JUL 18, 2010,
By AMRIT BHANDARI
Traditions have changed, cultures have assimilated, and new technology has reduced the size of the gigantic world to a small village. Embracing new technology has resulted in shifts in everyone’s behaviour and brought daily life into the public eye; however, there are a few practices people still prefer to keep private. Despite many changes in sexual behaviour in the last 50 years, the perception of having sex still remains a taboo in many of societies around the world. One of my friends who was recently married shares the problems he faces when buying condoms.
Condoms are the easiest ways to enjoy a safe and satisfying sex life. Since the dawn of the early nineteenth century, condoms have been widely in use. They are the most common and safe form of contraceptive. Notwithstanding this fact, my friend says, ”I have suffered while buying condoms. And this remains the most embarrasing moment in my life. I have to buy more stock since we are waiting to start a family till later. When there is a large crowd together in the pharmacy, I often wait before going inside. I feel nervous and hesitant to ask for condoms amidst a crowd of the people”.
This is not his problem alone. There are many more youngesters and people who feel the same way and it comes from the way society views sexual behaviour as taboo. I have also experienced this when buying condoms. Once I went in a pharmacy where there were few boys and girls where there were few boys and girls and asked for condoms. They broke into laughter and I felt embarrased. They looked at me as If I was going somewhere illegal for sex and committing a crime. If you carry condoms, people will think you are promiscuous. A married man said, “I felt paranoid, like someone and might be watching me from around the corner.” Likewise, males feel hesitant to purchase condoms if they see female shopkeepers.
Much has been done to raise awareness on using condoms—explaining the adverse effects of sexually transmitted diseases. Part of the budget has been allocated to develop advertising messages through the mass media. Trainings and workshops have been conducted in different parts of Nepal. Nevertheless, the attitude and perception remain the same. There are some who are educated and aware of the effects of unsafe sex that are still reluctant to use condoms. They explain that using condoms doesn’t allow them to get optimum satisfaction.
Nepal has gone through many changes; however, people in the educated society also have negative attitudes towards sexual behaviour. We need to be aware that this kind of negative attitude adversely affects our health. We need to think broadly and take sexual relations as a biological need of human beings. Only one mistake can destroy your life, unsafe sex can result in many diseases or unwanted pregnancy. It is therefore the safest idea to give up your shyness and buy condoms.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Lives on the line
APR 16 -
Whenever I glide through the chaotic roads of Kathmandu, the many experiences I have baffle me: unavoidable traffic jams everywhere; cows and other animals in the middle of the road; people quarreling with each other or officers to justify their violation of traffic rules, pulling up the sleeves of their shirts, ready to fight; young guys stopping their motorcycles in the centre of the road to light their next cigarette; rotten waste everywhere.
It was about 6 p.m. in Tripureswor and I was winding my way home to Kirtipur when a man on his modified motorcycle zoomed by. It swept everything along its path away with it like a storm. A lady glued to his body was, perhaps, egging him on. Speechless, I kept looking at the bike till it disappeared into the heavy traffic. How that guy managed to navigate his bike through it all still escapes me!
On the other hand, I am clueless as to how an ambulance stuck in a traffic jam, even while its siren loudly wails and its red light brightly flashes, is unable to make any progress on its way to the hospital. What must be going through the minds of the patient’s relatives at those agonising moments, I can only imagine. Are they blaming the traffic or their poor luck?
One day in the middle of the road by Ratna Park, I heard a loud siren of an ambulance approaching from behind and steered my motorcycle to the side so that it could pass. No sooner than had I moved my bike to the side, a gentleman behind me with a luxurious car overtook me followed by what seemed to be an endless stream of motorcycles. The ambulance for which I had moved out of the way remained stuck. People in an air-conditioned cars and uncaring motorcycle drivers, it seems, couldn’t even be bothered to consider the needs of those who might be fighting for their very lives inside the ambulance.
Is it just me or are city dwellers not only losing their patience, but their very humanity? Everyone seems to be in hurry to get their jobs done, nevermind if they might be hampering someone else in the process.
