The Himalayas on the Turntable: Toeshey, Nangma and the Dranyen

The classical genres of Toeshey and Nangma are inseparable from the tuneful accompaniment of instruments such as the *dranyen*. Likewise, throughout Tibet’s history, singing and dancing have remained steadfast companions to its people—whether through private songs brimming with deep emotion or lively communal events of music and movement. This deeply rooted sonic heritage has created a nourishing environment for innovative musical expressions to flourish.

Through the Himalayan passes, merchant caravans brought the record player (སྐད་པར་བན་ཙི།)—an entirely new sound medium—into the towns of Ü-Tsang during the early twentieth century, as trade between Tibet and South Asia expanded. Initially, those black discs carried mainly folk melodies that were popular across South Asia. In the end, an intense fondness for music seems deeply embedded in the very identity of Tibet’s people.

In the mid-1940s, the British Trade Mission, based at Dekyilingka in Lhasa, asked the well-known local group "Nangma Giduk" to play several classic works, and the master recordings were later made in Lhasa itself. Also captured during those recording sessions were Tibetan opera pieces performed by Zashi Dunzhu, a master of the Jomolang Tibetan Opera Troupe, and by Minzhu Pu, a local government official, along with others.

Once the master discs arrived at factories via the southern trade route and were turned into records, they made the return trip along that same road to Lhasa, marking a fresh milestone in how music circulated. In people's homes, these records served to elevate the refined mood at social gatherings; in the summer Lingka season, the record player might be carried outside under the shade of green trees, with music interweaving with laughter and impromptu dancing.

HMV, a chain record store that originated in the United Kingdom, takes both its name and logo from the painting "His Master's Voice," created by artist Francis Barraud. That artwork shows the dog Nipper listening to a gramophone. In 1899, the painting was sold to the Gramophone Company for use as a trademark. Back then, the British HMV brand was the record player most frequently encountered in the Lhasa area.

Lhasa locals dubbed the gramophone the "Dog Brand Record Player" (ཁྱི་ལན་པར་སྐད་པར།) because of its distinctive dog logo. Before becoming a chain of record shops, the company had originally manufactured gramophones and distributed records. The phonograph's stylus, as it turns out, also came to serve an unexpected practical purpose.

During that period, lower-ranking local officials were barred by hair regulations from wearing their hair in the traditional "Bajor" (སྤ་ལྕོག) knot; instead, they had to arrange it in a single long braid (ལྕང་ལོ།) extending down the back of the head. These officials were typically seen wearing the "Bodog" official hat (འབོག་དོ།).

Even though high-ranking officials' headgear featured a specially designed hole to hold the 'Bajor' hairstyle, lower-ranking officials found their Bodog hats awkward because of the flat crown and lack of fixed straps. In a resourceful fix, they threaded three phonograph needles through both the brim and their braids, which resolved the difficulty while creating an unusual connection between modern devices and conventional dress. Melody on the Radio.

In the early 1950s, the completion of the Qinghai-Tibet and Sichuan-Tibet highways greatly increased interaction between Tibet and the Chinese interior, causing records of mainland operas and folk songs to flood into Lhasa and broaden residents' listening experience. For many Lhasa citizens who did not own record players, street loudspeakers and, soon after, cinemas provided their first and main exposure to new music.

The history of film screenings in Tibet is intimately connected with the community known as the "Tibetan Muslim" (ལྷ་སའི་ཁ་ཆེ།). That community emerged from Muslim merchants who, from the fourteenth century onward, settled in the Hebaling and Raosai areas and made regular journeys between South Asia and Ü-Tsang. Film, in turn, naturally comes into view as another modern entertainment taking root in the snowy region.

Their astute grasp of opportunities in the cultural entertainment sector was shown by this venture—combined with their broad merchandise lineup—which sparked immense excitement and interest. It originated when the thriving film industry in South Asia led them to import portable 8.5mm projectors into Lhasa, where they screened films for family and friends in private residences.

