Colombo diaries day II: Sini Sambool,Herbal Garden and Buddha Temple

14^th July 2013 Sunday

It was nearly 1 at night when I slept on first night in Colombo on Saturday. I connected to the internet, emailed family that I was safe. And of course, clicked on facebook and posted a mandatory status to let my friends out there to know ( particularly srilankan friends whom I was planning to meet) that I arrived safe and sound. Earlier in the night, before we departed to our rooms, I asked my friends to fix the time for meeting for breakfast tomorrow morning. Everyone decided on 6.30.

My eyes opened at 5 am in morning, call it advantage of teaching morning college, I have got this natural alarm clock in my head, which goes off sometimes even before 4 am ( which  gives me more trouble than comfort at times like these). I showered, changed into the beautiful Skirt in Nepal that I bought to blend in with Srilankan women.  Purnima, who was generous with tips in Srilanka advised about wearing white clothes to blend in which had some perks. So, off I went to breakfast on 4^th floor of hotel. Grand Oriental had a excellent staff. After "hot water fiasco" last night, perhaps everybody knew me as a "hot water" lady and would ask "mam, you have got hot water?", " did you get hot water?", "Do you need hot water?". On my last day at this hotel as I write on this memories, I think every single staff from reception, room service and housekeeping knows about my "hot water", ahhh this tells me I need to be more discreet in future.

So, here I was in one of the best hotels in Colombo. The dining hall overlooked a beautiful harbor.  I made friends with one wonderful Srilankan waiter Meelaka Gamage who worked on the dining hall. He had such a beautiful smile that was natural, it was not fake, I could tell. He watched me bemused with my great interest in Srilankan food. Thanks to Handun, Rashmi and Praveena I already knew that tingling spicy taste of Seeni Sambol and Pittu with coconut milk. Meelaka has given me a recipe for Seeni Sambol. I am going to make it someday in Nepal. There were options for continental breakfast ( bread, jam, fruits, museli with cold milk, danishes and cakes). But I straight-ahead moved to Srilankan food. That day they had porridge from Aloe Vera and it was very healthy and yummy.

Many people in Nepal particularly, have commented about my habit of talking about food. Once in one of my trips, my travel mate even ridiculed my fascination with food, labeling me as someone who is hungry everytime and somebody stupid to have this fascination with food. She said, "I don't care about what I eat, I am not like you, I eat whatever I find". I felt humiliated. I think food is a basic part of your life. Your taste in food defines you, it influences your thoughts and actions. So, let's not dismiss food as trivial. Especially, when you travel, food becomes even more important. Through food, through your taste buds, through your tongue, you experience and feel the place. In the end when your visit ends, you still remember those tastes, sensation and the feeling it brought you in your stomach and in your heart. So, I am not ashamed anymore to talk about it. So, I hereby would like to declare that, "yes, I am a food enthusiast, I love food, I love to eat, I love to blurp even" and that is my business. Don't tell me that my love for food is something insignificant, childish even. Food is my own way to get connected with people, food bonds people like nothing can. Share a meal with someone and you will realize that your relationship has gone to the next level.

So, in empty dining hall, I was the first person to come for breakfast. Should I start or wait for friends to arrive: I was in dillema. But rumbling of my stomach was getting louder and I had to do something about it. My favorite waiter brought a hot water in a bowl with a slice of lemon. That was for washing your hands before you start eating with your hands. Like Nepali daalbhat, Srilankan food is best eaten by hand, licking your fingers, forgetting your inhibitions. Whoever thinks eating by spoon is mark of sophistication and cleanliness need to reexamine their belief, seriously. The way you feel good food in your hands and when you lick fingers after the end of fulfilling meal, you feel Spoon is just so useless.

My other friend had arrived by 7 am and other two friends were lost somewhere. We called their room but no answer, what became of them? They, finally arrived panting to the dining hall and started asking me" where were you Neeti mam, we knocked the door several times". I asked what time, they said after 6.30. Well, earlier agreed time was 6.30 and we were meeting in dining room, so, how can they find me in room. Then, they went in hotel lobby and waited for us some more. Now, here is a tip for everybody travelling in a group. It is a free advice: take it or leave it. One needs to remember to set up clear communication about where and when to meet as a group. If you don't do that, then it sours the relationship with misunderstandings that you did not create. And I think seriously about agreed meeting points.

