Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Stop. Stop? STOP! October 31, 2009 The Kathmandu Post
OCT 31 - Stop, stop, stop…” from the middle of the road, a traffic police tells me to park my motorbike on the side of the road. It’s around eight in the morning. I sideline my vehicle, and show my license and blue-book to the man who is asking me to prove that I was driving legitimately. Everything goes well and my daily route and routine to work continues.
The next day, at the same place—near Chovar—I see the traffic crew again. Once again I see a policeman indicating, telling me to stop my bike. Doesn’t matter, I think. I should help them, because they are looking at every other car, truck, and bike on the road; not just mine. Without any delay, I show them my documents, being conscious as I was of the many reckless drivers that had mowed down numerous people, causing accident after accident on Kathmandu’s roads. I am informed that many illegal vehicles were running on the roads, hence the checking. I am all in favour of the traffic police making efforts to at least to enquire about the vehicles in an effort to minimise road accidents and control illegal vehicles.
Day three. On the way to work from Kirtipur to Hattiban, the process is repeated. As always, a policeman is whipping towards me—stop, stop, stop! Left with no alternative, I stop my bike, again. I am a little bewildered at having the same process repeated every day and asked the man if I will be required to show my license everyday henceforth. The policeman tells me to take off my helmet and face-mask—which I have on everyday to protect myself from the Valley’s pollution— and I do so.
The fourth day, I am late for work. As always, I put on my face-mask, sling my office bag over my back, and drive, fast. At the same place, I find the inevitable police crew ushering me to sideline my bike. I decide that I have had enough. Why should I stop my bike to prove myself that I was a legal rider? And how many times?
I try to drive quickly past the police so I can reach work on time, but I am made to stop and repeat the same ritual that I have done for the past three days. I object to the policeman’s action and tell him that I cannot show my license everyday. I tell him that for three days I have been stopping my bike at the same place and for the same reason, and I ask again—Do I need to show my license everyday?
He seems confused and tells me that he doesn’t remember checking me every day. Now I am confused. I tell him that it might not be him, but I get stopped everyday, regardless. To this, his response is that the police crew is in constant circulation, and this might have caused the confusion.
I feel that THAT is a problem the police need to deal with. Why should they force me to stop my bike everyday? I unmask myself and tell the policeman that I do not have time to show my license everyday because I am in a hurry get to work. “Please note my bike number and let me go; I will not stop to show my license from tomorrow.” I say. He starts muttering and cursing.
I am always surprised by the attitudes and behaviour of Kathmandu’s traffic police. Why can’t they keep a record of bikers, instead of stopping them every time? Why do they think that people driving on the road may not have their own priorities? They must understand that even an understanding public will refuse to co-operate with their current method of dealing.
Sometimes, when I am about to be checked at the university gate in Kirtipur, I zoom straight ahead. I then find the traffic crew at Sanepa. Oops! Zip ahead, and again, I find another crew at Ekantakuna, doing the same thing. The other way, from Satdobato to Hattiban, and another squad is on the street. I feel a sense of nausea with all the crews that are out there.
I do not understand. Should I stop every single time or ignore them all save one? How many places should I stop my bike to help the police? If I have to listen to them, how can I reach work on time?
The days continue to pass. Come Monday, and the same process repeats itself. A police ushers me to sideline my bike but I am all geared up, and zip ahead at full speed, ignoring him, and I escape. He yells, “stop, stop, stop!” Hey, I ignore him, and now, I can’t even understand why I stopped so often for an unnecessary check.
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Thursday, October 22, 2009
What’s in a Namaste- Published in KATHMANDU POST, OCT 22, 09
She was greeting all the passengers entering the aircraft with her dazzling smile. The passengers seemed to be in a rush to board the plane to Pokhara. The Namaste offered by the air hostess was greeted differently by different people. When it was my turn to get in, she again greeted me with an energetic smile and Namste. I greeted back with Namaste too. Each time I travel by domestic plane, I see the same greeting from the air hostess. By in the first time I boarded a domestic flight, I was very confused to watch passengers ignoring the greeting offered by the air hostess.
The last time I had got into the plane, a question hit me. Why almost all passengers from Nepal ignore the greeting? Foreign passengers, I found, always returned the greeting. Basically, Namaste is a respectful greeting. It honours people and in our culture indicates the respect and admiration for those being greeted. It brings people closer. In the same way, we find people from other countries greet with hello, hi and other greetings.