Abdul Wahid, a Tibetan Muslim trader, opened Lhasa's first small-scale public cinema in April 1952 next to Liu Xia's Mansion (སྣེའུ་ཤར།), in the city's southern area, with most screenings featuring South Asian films. The theater's audio was broadcast outside, and the melodious film songs drifting through Lhasa's streets paved the way for many residents' first exposure to radio music. Demand for moviegoing kept increasing.

At roughly that same time, the Tibet Military Region Cultural Troupe also embarked on a methodical effort to study and compose Tibetan songs and dances. The troupe had just been set up in the Meldro Gyaltsen Garden (མེ་ཏོག་སྐྱེད་ཚལ།), a site southwest of the old city where the Amban's office once stood. These pieces were broadcast on public radio, enriching the city's acoustic environment still further.

The cinema "Deji Weilang" (བདེ་སྐྱིད་འོད་སྣང་།; "Happiness Light Sensation"), erected in the Lugo area (ཀླུ་སྒུག་སྡེར་ཐང་།) in 1957, quickly became the hub of Lhasa's cultural life. With financial support from Liu Xia, Langton, the Muslim merchant Ahaiti, and others, it was equipped with an imported 32mm projector and held three showings each day, featuring films from both mainland China and South Asia.

On May 29, 1953, the first successful ascent of Mount Everest was achieved by New Zealand mountaineer Edmund Hillary and Nepalese Sherpa Tenzing Norgay (བསྟན་འཛིན་ནོར་རྒྱས།). Meanwhile, without ever entering a movie theater, plenty of residents joyfully gathered below the loudspeakers to hear those moving film scores.

The global headlines generated by their historic achievement inspired the Nepali song "Hamro Tenzing Sherpa Le"—"Our Sherpa Tenzing has done it." Amid the diverse musical offerings broadcast through radio, records, and screens in 1950s Lhasa, this melody from a neighboring country gained particular prominence.

Celebrated Nepali musician Dharma Raj Thapa (1924–2014), known as the "Voice of Nepal's Folk Soul," devoted his life to gathering, preserving, and promoting Nepali folk ballads, and became a key figure in modernizing Nepali folk music and shaping national identity. Drawing swift inspiration from this event, he composed "Hamro Tenzing Sherpa Le" (meaning "Our Sherpa Tenzing has done it")—an epic truly forged in melody.

Dharma Raj Thapa transformed the stories of contemporary heroes into a shared cultural memory by drawing on the language and folk song traditions of the people. His writings skillfully captured this glory, which belonged to the entire nation, and safeguarded it for future generations.

The song's structure, which is well designed for group singing, stems from its uncomplicated narrative lines, its refrain that repeatedly restates identity using "Our Sherpa Tenzing has done it," and its ending that enhances the central theme. (Dharma Raj Thapa Commemorative Stamp, 2017, Google)

Ultimately, the song became a deep emblem of national identity and established a template for "current-event folk songs." Through broadcasting, it spread quickly throughout Nepal—in both urban and rural areas—during the 1950s, when radio was the leading mass medium, and it was featured at many kinds of social gatherings. Its lyrics are: "Our Sherpa Tenzing has climbed the Himalayas. Drums resound, cheers rise, dancing and swirling to the rhythm. The Nepali star who scaled the peak—Tenzing.

Zhaxi Ciren, who holds the designation of national-level inheritor of intangible cultural heritage, retains vivid memories of that period. "In the 1950s, I worked at the Potala Palace as a dance boy in the Garpa Music Ensemble," he says. One recollection involves a record whose lyrics proclaimed, "The whole world is amazed and applauds you, brother," a homage to the Sherpa hero that made its way to Lhasa via the China-Nepal trade route. Since Tenzing Norgay belonged to the Sherpa community—a subgroup of the Tibetan people—his achievement seemed very close to them, and it instilled a deep sense of pride among the people of Lhasa.