The first part of morning was spent on exploring options. There was a debate whether we go for quality experiences that cost like hell ( 100USD) for whole day tour, later with the goodwill dropped to 80 USD but still that was too much for me to spend in one whole day. I don't believe, expensive is always better. It was nearly decided to depart ourselves with our very dear 80 USD. Fortunately I and other friend explored two other options and fortunately we were able to save nearly 50% more than previous deal. So, off we went to the Kandy Tour. This is the most famous tourist destination nearby Colombo. It is about 3,4 hours ride from our hotel. Luckily the driver was same: the one who came to airport to receive yes. Yes, the one who christened me as Aneeti, we had already liked his behavior and helpful nature.

So, on the way, we stopped nearby the giant statue of Buddha and took some pictures. On the road, we had that "important" discussion again, which was creating more confusion fortunately we sorted out our differences and moved ahead. During travel we shared each other's stories and experiences. In my travels and talking with people, I have begun to form the patterns of communications with different people. My pattern of communications is:  I like to know the person who is next to them, I like to hear their story, if they feel comfortable with me. And I know, I talk a bit about myself. For people who do not understand me, I will sound narcissistic, too interested in myself. Yes, I have that a bit. But, I am equally interested in other people's stories and I feel when someone tells me something about them, I need to tell them something about me too. Each people have their own way of communicating things. For me, I find it hard to adjust when people twist and turn every statement spoken and go on a lengthy monologue just to prove a point with obvious indication that what one thinks is better.  And some people are silent, very diplomatic, thinking over every word they speak. Oh, the day I learn this art of diplomacy, I am working on it

So, on the way, we stopped for coconut water, a great privilege of being in Srilanka. We shot some pictures and moved towards a Herbal Garden. We met Dr. Indika from Luck Uyana, herbal and medicines garden. We were greeted by the staffs there and herbal garden was beautiful. We applied some aloe vera skin lotion and it smelled so natural. This made us think, Nepal is rich in herbs and we should be able to develop similar strategies. Looking at Srilankan herb gardens, one can think about how Nepal can establish new tourist attraction sites. And another important source of revenue will be of course herbal products. These days, people do not hesitate to spend more on herbal products if they are pure and authentic. We tried head massage and neck massage and it was like heaven. And all ladies out there, who are troubled with their skin hair, Srilankan hair removing cream works magic. According to India ( hope he is not exaggerating), if one spends around 6,000 Srilankan Rs and if you apply according to requirement ( they have clear instructions). Well, this time, didn't have enough money, may be in next visit, I will think about it hehehehehe. So, ladies out there, if you will pay me back absolutely, ( I could have got it as a gift but its too expensive), I can still get you this, while I am still here.

After that, we went to Srilankan Tea factory and observed how tea is made. I bought some Srilankan Tea. Come to my home if you wish to taste, okay. And if you come within one week of my arrival, there will be some srilankan sweets left too. After that, we went to Gem Factory, glittering gems attracted my eyes and I wished I was richer, I wanted some for myself, some for my mother, some for my two best friends Hajuri and Laxmi, Millie and Anju but what to do? May be in next visit, I will be more loaded with cash……………..one can dream…………….

Then, we were hungry, terribly hungry. Our driver took us to budget eatery and in 90Rs Srilankan we had good food. But Nepali habit of eating rice with soupy daal made us difficult to swallow rice. We tasted some Srilankan Sweets and they were yummy. Then, off we went to Buddha Temple. Since morning, I wanted to buy Srilankan Sim card to call my friends and to communicate with them about my plans and whereabouts so that we could meet. But it was already 4 pm but no sign of sim card, at times we were too busy to notice the sim card shops other times, I remembered but then there were no shops around.

So finally our driver took me to a mobile shop nearby Buddha temple and then I purchased dialog sim card for 150 Rs and topped up with 100 Rs and I still have like 99 Rs credit. Buddha temple was very beautiful. Srilankans dressed in cotton shirts, skirs and lungi carrying  beautiful lotus flowers was a beautiful sight to watch. I cliked many photos of local people and they were happy to pose. I found Srilankan people very helpful and being a Nepali, and coming from a land where Buddha was born helped a lot.

