The Sideline Story Of Bijukchhen

Narayan Man Bijukchhen, also known as Rohit, is a prominent communist leader who is distinguished by his lifelong commitment to politics, culture, and literature. Despite his substantial responsibilities as chairman of the Nepal Workers and Peasants Party, he has consistently prioritised intellectual pursuits, including extensive reading, writing, and cultural engagement. Jelka Chithiharu (Letters From Jail) stands out among the many books to his credit. Recently translated into English, it unveils his lesser-known personal and cultural side.

On 21 August 1988, a devastating earthquake struck Nepal, severely damaging Bhaktapur. The government promised relief measures, and on 25 August, a distribution programme was organised. Coupon distribution was led by former Rastriya Panchayat member Karnaprasad Hyaju, who was not even a Relief and Rescue Sub-committee member. Victims, however, did not receive the coupons; many of those who did were unaffected by the quake. Outraged, the crowd dragged Hyaju to the damaged sites. He was assaulted while the police stood by, doing nothing. Injured, Hyaju was eventually taken to the hospital, where he died later that night. This incident became known as the Bhaktapur Case.

Soon after, police arrested activists, including Rohit, then chairman of the Nepal Workers and Peasants Organisation, accusing them of involvement in Hyaju’s death. His four brothers were forced underground. With a strong grassroots base among farmers, the organisation emerged as a threat to the Panchayat regime. The government of Marich Man Singh saw an opportunity to crush it by charging its leaders. Members were either imprisoned or driven underground, while police harassment at their homes became routine.

Rohit was shuffled through prisons across the Kathmandu Valley. At home, his wife, Shova Pradhan—a schoolteacher and housewife—was left with her elderly mother-in-law and four-year-old son, Subeg. Pregnant at the time, she endured daily police threats and seizures of household belongings. She had no involvement in politics, yet she carried the burden of fear, slander, and loneliness. Still, she shouldered it all, visiting her husband in different prisons with her son on her back.

Moved by her quiet endurance, Rohit began writing to Shova. In his letters, he offered encouragement, political insight, historical reflections, and cultural teachings—using plain, simple language. What began as notes on health, diet, and daily life gradually expanded into broader discussions on society, literature, and heritage. These letters now form Letters From Jail.

The collection reveals Rohit as a political leader and a man deeply engaged with literature, history, and culture. Despite exhausting days among workers and farmers, he used his nights for reading and writing. “Politics alone is not enough,” he once explained. “Politics also means a deep understanding of society. I learnt much from the people and used my resting hours for study.”

His brother Yogendra Man Bijukchhe recalls that Rohit’s rare hours at home were buried in newspapers, books, or notes. This passion is reflected in the letters, where he frequently requested reading materials from his brothers.

Rohit described books, music, and theatre in detail in his correspondence. He discussed Nepal’s leading literary figures, recalling his encounters with Laxmi Prasad Devkota and Balkrishna Sama and his participation in scholarly conferences. He also wrote about world writers such as Dostoevsky, Kawabata, Premchand, Tagore, Sharat Chandra, and Bhishma Sahni. He admired Indian actress Shabana Azmi’s films and Safdar Hashmi’s plays.

The letters were not limited to high literature; they touched on children’s stories, folk tales, and cultural traditions. Through these writings, Shova gradually appreciated the organisation’s value and became active in the Nepal Revolutionary Women’s Association.

Rohit also wrote vividly about art, dance, and sculpture, especially when he learnt of his son Subeg’s interest in fine art. Explaining symbolic gestures in dance, he once wrote: “When a dancer forms a triangle with the fingers, touches it to the chest, lifts it to the face, and opens the hand, it means, ‘My heart blossomed like a flower.’ When she spreads her fingers, shakes the hand, and brings it down, it means, ‘It is raining.’”

The letters also revealed Rohit’s tender reflections on love and marriage. At one point, gossip made Shova wonder if she was his second wife. Though Rohit assured her she was his only one, he eventually revealed a past marriage proposal.

Years earlier, in Darbhanga, India, he had nearly been engaged to a young woman admired by her family and community. But her father worried about Rohit’s political involvement. On the day the wedding date was to be set, Rohit was forced into hiding when police came to arrest protesting farmers. Six months later, the woman’s family renewed the proposal, but with his comrades in prison, Rohit declined. She waited years before eventually marrying someone else. Rohit, deeply committed to his political work, remained unmarried until 44, when he wed Shova, a teacher from Ramechhap. Sadly, Shova died of cancer at 62, three years ago.

Rohit’s political journey began in Gaur, where an Indian teacher, Chintaharan Singh, and communist activist Leelaraj Upadhyaya introduced him to communist thought. His ideological compass remains guided by Marx, Lenin, Mao, Stalin, Ho Chi Minh, and Kim Il Sung. Yet, despite his devotion to these revolutionary figures, Rohit has never chased power for himself. Instead, he appears as tranquil and detached as the Buddha, who has lived for ideas, culture, and the people.

(Shrestha is associated with Gorkhapatra Daily and writes on different issues.)