09
September 2024
12:40 pm Culture Featured

The Enigmatic Khyāh of Newar Folklore


In the dim corners of Newar homes and temples, the mysterious Khyāh lurks—hairy, stout, and ever-watchful. From mischievous protectors to omens of misfortune, these ancient spirits serve as guardians of wealth and darkness, weaving their way through sacred rituals, storied dances, and the rich mythology of the Kathmandu Valley.

The Khyāh (alternatively spelled Khyā or Khyāk) is a mythical figure deeply embedded in the folklore of the Newar people of the Kathmandu Valley. Known for its humanoid yet apelike appearance, it is often described as a short, plump, and hairy creature. In traditional tales, Khyāhs play a prominent role, either as helpful or mischievous beings. A friendly Khyāh is believed to bring prosperity and well-being to a household, while a troublesome one invites chaos and misfortune. In particular, a white Khyāh is thought to be a bearer of good fortune, whereas a black Khyāh is regarded with suspicion, as it could bring illness or bad luck. Some even say that encountering a Khyāh might result in strange ailments or, in more extreme versions of the tale, a tickling death at the hands of the creature.
In Newar culture, Khyāhs are associated with Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth. Artistic depictions of Lakshmi often include Khyāhs standing guard over large, overflowing bags of coins, underscoring their link to prosperity. These creatures are said to dwell in hidden corners of the home, such as attics or dark storerooms, and are known to fear bright lights, especially electric lighting. Their complete opposite, the Kawanchā, represents a skeletal figure, and the two often appear together as characters in traditional Newar dance dramas and sacred performances, guarding temple shrines or engaging in theatrics.
One of the notable cultural celebrations where Khyāhs are brought to life is the Yenya festival in Kathmandu. During this festival, performers don Khyāh costumes and entertain crowds at various market squares, particularly Durbar Square. These dance performances, called Khyāh Pyākhan (ख्याः प्याखं), are marked by humorous antics and acrobatic tumbles that bring laughter and joy to the spectators.
Different types of Khyāhs are mentioned in Newar folklore, each with its own unique traits:
  • Bārāy Khyāh (बाराय् ख्याः): Known to appear in the rooms where girls are kept during their rites of passage.
  • Bhakun Gwārā Khyāh (भकुं ग्वारा ख्याः): This Khyāh, whose name translates to "football," moves around by rolling on the ground.
  • Dhāpalān Khyāh (धापलां ख्याः): Distinguished by its extremely hairy appearance.
  • Lanpan Khyāh (लँपं ख्याः): A mischievous figure that blocks the way of people walking along dark streets.
  • Bun Khyāh: Said to dwell in crop fields.
An Old Newari Tale: The Khyāh of the Storeroom
In the days of old, when the city of Kathmandu was a cluster of quiet homes and temples, there lived a prosperous family in a grand, wooden house. Every corner of their home was filled with light, except for one—the storeroom in the attic, which was always kept dark and unused. Children were forbidden to go near it, for it was said that a Khyāh lived there. The eldest son, Tuyu, had heard many stories about the creature from his grandmother, but being a curious boy, he could not resist the temptation to explore the forbidden attic.
One cold evening, when the rest of the family was busy preparing for the upcoming festival, Tuyu sneaked up the stairs, carrying only a small oil lamp to light his way. As he reached the attic door, he hesitated, but his curiosity got the better of him. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and immediately felt the chill of the dark space. In the corner, nestled among old bags of rice and forgotten treasures, he saw a figure—short, round, and covered in thick hair. It was the Khyāh.
The creature stirred, its large eyes blinking at the dim light of Tuyu’s lamp. It did not seem threatening, only curious, just like the boy. With a trembling voice, Tuyu asked, "Are you the Khyāh who lives in our house?"
The Khyāh nodded slowly, its heavy form shifting. To Tuyu’s surprise, the creature spoke, though its voice was a low, rumbling whisper. "I have watched over your family for many years, guarding the treasures of this home. But as your people bring more light into the world, I grow weaker. I fear the day when there will be no place left for me."
Tuyu, feeling a pang of sympathy, asked, "What can we do to help you?"
The Khyāh chuckled softly. "I do not need much. Just a dark corner and the respect of the household. Do not fear me, for I mean no harm. But remember, if you drive me away completely, the prosperity I bring may leave with me."
From that day forward, Tuyu told no one of his encounter with the Khyāh. But he made sure that the storeroom was never fully illuminated, leaving it as a sanctuary for the creature. And true to the Khyāh's word, the family continued to thrive, their fortunes never waning, all under the silent guardianship of the Khyāh who watched from the shadows.