Then, we came back. One the way, we entered one restaurant for dinner but soon came out because our non-vegetarian wanted to try fish curry. The restaurant was good but waiter misunderstood and brought us less than we ordered. Then, it was complicated to wait another 15 minutes for it to be cooked again. So, we decided to pacify our stomach by fruits but fruits were bit expensive. One of my friend bought an apple and it cost her 70Rs, yes not a kilo but one single apple.

We all dozed off in a car on the way to our hotel. It was nearly 10 when we arrived with tired body. Soon, I feel asleep in a new bed. And of course, next morning, my natural alarm clock went off exactly at 5 in morning. After morning ablutions, I started a new day: first day of conference. More in next update. Thank you for reading.

 

Colombo diaries: Day I

 Colombo diaries

Day I: 13^th July 2013

I believe travelling makes one a better person. When you travel, you learn new things, be adaptable and more understanding about the differences. It helps you to loosen up, let go your inhibitions, fear and prejudices. It makes you rediscover an unexplored dimension of your personality. It helps you to see that there are so many wonderful people out there to meet, to talk to  and hear their stories.

I always look forward to travel. This time, opportunity of a conference brought me to Srilanka. Me and group of 3 friends from Nepal were attending International Conference in women's studies in Colombo from July 15-16 2013. So, we set off early morning from Nepal on 13^th July Saturday 2013. We took early morning flight of Jet airways to Delhi. Nearby my seat was an elderly woman in her 80s travelling all by herself. I asked her "are you alone". Then she answered, 'aren't you my daughter, I am not alone". That touched my heart.

I moved on towards her seat. She was travelling to London to live there for remaining days of her life. Her son had received green card. She was happy about meeting them and living with them, but she was anxious about whether she will be able to understand and pass through the complicated procedures of airport. I tried to explain her necessary things looking at her ticket.  She had a false teeth and it was hurting her too much. After we became familiar with each other, she became comfortable to take out her false teeth and she began her life story.

She was born in Benaras, India and came back to Nepal and married Nepal man. "He was good man, so handsome", she said. It had been nearly 18 years since he died. At one point, she went to toilet and on the way back, she realized that she tied very strong knot in her trousers. I helped to untie that and she had tears in my eyes and kept on doing Namaste to me countless time, I felt uncomfortable.  Then, I began to ponder on why do we help people? I have this strong desire to help people. Everybody likes to be thanked and appreciated for what they did. I am no different. I help because, I feel it makes a difference in someone's life. I also help because I believe in a theory of "circle of help". I think when you help people, you create a intricate "circle of help". It is not necessary that you will be reciprocated for help from the same person whom you helped, but someday somewhere when you are in trouble, when you need someone, I strongly believe, there will be another person out there who will help you.  A desire to help is actually also guided by selfishness, but it can be regarded as "refined selfishness".  I continue to help people because, you get a feeling of peace and calm after helping somebody. I help for this "lightness of heart" that I feel after I help somebody. So, in that sense, one can say helpful people are selfish, because whether we admit or not, we help people to get this "feeling", to be appreciated, but we are not doing any harm but rather making a difference, is that a bad thing?  

We had a long transit, nearly 7 hours and we had lot s of time to kill. I had already assured lady that I will accompany her to her gate where she would be taking her plane to London. I was also confident that she would be able to make it on her own. She knew hindi very well and had a great ability to communicate people. All attendants in plane were very nice  to her. We were on the last seat so, it took a while for us to get out of the plane, by the time we came out of plane, the bus travelling to transit lounge was already gone, so my friends were gone. I could not communicate in time that I was with her. It took a while for wheelchair to arrive. We  walked slowly in her speed towards the transit lounge. Then, came the wheelchair man and whisked her away to her gate before I could say bye to her. I kept on thinking about her and even thought about going to the gate she was travelling but, I was with friends and it was complicated to find each other again in a large airport.