I read an article based on the testimony of an ambulance driver. According to the driver, most of the emergency cases they attend to are life threatening, especially when they turn on their lights and sirens. Emergency driving is very difficult. Ambulances sometimes have to violate road rules to get to the scene of an emergency quickly. These ambulance drivers really do have a tough job. Can’t we help them do their jobs effectively, and more importantly, save lives in the process, by giving up five minutes of our time on the road?
During a programme in Kantipur television last week, Rabindra Mishra, a journalist associated with BBC Nepali Service, was talking about the responsibility of each citizen to contribute towards the betterment of his or her society. The least we could do is show a little empathy towards our countrymen when they are fighting for their very survival.
abamritofficial@gmail.com
Published in Kathmandu Post on 16th April, 2010.
Whenever I glide through the chaotic roads of Kathmandu, the many experiences I have baffle me: unavoidable traffic jams everywhere; cows and other animals in the middle of the road; people quarreling with each other or officers to justify their violation of traffic rules, pulling up the sleeves of their shirts, ready to fight; young guys stopping their motorcycles in the centre of the road to light their next cigarette; rotten waste everywhere.
It was about 6 p.m. in Tripureswor and I was winding my way home to Kirtipur when a man on his modified motorcycle zoomed by. It swept everything along its path away with it like a storm. A lady glued to his body was, perhaps, egging him on. Speechless, I kept looking at the bike till it disappeared into the heavy traffic. How that guy managed to navigate his bike through it all still escapes me!
On the other hand, I am clueless as to how an ambulance stuck in a traffic jam, even while its siren loudly wails and its red light brightly flashes, is unable to make any progress on its way to the hospital. What must be going through the minds of the patient’s relatives at those agonising moments, I can only imagine. Are they blaming the traffic or their poor luck?
One day in the middle of the road by Ratna Park, I heard a loud siren of an ambulance approaching from behind and steered my motorcycle to the side so that it could pass. No sooner than had I moved my bike to the side, a gentleman behind me with a luxurious car overtook me followed by what seemed to be an endless stream of motorcycles. The ambulance for which I had moved out of the way remained stuck. People in an air-conditioned cars and uncaring motorcycle drivers, it seems, couldn’t even be bothered to consider the needs of those who might be fighting for their very lives inside the ambulance.
Is it just me or are city dwellers not only losing their patience, but their very humanity? Everyone seems to be in hurry to get their jobs done, nevermind if they might be hampering someone else in the process.
I read an article based on the testimony of an ambulance driver. According to the driver, most of the emergency cases they attend to are life threatening, especially when they turn on their lights and sirens. Emergency driving is very difficult. Ambulances sometimes have to violate road rules to get to the scene of an emergency quickly. These ambulance drivers really do have a tough job. Can’t we help them do their jobs effectively, and more importantly, save lives in the process, by giving up five minutes of our time on the road?
During a programme in Kantipur television last week, Rabindra Mishra, a journalist associated with BBC Nepali Service, was talking about the responsibility of each citizen to contribute towards the betterment of his or her society. The least we could do is show a little empathy towards our countrymen when they are fighting for their very survival.
abamritofficial@gmail.com
Published in Kathmandu Post on 16th April, 2010.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Your promises- HAPPY NEW YEAER-2067
APR 14 -
Today marks the second day of 2067 BS. As years pass, changes take place, new expectations rise and people make resolutions to change themselves. The excitement of making changes and taking actions are motivating factors to keep our coming days more valuable throughout the year. Resolutions always sound like a good idea, but when it comes to practise, we often get busy or lazy and forget our previous commitment. It’s easy to get excited about a clean slate to finally give up our bad habits or bad practices. Unfortunately, many of us find our resolutions to be fading away within a month. Failing to uphold personal resolutions only affects the individual, but unfortunately, resolutions made in vain by those who curve the fate of the country have wide-spread effects.
I remember the commitments and resolutions political parties fed to the people as the election season began. Their speeches gave a new outlook on the future of the country and directed the people’s hope towards prosperity and peace. The tricky part for politicians has been sticking to these resolutions.
