and brought out a collection. Now I am organizing and collecting my writing and am thinking about future publications.”

She met her husband at a meeting arranged by both their families and eventually they fell in love with each other. Dhungana says, “My husband also wrote poems and short stories and right from the start, even before our marriage, he was very supportive regarding my work. Since he was involved in politics, he knew many people and had good links. He would help by introducing me and sending my work to persons who worked for publications or papers. However, I never felt the compulsion to join my husband in his political activities or to identify myself with his political ideals. Before marriage, my husband had already begun his political career as an activist fighting against the Panchayat regime. When B.P. Koirala was jailed for eight years in Sundarijal, I used to visit him sometimes. By then I had become a fan of his writings. I am glad that all my life, I have been given the opportunity to decide my own career. Since 1974, I have been teaching at the Law Campus. Now I am a Reader.”

Dhungana feels that part of her success as a poet and short story writer comes from her dedication to her work. “I think that the main problem of many poets and writers today is lack of perseverance. I know that making a living out of poetry or writing, especially in a Third World country like Nepal, is extremely difficult. Sometimes ambitions will make people forego their interest for better career options. Ultimately you make or destroy your own future; nobody should be blamed for it.”

Dhungana has been a victim of censorship on two occasions. “Parichaya” was written after a visit to Colorado, USA, where she attended a seminar. Whenever she explained that she was from Nepal, she found difficulty giving a good description of the country. It was only after she mentioned Mt. Everest that people would understand her. This frustrated Dhungana and she felt that she had to write a story that would give a good in-depth introduction to Nepal. She wrote and submitted “Parichaya” to Madhuparka, but it was rejected. After this, Dhungana wrote another story “Naksa” based on the same storyline, which was also rejected. The editor of Madhuparka then told her to submit other kinds of stories which he could publish. Dhungana explains: “‘Naksa’ was about a person who discovers Nepal through the sensation of touch. Every morning the person wakes up and feels the map of Nepal and with each experience the person senses and imagines the changes the country is going through–socially, politically, and geographically. It was an abstract form of writing that the Panchayat system would not have received positively if published.”

Her most recent writing project is a series of memoirs she has published in the Kantipur. Drawing information from B.P. Koirala’s autobiography, she has written articles based on the personal experiences of her father, father-in-law, and other people. “When I started to read B.P. Koiralako Atmabritanta I came across a chapter in which he talks about my father. B.P. talks about the time–before I was born–when my father was handcuffed by the authorities of the Rana regime and had to swim across a river. He succeeded and, because of this feat, he lived and got married to my mother; otherwise I would never have been born. (His first wife died when he was about sixty years old and he married my mother who was twelve or thirteen years old.)

“This incident describing my father came as a surprise to me because I knew very little about my father’s political activities. He died when I was five or six years old, and I felt glad when I read about it. I think it was a kind of a revelation to me, being able to obtain an insight into my father’s character, a man I barely knew. It was like going back to my roots; I felt I was living in the past again and imagining how his family had migrated from their hometown in Dhumja to Biratnagar. It must have taken him courage and hope to risk his family’s safety and venture into unknown territory. This was the first article I submitted along with a photograph of my father to Kantipur.

“After printing this article and the photograph, Kantipur asked me to write another article based on the same theme. So I wrote on my father-in-law based on what B.P. had written in his autobiography. Since I had spent several years with my father-in-law, I got to know him well and understood his political feelings. He would talk about his childhood in Banaras, the school and place where he had studied. My own upbringing in the Indian city helped me to create a vivid picture of how my father-in-law might have grown up and spent his time. Kantipur liked my second story as well and thus began my episodes on B.P. I wrote an article on my brother, who is B.P.’s contemporary; they studied together at school. “I feel that there are a lot of untold stories of the Rana and Panchayat times. Many political activists were fighting for democracy. Many stories don’t get written and, as time passes, we slowly begin to lose touch with our past. I felt that I wanted to bring my past back–not historically but creatively–tales that would carry the truth. In my articles, I have combined the past, the present, and the future. I feel that the public will also find out about other people who had some sort of relationship with B.P. I have received good feedback from my readers; the column became quite popular. Now others ask me why I stopped writing the series and say that I should bring out a book on them. So far I have written and collected 18 to 19 episodes and, if possible, by adding to them, I am thinking of bringing them out in book form.

Talking about the qualities of good writing, Dhungana says: “I think the most important aspects in quality writing are honesty and originality. It helps if one reads and studies the literature of past writers. I enjoy the works of Parijat, Shanker Lamichhane, and others. I don’t believe in supporting a certain genre of writing because, whether it is science fiction or history, I think that reading different authors broadens one’s outlook. For example, although B.P. is political, one can appreciate the quality of his short stories. Is it right to say that he isn’t a good writer?”

Dhungana’s collection of 100 poems and 30 to 40 short stories over a span of three decades indicates her emphasis on quality. “In India, a writer becomes popular because of one story and it can be clearly seen from this that writing is not about quantity but quality. In Nepal we may have more males than female established writers. But I think that the writing quality of female writers is no less than that of male writers. I also don’t think that women writers should limit their subject matter to family life, sexual discrimination, or domestic violence; they, like men, can reach out to a wide range of topics. The subject matter they choose should not indicate that they are women writers, but good writers.

“I feel that nowadays publishing has become more of a fad than serious work. I mean someone who has written only 10 to 15 poems will already have a book out and have it reviewed. In our time, the practice of literary criticism had not even begun. This is possible because of the facilities that are available through today’s media industry, whereas 30 years ago I don’t think poets and writers in Nepal had conceptualized the power of the print media and what it could do to expose a poet or writer’s work. I feel, however, just because someone writes doesn’t necessarily mean s/he qualifies to be a published writer. His/her work should have much weight.”

Commenting on the status of Nepalese writers, Dhungana says, “I am proud to know that the treasure chest of Nepalese literature holds some strong and powerful poetic verses. But I also know that unless the work of Nepalese poets is translated into English, the rest of the world will remain in the dark regarding our literary wealth. As poets or writers, I think it is important to study the literature of other nations as well as gain an in-depth understanding of our own culture and heritage, because our creations will have to survive the rigors of time."