So, 7 hours to kill, what to do. I had got a book to read, few works to do, but somehow I neither opened the book nor a laptop. And yes, in the beginning there was a frantic attempt to connect internet in Indira Gandhi International Airport . But not successful. Wickedly, Delhi airport had deliberately chosen to make international travelers dupe with the offer of " 45 minutes of free internet" but that required to have a Indian phone. Who would buy a phone just of the internet, not me. Yes, one could use one's credit card but………..So, we tried some more but let it go.

We were impressed with the development of Indira Gandhi International Airport. Last time when I had traveled via Delhi airport almost 10 years before, I had few bad memories of cranky airport personnel. In Nepal itself, we had a confrontation with an airport personnel who excluded air of " Mr. Know All, I am the best, you know nothing". My friend, who was harassed tried to put him in place.

So, in Delhi, contrary to fear, nothing unpleasant happened. Few of us in the team had negative experiences in Delhi airport, particularly to do with the identity of being Nepali, the "green passport" syndrome. You know the way, we Nepalese with the green passport are made to feel in each airport: different lines, more probing, groping and smirk of superiority directed at us. None of this happened this time. And I had few crushes ( this is natural right) at attendants and handsome men at airport counters. I love my partner but it doesn't mean, I cannot appreciate if I find someone handsome right.

Then, conforming to the growth of fast food joints, we ordered domninos pizzas inspired by advertisements seen in Indian Television. There was a lot of discussion and confusion on few issues among us but fortunately it was settled with everyone's goodwill and humor.

Then, we went here and there. Pretended to have loads of money and asked prices of beautiful dresses and priceless gems. I realized, it is not necessary to own anything for pleasure. One can have a look and just imagine…………..and see where it takes you. This habit so far is helping me to overcome my shopaholic habit. But still not cured yet, but who cares, I will buy what I want as long as I have enough money for it.

So, so, if you are still interested in this endless banter,  I will continue to go on. Those who were not interested, they are probably out of this blog anyway. So, we moved around some more and sitting in the lounge, we had interesting discussion on activism vs. academia. Three of us women participants were all lecturers with strong interest in gender issues. We all are doing research, trying to bring into serious gender issues into discussion. Each of us had in some ways, felt the "skeptic doubt" of activist about the futility of research and question on our lack of supposed "activism". We concluded that in this instance," activism" was being defined narrowly.  There is no singular way of doing activism. Activism is not always about "demonstrating on the street with slogans and placards". There are different ways of doing activism. And for academics like us who are interested in gender issues, research itself is an important method of activism: bringing hidden and silent issues into academic discourses, orienting new generation men and women for gender equality, continuously writing and speaking with evidence, analysis, linking the social problems with structural causes along with immediate underlying causes. It was truly a refreshing discussion. People around us in the lounge had bemused expression in their faces perhaps meaning "crazy loud women", but it didn't matter, we went on and on until the hunger striked us again.

This time, opting for new taste, we went to "curry kitchen". After experiencing burning sensation of chilli in the pit of our stomach, we decided to cool ourselves with cheapest but yummiest ( isn't it all about perspective?) ice-cream in Delhi Airport.. Then after sauntering  here and there, it was time for us to catch a srilankan airlines flight. The air hostesses dresses were beautiful with peacock prints. If I had a daughter, I would have bought something similar for her. Once one airhostes knew I was from Nepal, she said " I need to talk to you". She came later and started talking with me. She said she is getting married next year and planning to come to Nepal for honeymoon. I shared what I knew and well, did a good job of promoting tourism in Nepal J

The flight was great. Airhostesses were friendly and helpful, funny bantering among themselves were interesting to observe. Srilankan airlines did have good movie, tried to flick over couple of movies but was too tired to watch. Introduction to Srilankan food in the plane itself helped us be prepared to adjust our level of tolerance to chillies.

After arrival, clearing through customs was easy, no hassle, smooth service. I wanted to buy a simcard and found bit expensive in airport. So, we stopped in the arrival section to look for the driver who will be holding our name in paper. We searched everywhere but driver was no where to be seen. What happened? Airport pick up was already arranged. Now, now, don't worry, hold your breath. We found him. Do you know what happened, our named were transformed into srilankan names: srilankization of Nepali names were funny

Neeti became Aneeti

And Samidha became Samodha

And Mr. Pradip Kumar, was not pradip anymore, He was P.Kumar

So, finally we figured out, got into the van and moved towards hotel. Arrived hotel nearly around 11 pm at night. We were greeted with fresh juice and we filled our registration. Then, we started to talk with hotel personnel about our plan for tour tomorrow. There were multiple options, multiple expenses. I had a bit of "hot water" fiasco that happens to me everytime wherever I stay in any hotel. I am not elaborating here, ask me if you want, will tell more.