I read an interesting account of how our leaders are committing themselves to their resolutions: “In new Nepal, they said, everything will change, economy will change, and society will change. Optimistic and enthusiastic! I asked them, will you also change? In confusion they looked at each other and one of them replied-- we have not decided this yet!” What an ironic remark! If political leaders want to change and re-structure the country, they must first change their attitudes and re-structure their priorities with this New Year 2067. They cannot continue to place the blame on transition.
If political leaders claim the government is in transition to hide the fact that they are not working hard enough to uphold their resolutions, it is clear they are not ready to give up their luxurious life-style, inclination for corruption, or their habit of compromising at the cost of country. These are just a few types of ‘transitions’ being embraced by our leaders. At some point, the excitement that came along with the leader’s initial commitments wore off, so political leaders need to have a concise and proper plan to challenge the ghost of transition haunting their minds.
I suggest the politicians reflect on their past actions and detoxify their attitudes with the arrival of the New Year. I would just like to suggest a few questions to aid in their reflection — How often do you think about your commitments to the people? When will the transition period come to an end? Do you pay attention to the dreams you shared with the people of transforming the fate of Nepal? When will this transformation take place? What will you do to make these dreams come true? All you have to do now is figure out a programme that works, and make a resolution you can stick to.
Published in Kathmandu Post on April 14, 2010
Today marks the second day of 2067 BS. As years pass, changes take place, new expectations rise and people make resolutions to change themselves. The excitement of making changes and taking actions are motivating factors to keep our coming days more valuable throughout the year. Resolutions always sound like a good idea, but when it comes to practise, we often get busy or lazy and forget our previous commitment. It’s easy to get excited about a clean slate to finally give up our bad habits or bad practices. Unfortunately, many of us find our resolutions to be fading away within a month. Failing to uphold personal resolutions only affects the individual, but unfortunately, resolutions made in vain by those who curve the fate of the country have wide-spread effects.
I remember the commitments and resolutions political parties fed to the people as the election season began. Their speeches gave a new outlook on the future of the country and directed the people’s hope towards prosperity and peace. The tricky part for politicians has been sticking to these resolutions.
I read an interesting account of how our leaders are committing themselves to their resolutions: “In new Nepal, they said, everything will change, economy will change, and society will change. Optimistic and enthusiastic! I asked them, will you also change? In confusion they looked at each other and one of them replied-- we have not decided this yet!” What an ironic remark! If political leaders want to change and re-structure the country, they must first change their attitudes and re-structure their priorities with this New Year 2067. They cannot continue to place the blame on transition.
If political leaders claim the government is in transition to hide the fact that they are not working hard enough to uphold their resolutions, it is clear they are not ready to give up their luxurious life-style, inclination for corruption, or their habit of compromising at the cost of country. These are just a few types of ‘transitions’ being embraced by our leaders. At some point, the excitement that came along with the leader’s initial commitments wore off, so political leaders need to have a concise and proper plan to challenge the ghost of transition haunting their minds.
I suggest the politicians reflect on their past actions and detoxify their attitudes with the arrival of the New Year. I would just like to suggest a few questions to aid in their reflection — How often do you think about your commitments to the people? When will the transition period come to an end? Do you pay attention to the dreams you shared with the people of transforming the fate of Nepal? When will this transformation take place? What will you do to make these dreams come true? All you have to do now is figure out a programme that works, and make a resolution you can stick to.
Published in Kathmandu Post on April 14, 2010
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Stop. Stop? STOP! October 31, 2009 The Kathmandu Post
BY AMRIT BHANDARI
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.
abamritofficial@gmail.com
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.
abamritofficial@gmail.com
Thursday, October 22, 2009
What’s in a Namaste- Published in KATHMANDU POST, OCT 22, 09
Amrit Bhandari
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.
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
“Hello, is this Raila dai speaking?” a villager asked on his mobile phone. “Yes, I am Raila dai.” “Raila dai I need your help. My buffalo needs a breeder bull,” the villager says. This is not the only novel use of cell phone I noticed during my stay in my hometown of Wangla, Arghakhandhi.
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.
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.
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