I just couldn’t get the cavalier attitude of Nepali passengers out of my mind. To placate my curiosity, I talked with an air hostess serving in a domestic airline on my way to Nepalgunj from Kathmandu. Why did she think most Nepali passengers never bothered to acknowledge her greeting? She said, “People believe that since they have paid for the journey, they need not do any more. These self-important people make me laugh.”
Nilima has experienced that many Nepalis travelling in domestic aeroplane, especially the rich ones, never respond to her greeting. “Look, the foreigners always respond without hesitation. They honour us for we honour them,” Nilima says. To say that Nilima is disappointed at the cold response of her fellow countrymen while the foreigners treat her with respect would be a huge understatement.
I don’t get it. Why wear our pride on our sleeves unnecessarily to make others feel bad and sad? Doing Namaste is our culture and we should try to respond to it gracefully. During my last trip, when the aeroplane landed in Pokhara and as people were getting out, the air hostess, as usual, offered her Namastes; unfortunately almost all Nepali passengers totally ignored her.
If we want to get respect from others we need to know how to respect them. If not, we won’t even be able to respect ourselves. No matter who greets you, you give a measure of your acculturisation and civility responding to the greeting. When I greeted the air hostess at Pokhara with a, she smiled back coyly. I bid goodbye her and disappeared into Pokhara city.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
IT village- Amrit Bhandari THE KATHMANDU POST Monday October 12, 2009
The next day I find another villager calling up a tiller. “Hello, Numlal, are you free today? I have planned to plough my land,” he says. Numlal nodded in affirmative. The villager again dialled up his neighbour, requesting for oxen. “Could you please provide me your oxen for a day?” The neighbour agreed. Job done!
The next evening Bahun Ba (the village priest) was talking on his cell. A villager was requested him to perform Rudri Puja (a process of worshiping god to avoid any untoward incident). He whipped out his cell to confirm the time and date for puja. These are just a few events I noticed in the rural outpost of Wangla.
The use of cell phone has brought people closer and made their lives more comfortable. Isn't mine a real global village, I thought. People here use cell phones for all kinds of tasks. No matter how far the destination, one dial of the cell brings the wished for service to one's doorstep. Ambulance, doctors, consumer goods - all a call away.
I heard about three guys who got married thanks to their cells. “I saw a girl in the bus while going from Sandhikharka to Balkot. I liked her, got her cell number and started sending messages. Without any delay we fell in love and got married,” a newly married guy says. The news and events we hear here in Kathmandu are not new for villagers. The villagers are equally aware, thanks to their cells.
When I noticed these developments in my village, a question sprang to my mind. If my village could produce good vegetables and corns, how beautiful the village would be! The income from these products could help villagers lift their living standards. Expenses on cell phone cannot be compensated without good income. Hence, the government must formulate new policies to motivate the villagers to till their lands, and, in the process, help them earn a good income. I also wish the use of communication can be used for more income generating activities and in exploring new markets.
However, I am happy to see new infrastructures like electricity, motor road, telephone service in my village. How many of them are here because someone dialled up, I wonder. Modern technology, if used properly, can bring a sea change in the lives of rural folks. Are the authorities listening? I just rang up.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
झ्याम्म झ्याम्म पानी पर्यो मन यसै अतासीयो ।
डाँडामाथि चौतारीमा पीपल त्यसै बतासीयो ।।
दुरसम्म मेरा आँखा तिमीलाइ नै हेरिरहे ।
पलपल गोधुलिले प्रर्कितिलाइ चुमीरहयो ।।
आकाशमा कालो बादल मडारीदै घुमीरहयो ।
मेरो मन पानीसँगै भिजीभिजी झुमीरहयो ।।
आशा मेरो तिमी आउँने डाँडामाथि आकाशियो ।
पर्खिएन मधान्यले चौतारीमा बसिरहे ।।
अन्धकारले मलाइ घेर्यो रातभरी फसीरहे ।
मेरो मन पानीसँगै भिजीभिजी झुमीरहयो ।।
आशा मेरो तिमी आउँने अझ गाढा आकाशियो ।।
झ्याम्म झ्याम्म पानी पर्यो मन यसै अतासीयो ।
डाँडामाथि चौतारीमा पीपल त्यसै बतासीयो ।।
तिम्रो प्रितका प्यालाहरु मेरो मनलाइ डसीरहे ।
अन्धकारले मलाइ घेर्यो रातभरी फसीरहे ।।
छपछप छपछप तिमी आयौ पाइतालाको आवाज सुने ।
अन्धकारमै तिमीसँगै प्रिती साट्ने आशा बुने ।।
सुवास छर्यौ टाढाबाटै मेरो मनलाइ मात लाग्यो ।
अन्धकारको अत्यास त तिम्लाइ देखी टाढा भाग्यो ।।
झ्याम्म झ्याम्म पानी पर्यो मन यसै अतासीयो ।
डाँडामाथि चौतारीमा पीपल त्यसै बतासीयो ।।
अग्गालोमा तिमीलाइ राखे मायाप्रिती आकाशियो ।
पलपल गोधुलिले प्रर्कितिलाइ चुमीरहयो ।।
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Social mirror
“Hello, Babu, do you teach computer at your institute?” Bisworaj Pokharel from Kirtipur Municipality-13 was asking a computer institute owner in Kirtipur. The owner nodded indicating that they offered basic computer courses. Bisworaj inquired about the time and fee with the owner and expressed his desire to join. Most of the staff at the institute burst into laughter. The owner inquired if the old man was mistaken. Hadn’t he instead been trying to admit his son or grandchildren? Bisworaj said, “I want to learn computer myself.” But still, no one in the institute believed a 65-year-old man could learn anything, let alone computer. The owner said, “No, no, I don’t believe you! You are here to admit your son, aren’t you?”