So, off we drifted to sleep, exhausted but excited about new possibilities, new experiences. 

New and Green Sajha Bus

O

Published in Kathmandu post, available in this link http://www.ekantipur.com/the-kathmandu-post/2013/04/23/related_articles/new-and-green/247931.html

Ever since the news about resuming service of Sajha Yatayat, Haribansha dai's high octave voice singing “ hami pani huinkiun buini sajha busaima” has been replaying in our hearts over and over again. At a time when public transportation is run by profit minded business cartels,  this has been the most positive event of new year 2070. 

A surge of excitement passes every time I see new green Sajha bus. But unfortunately, every time I was already inside in heavily packed nilo micro where the size of seat can be increased at the whim of conductor and guruji.  So, normal people without zero size figure of a model feel embarrassed every time conductor boy shoves his hand bullying us to move that extra inch aside to fit in another normal size person. Students feel vilified with questioning looks of conductor 
who doubts whether every other ID card is fake. Many times, we have seen people with disability been turned away from the vehicle by the driver who neither understand nor respects people's right to mobility. Passengers with small children suffer as much. As soon as a parent enters the vehicle and scrambles along with his/her child towards empty seat, the conductor asks a very tough question, “ is the child on the seat”.  Fellow passengers are equally disrespectful. They expect every other child in seat to cuddle in lap of their parents. Pregnant and women with small children are seen standing up aside a man who will be residing in a “mahila seat” without any hint of embarrassment. The interaction between the driver and passengers and passenger's behavior towards each other gives us a miniature glimpse of all things that is wrong with Nepal at the moment. Each person selfishly thinks about oneself alone, disregarding how other people are being effected.  

I am amused whenever my relatives ask “ why aren't you riding scooter”, or better still, “ you can afford second hand car, if you want”. If only they knew. I belong to somewhat rare but common class in Kathmandu, too afraid to ride motorbike, too poor to buy a car.  But definitely, there is a strong reason for motorcycle companies going viral with their advertisement showing men on bikes with hot girlfriends behind. They also have urged women to  get behind the wheels questioning “why boys should have all the fun?”.  Hence, last decade or so, Kathmandu has seen a big surge of private vehicles, particularly motorcycles. The strong reason is non other than sluggish, unreliable and insecure public transportation system.  But it is not enough to blame it alone.  Unregulated public transportation system run by business houses anywhere has disastrous results unless there is a strong coordinated effort from the Government. 

Resuming Sajha service has struck a new wave of nostalgia among Kathmanduits. Sajha was the first vehicle that many of us rode in childhood. It seemed as if it was yesterday that I got off from Sajha bus in Newroad and dragged my father towards Bishalbazzar to ride Nepal's only electronic ladder.   Sajha used to offer equally reliable long distance services. My father was comfortable enough to send his two daughters all by themselves to Gorkha because we were riding Sajha bus. Sajha was symbol of trust, reliability and safety.  With the advent of restoration of democracy in 2046 B.S, Sajha began to deteriorate due to high political interference and corruption. Though, high enthusiasm on Sajha at present is partly nostalgia but it is more about the urgent need of people friendly public transportation system. 

Despite trying, it was only on sixth day of service, I was finally able to experience much awaited Sajha ride. After the end of meeting at Patan Dhoka in evening, my colleague Sangram Lama  declared“ aja jasari pani sajha bus chadne ho”. Me and other friend Ashalal Tamang joined in his anticipation and asked if anyone would care to join us. Other academics present watched us with bemused smile as if we were children.  Perhaps we sounded like one in anticipation. We headed straight towards the nearby Sajha Bus office and inquired about the available routes. Then, we moved towards Krishna galli bus stop and it felt as if we were waiting for long lost childhood friend after many years. A small crowd of Sajha enthusiast grew around us. We waited nearly 20 minutes but it didn't matter as we were engrossed in exchanging our Sajha memories. Each time, other public vehicles stopped in front of us, we stood nonchalantly as if to mean “your monopoly doesn't exist anymore”. It felt so good to enter the Sajha bus from automated door behind. It reminded me of safe reliable bus service of Melbourne. I fully agree with Kanakmani Dixit, President of Sajha Yatayat when he said, “ the civilization of the city is reflected not by the number of people in cars but in well managed people friendly public transportation system”. 

