Shaam-Ah-Awadh 3.0

Shaam-Ah-Awadh 3.0

During a casual bike ride with Shuvam—a friend and constant support for Shaam-Ah-Awadh—we were brainstorming possible venues for our next event. In the middle of that ride, he mentioned students who had once done an art program in an old age home. The moment he said it, I knew that was it. I locked the location in my mind instantly.

The idea of singing alongside grandpas and grandmas felt exciting, something pure and soulful.

Soon after, I visited an old age home near Tinkune Bridge in Kathmandu called Nisahaya Sewa Sadan. It has been around for nearly 50 years. I spoke with the chairperson, who walked me through the specifics—how many members lived there, their sleep schedules, and where we might be able to hold the program. We eventually decided on the yoga hall located on the terrace.

This was our first time attempting something on such a scale—possibly with more than 100 people. It was also the first time we decided to use a sound system; our past two editions had been entirely acoustic.

Old age homes are often treated as charity stops. People visit, donate, take photos, and leave. The residents have grown used to this kind of interaction. But our intention was different—we didn’t come with money or materials to donate, but with music, time, and conversation.

I started visiting Nisahaya Sewa Sadan regularly, just to sit with the residents. I wanted to understand them—where they came from, what they loved, and what their stories were. One week turned into many memorable conversations. I’ll never forget the practice session we had there. There was Devi Aama, a soulful bhajan singer, who was eager to perform. A few others also showed interest.

One of them was an old man with a warm smile who lived on the ground floor. (I’m terrible with names, unfortunately.) He chose to sing Narayan Gopal’s songs. I printed out the lyrics and we practiced together. After rehearsals, we would take walks and share paan (nuts). I felt so at ease around them—talking about life felt effortless.

Three days before the event, I learned that the chairperson hadn’t formally approved the event on paper yet. I was stressed and disappointed—we had already released the posters. I even began scouting alternate venues. But after multiple calls to the manager, we finally received permission.

For this edition, we invited Appeal Poudel, frontman of Sonagi Blues Band, who plays sarod, guitar, and sings folk songs. We also had the talented Shasank Sapkota, who performed bhajans and ghazals.

Event Day

On the day of the event, everyone at the old age home was dressed and ready at the venue—half an hour early. It was a beautiful sight.

This edition posed a new challenge for us: a daytime event. Since “Shaam-Ah” literally reflects an evening experience, hosting it during the day made it tough to attract an outside audience. Still, 30+ people showed up. We offered special discounts to parents attending with their children—to encourage quality time between generations. One of our regular attendees brought their mother along, which became one of the most touching moments of the day.

Because the event was large and many of our friends were caught up in their own commitments, managing everything—from logistics to timekeeping—fell heavily on my shoulders. We had to wrap up by 6 p.m.

The sound system took time to set up. The show felt experimental—we had three new performers from the old age home, three poets, two singers, along with Rupesh Jha ji and myself. A part of me feared the show might turn dull. But thankfully, a few familiar faces sat right up front, clapping, chanting, and cheering us on. That energy kept the show alive.

The event was executed successfully. Our post-event ritual, as always, was to return the venue to its original state. This time was no different. After cleaning, we all sat together and shared samosas. The manager, surprised by how the event unfolded, said to me, “You don’t have a poster here, you’re not backed by any brand, and you didn’t even take many pictures—this is rare here.” I was simply relieved that people had a good time. That we had made it happen.

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