Bisworaj was completely baffled. However, in the end, he somehow managed to get himself admitted for a computer course. The callous remarks of the institute owner had pained him no end. He had felt humiliated. He later said, “I thought about my humiliation seriously. What a sorrow! A so-called civilised place like Kathmandu laughs at old people who want to do something. If you have courage and determination, age really does not matter.” A few days later Bisworaj changed his mind and decided he would not, after all, go to the institute. He had already paid half the course fee. “Where people laugh at my enthusiasm to learn and have no respect for me, why should I go there? I would forgo computer literacy rather than compromise my honour.”
I later learned that he wanted to learn computer because his sons and daughters were abroad. He has computer at home. But it remains dysfunctional. He wanted to learn computer “so that I could email my children. I have internet service at my home.”
We make much noise about equality and freedom in modern Nepal. But a society which cannot honour its elderly, someone rightly said, cannot boast of any achievement. Like the old man in this story, many people his age are discouraged and humiliated when they try to learn something new. Other old folks are looked down upon as feeble and good for nothing fellows.
What more do the elderly have save a little self-respect? Is it too much to ask for the elderly that the young generation recognise their contribution and offer them due recognition? After toiling all their lives for their family and society, it hurts when at the fag end their contributions are forgotten and they are looked upon as burdens. Everyone has to get old one day. This is no rocket science! The way we treat our elders today, so will our children treat us when we get old.
Case of topi
One of my friends working in an INGO is always suited and with a tie around in his neck. However, it is the Nepali cap on his head which stands out. A couple of weeks ago, I was taking to him about how the topi added to his personality. Turns out, his attachment with his headgear is not just a matter of dressing elegantly.
Last November, my friend was to return to Nepal from the U.S. En route, he had to fly from Little Rock, Colorado to Los Angeles, California. He completed the journey safely but at his arrival in LA, he learned that he had swapped his air-ticket for a connecting flight with his friend’s. There was no one he knew of in LA; and he didn’t carry phone numbers of his friends.
My friend was getting restless. He was told he had to wait for another day to get a new ticket. My friend sat in a corner, dejected, helpless. There may be many Nepalis living in LA, but how could he find them? Luckily, a few guys from Chitwan were in the airport to see off one of their friends. Spotting one of their countrymen — thanks to my friend’s distinct topi — in apparent distress, they inquired about his problem. They then took him to their LA apartment where he stayed for three days. They also pitched in for his ticket.
What more, at bed time, they sang folk songs to help relieve his tension. “It felt as if I was in Nepal,” he says. With his engaging personality, my friend does not take time to make friends. After waiting three days waiting for ticket, the day came to fly. All the friends waved him goodbye with tearful eyes. “I too was emotional with their hospitality. It was then that I developed new love for my cap,” he says.
The more we are westernised, the more we tend to assimilate the cultures of others, all the while forgetting our own. Furthermore, it’s the habit of quite a few Nepalis to forget everything back home when they land in developed countries. There are some Nepalis living abroad who would not give a fellow Nepali second glance. Getting farther and farther away from their roots, their growing (and misplaced) megalomania will only bring them more suffering. Those who prosper are the ones who carry the pleasure of being Nepalis wherever they go. The hand of support the LA Nepalis extended to my friend in trouble should be a lesson to all other Nepalis. This is again not a call to reach out to people of the same colour and ethnicity, but to embrace the diverse Nepali culture wherever one goes.