In 1953, we listened to the new Nepali song 'Hamro Tenzing Sherpa Le' on a very fine record player owned by a 'Kazare' (ཁ་ཚ་ར།, a Tibetan-Nepalese mixed ethnic group) family, into which my brother had married. I frequently went to their home to enjoy records. Back then, the tale of Tenzing Norgay's summit of Mount Everest was widely known across Lhasa.

Because he was a Sherpa—one of the Tibetan people's branches—he felt a deep connection to the city's residents, who spoke admiringly of him and regarded his achievement as extraordinary. This period is captured in a photograph titled "People Listening to a Record Player During a Lingka Gathering" (taken in the 1950s, and featured in "The Central Delegation in Tibet"). At that time, these records had reached the area via the China-Nepal trade route.

When the tune’s connection to Tenzing Norgay’s accomplishment became clear to us, it moved rapidly through Lhasa’s streets. Because the Nepali lyrics lay beyond our comprehension, we committed only the recognizable opening—‘ཨམ་རོ་བསྟན་འཛིན་ཤར་པ་རེད། ཅོ་རོ་ཉི་མ་ཅོ་ཅོ་རེད།’ (transliteration)—to memory, improvising the remainder with loosely imitated, invented Nepali sounds. In Elder Zhaxi Ciren’s telling, these everyday moments of cultural transmission come vividly alive. An even more striking fusion of cultures was on the horizon.

After passing through geographic and cultural frontiers, a hymn for a Nepalese national hero—brimming with specific events and exultant cries—was skillfully transformed into a lyrical folk song in Lhasa. This arose when certain Lhasa inhabitants attempted to fit traditional Tibetan folk lyrics onto the framework of that imported melody, resulting in new, entirely localized Tibetan renditions.

This widely shared lyric passage illustrates how the song portrays the homeland's landscape through rich metaphor and poetic language: ང་ཚོའི་ལུང་པའི་ཕུ་ནས། གསེར་གྱི་ཆུ་གཅིག་རྒྱུག་བྱུང་། གསེར་ཆུ་གང་འགྲོའི་ས་ལ། ལོ་ཡག་རྩ་བ་ཚུགས་སོང་། Sweet streams flow from the snow-capped mountains of my homeland Into the valley's golden land Wherever the clear spring passes Late autumn hangs heavy with bountiful grain ཤེལ་བྲག་མཐོ་བའི་སྒང་ལ། མཐོ་རིང་སྐས་འཛེགས་བཙུགས་ཡོད། དབུ་རྒྱན་མཚར་བའི་སྒང་ལ། སྨན་རྩེ་ཡོལ་ལ་བཏགས་ཡོད། Cloud-ladders hang from the cliff's edge, softly swirling like gauze, high into the clear sky as if draping over the mountain's jeweled crown a cloak woven from rainbow light The same melody, however, stirs different emotions and mental images among listeners—from the phrase "Our Tenzing climbed the mountain peak" to "Sweet streams flow from the snow-capped mountains of my homeland"—yet in both cases, the sentiment is rooted in a lasting devotion to the ground beneath their feet.

Modern technology has changed how music is transmitted and received, and the path of this song closely traces Lhasa's quiet yet profound sonic transformation during the mid-twentieth century—moving from ancient solo oral singing to private record listening, and from street-corner public broadcasts to the audiovisual richness of cinemas. Culture travels along trade routes and through airwaves, where it is heard, reinterpreted, and reshaped in new settings until it acquires a distinct local identity.

Hamro Tenzing Sherpa Le" exemplifies this phenomenon with particular clarity. Rather than simply transferring a tune across borders, it stands as a vivid example of cultural blending: a Nepalese national anthem tied to a particular era in the country's history, whose emotional appeal and ease of transmission allowed it to resonate profoundly with audiences in Lhasa.

This history powerfully reminds us that culture grows through flexibility and adaptation, as communities reshape external influences into expressions of their own inner life. By incorporating local lyrics, it blended with Tibet's poetic heritage and emotional sensibilities, creating a distinctive link between the artistic principles and shared sentiments of two Himalayan cultural regions.