Nepal music legend exiled in Md.

By Foster Klug, Associated Press Writer, 10/14/2003

BALTIMORE -- For millions of Nepalese worldwide, Prem Raja Mahat's rich, mellow voice is an instant portal to an idyllic picture of life and love beneath the vistas of the highest mountain range in the world.

The Nepalese music superstar is currently crafting his 47th album -- while working as a restaurant manager in Baltimore, where he makes about three times what he did as his country's version of Bruce Springsteen.

Mahat abandoned fame and his homeland seven years ago to protect his wife and four school-aged children from an insurgency that has killed more than 7,000 people. Guerrillas inspired by the late Chinese revolutionary leader Mao Zedong have fought since 1996 to replace Nepal's constitutional monarchy with a communist state. The government calls them terrorists.

"I miss Nepal, because they love me there. I miss being famous," Mahat said recently, sipping a frothy yogurt lassi and watching the early dinner crowd stroll past the Mughal Garden restaurant, where he earns about $3,000 a month.

"But in my country there is fighting and death and poverty. That is why I left," he said. "Every parent in the world ... wants to do well for their children. I am no different."

There are approximately 50,000 Nepalese in the United States, according to Krishna Aryal, first secretary at the Embassy of Nepal in Washington.

Forty percent of Nepal's 23 million people live in grinding poverty, and tourism to Katmandu, the country's culturally rich capital, and Mt. Everest, which straddles the Nepal-China border, has dropped because of the violence. The Himalayan kingdom lies between China and India.

Todd Lewis, a professor of religion at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass., who has lived in Nepal periodically over the past 23 years, said Nepalese from all parts of society have left the country in search of better lives.

"Having talent, even recording, doesn't necessarily get you anywhere financially in Nepal," Lewis said. "Even a modest, middle-class life here running a restaurant would still be vastly more lucrative than staying in Nepal and living off of one of the poorest communities in the world."

Mahat, 42, is one of the most famous people to have left Nepal. While fans at home feel the loss, Nepalese in the United States revel in the handful of concerts he gives every year.

When Mahat takes the stage, he usually carries a sarangi, a small stringed instrument that's played upright, like a miniature cello. He wears a high topi, the national cap of Nepal, and a brightly colored vest. His hit love song from 2002, "Hiunchulima Hiun," or "Snow in the Snowcapped Mountains," runs more than 20 minutes.

"We call him the 'King of Folk Songs,'" said Ram Kharel, who hosts an American public access television show on Nepalese news and culture. "At every Nepalese event in America, even if he's not there, people sing his songs. He is that popular."

Mahat originally came to the United States to visit friends. He decided to stay when he realized the opportunities his children would have here. Mahat plans to return once the violence subsides and his children are grown. In the meantime, he visits Nepal every year or so to record the songs he writes before his shift at the restaurant.

The important thing, he said, is that his children understand what he has given up -- and why.

"They thank me for bringing them here and giving them this opportunity," he said, flashing a wide, album-cover smile. "They understand my sacrifice, that I am giving up my name and good job -- for them."

For people who grew up idolizing Mahat, seeing their hero toiling in an everyday job can be jarring.

"We are a little sad because he is so famous in Nepal. It would be great for him to be singing rather than working in a restaurant," said Roshanee Shrestha, who recently watched him bus tables and greet guests. She first heard Mahat's voice as a little girl, curled up in her home in the shadow of the snowcapped Himalayas.

"In the villages of Nepal, I think he is like a Michael Jackson," said Shrestha, 30, who now runs a variety store outside Baltimore. "Even now, in America, where you have electricity 24 hours a day and water running in your house, his voice still reminds me of home."