"Gosh! What a wild swirl, it’s so shameful and pathetic that we call this Kathmandu Valley, the capital city of Nepal," screams a passenger from the backseat of a vehicle whizzing in its Kirtipur- Ratnapark route. The micro-bus is cramped with passengers bumping against each other – toddlers to sexagenarian, school children to professionals, male and females- as if the bus is meant to transport the mass merchandise. The plights of female passengers and elderly are specifically worse to explicate; they’re so helpless just to screech. I am sitting squeezed between two obese men on the second row of 12 seater microbus, which is on the road with 18 people and more counting as the bus stops literally at every point to pick more passengers. Another stop- two more women get into the bus, one with a huge purse and the other with her backpack just to suffocate us. With defective air-conditioning system, dusty seats, broken window glasses, impoverished interiors and stinky odor, the passenger-carrying vehicle will be disqualified even to carry merchandise if real inspections are to be carried out. No sooner I try to escape the rancid smell by taking my head out of the window, huge smoke emitted by other running vehicles compels me to get lost inside and endure.
"Balkhu, Balkhu, - is there somebody to get off at Balkhu?" an impoverished kid in his early teen proud to be the driver’s help shouts at everyone. Noting that nobody appeared to be ready to descend, he meanwhile calls people up around if he can get them in. I just ponder if there’s space for a new passenger to stand up. Passengers shrugging their shoulders inside the overly crowded micro-bus beseeched “Oh bhai (brother) how many people you want to carry? The micro is already over occupied and we can’t even breathe well here. Do not call other passengers, let's move." However, the little boy was just oblivious of the plea and pang of passengers and only concerned of nickel and dimes.
Gee! To my utter surprise, a young lady with slim and sassy outfit wearing black spectacle is about to get into the overcrowded micro. Oops! Passengers started getting closer squeezing further one another in their seats. Everyone was apparently sweating buckets and gasping for air; I suddenly felt horrible pain on my toes and swung my body backward and forward in order to find my leg trodden. The young lady while trying to find an empty space inside the bus was treading on my toe, untidily turning my polished shoes into filthy and dusty ones, "Oh madam, dislodge your leg, please," I expressed in complete politeness, my voice was lost the midst of crowd. "Oh, sister! Please remove your leg," I shouted changing my salutation.
Kalimati, Kalimati, the little boy shouted in tandem with the driver, I just felt that we arrived at Kalimati as it was apparently impossible to peep outside to confirm, one commuter from the last seat vociferated "Chha, Chha" – "yes please stop, I am getting off here," I experienced a movement of the people within, some were sidelining to let the man get off, others were hurrying to take the seat he occupied. Passengers started jostling each other to swoop up the seat- while a woman was trying to take over the seat; a gentleman took no time in pouncing on the seat as if a hungry tiger attacked its prey.
The journey continues as the micro left Kalimati dropping a passenger off there and picking few more people- everyone is profusely sweating surrounded by unpleasant air, smoke and dust and restlessly hoping to get to their destination at the earliest possible. Some were heading to their offices, while others to hospitals and schools and yet others to shopping, but all were restless, tired and irked with the transportation system in the heart of Nepal, a capital city, Kathmandu.
No sooner had the bus reached to Tripureswor, it was jammed in one of those worst traffics of Kathmandu, commuting woes got even worse added by scorching heat, incredibly crowded passenger population inside the bus and adulterated air; I could no longer put up with the chaotic state of travel, physical and mentally and finally I got off from the bus even though my destination was little far from the place. I discovered strolling down the road was far better off than taking the bus. It is the everyday reality of those who travel in the Kathmandu city and it has become a fate that everybody is forced to accept. The trauma of one day commute I had to undergo few weeks ago is more than enough to exhibit a sorry state of nation. Thank god, I could get my bike serviced the next day.
My commuting saga doesn’t end here however. After getting off from the bus, I was walking towards Sundhara, in front of World Trade Center, Tripureswor just to find out potholes on the road filled with dirty water and containers of trashes scattered everywhere. To my arrant dismay, a school bus carrying school children recklessly passed through the road sprinkling the sewage water over my pantaloons, whom to curse? I sadly accepted it and on way to Sundhara, I found a hotel where asked for water and cleansed off my pantaloons.
One of my distant relatives from village had recently been to Kathmandu visit for the first time. He ironically said me," It is not like a capital city what I thought while I was in the village; it is a whole different thing in here. How do you afford to live in this gehenna?" He was arguably very right as he experienced shortage of drinking water, incessant load-shedding problem, pitiful roads with potholes filled with sewage water, hours-long traffic jams, rubbish and garbage everywhere and adulterated air with abundant supply of vehicle emitted smoke and dust. He didn’t even want to visit Singh Durbar and former royal palace, so-called major landmarks of the city.
It is unfortunate but real to recall the sweet slogans delivered by top brass of major political parties including current and former prime ministers every now and then that the city was going to transform into a Singapore-like utopian land upon their taking of the government; nothing has come to fruition regardless of who has come to power. The state of state is so analogous to the realities of microbus- dysfunctional air conditioning (load shedding traumas), broken window glasses (bogus promises), overcrowded passengers (jumbo cabinet), filthy, smoky and dusty air (moral, ethical and social wrongdoings) and impoverished interior (pathetic infrastructure). I am just mortified to be the denizen of the country where the government and its constituencies can’t even keep the city orderly, clean and comforting. To their sheer shamelessness, inaptness, absurdity and stubbornness, I can ask one more question with a pinch of hope - how can you write statute of the nation? Perhaps my kids will only get right answers.
The writer has a Master Degree in Anthropology.