Resuming of Sajha has brought a glimmer of hope among people. It should be able to set a new standard and norms of public transportation. May be someday, we will see wheelchair users getting into the bus easily after the driver switches the button to release the special ramp for them. Perhaps there will be special seats for pregnant women and parents carrying small children. Even if not, people will have enough sense to leave the seats for people who are in need of them. May be one day, we will have a schedule of different routes by the bus stand and we can trust that the bus will arrive in time and take us where we need to go. Perhaps, one day, people will leave their Pazeros and Bajaj at home and take public ride to work because it is more secure, reliable and affordable. I know its a far fetched dream. But one is allowed to dream, doesn't one? 

Valentine day as freedom to love

This article appeared in Kathmandu post on 14th February 2013, and available in this link

http://www.ekantipur.com/the-kathmandu-post/2013/02/13/related_articles/freedom-to-love/245280.html

Past couple of days, I have been wandering around proliferating gift and flower shops in outskirts of Kathmandu. Sometimes, shopkeepers throw a questionable glance towards me. They are perhaps surprised to see me around, a bespectacled woman in her early thirties being interested in valentine gifts. But my interest lied not on the gifts but rather on the people who bought them. Few days back, I asked dai of my regular shopping spot, a simple question. "Who buys these valentine chocolates more, boys or girls"? "Both", he said and I was bit shocked. Other owner of gift shop claimed that more girls are buying his little cute red teddy bears, heart shaped pillows and greeting cards these last couple of days. Does it mean, urban girls of Kathmandu are being more "empowered" through expression of their love?

While exploring these questions, we need to situate valentine day in certain kind of love popularly known as "romantic love". Though the ideological sources of romantic love vary, I am interested on a particular brand of "romantic love" brewed by Bollywood movies that we Nepalese are so fond of. First of all "love" is believed to be something that is beyond our control. As this song sums it perfectly "pyar kiya nahi jata, ho jata hai", meaning "one does not love, but it happens". Second, it is boys/men who express love, and girls/women have power to say either yes or no.

Few days ago, I was talking with a group of college girls. I asked them the same question, "Who buys the gifts?"  They laughed at my obvious foolishness of not being up to date with current trends. "Both", they said. Apparently these days both boys and girls who are already a couple exchange gifts with each other. But when asked, who buys the gift to propose for the first time, they answered differently. "Of course, the boys", they said. "It is Nepali society, it is not considered good for girls to be "forward" in expressing love" was their opinion. The reason behind this hesitance and reluctance of women to express their love to man for the first time may be because their "expression of love" is associated with their character. An image of good girl in love is someone who passively waits while dropping indirect hints to the boy she likes so that he has enough courage to express his feelings for her. Thus, one can question whether valentine day can be easily regarded as a sign of modernization, as it is often claimed. Probing deeper in its intricacies and processes, I argue that valentine day is simply reinforcing preexisting gender inequality but in new ways.

As Kathmandu is getting warmer with fever of valentine day, I remember Shiva Hasmi and Bindu Thakur. Though the reasons of their deaths are disputable, they both are dead because of so called "love". Earlier, it was speculated that Shiva Hasmi was burned to death by her alleged boyfriend when she refused to elope with him. Now, it is proven that her family members are guilty.  Bindu Thakur became victim of similar form of honor killing. She is said to be killed by her father while she was going to get her tuition to help her studies. Her father is said to be against of her alleged love affair with a boy her family did not accept.  The case depicts an irony of Nepali society where parents are increasingly making sure that their daughters are educated and independent in other words, empowered. But when daughters choose their own life partner, it is taken as a question to family's honor. These two incidences question the rhetoric that we have been led to believe in. We unconsciously teach, write and speak saying that increasing education and "awareness" will increase women's empowerment. But till today, many Nepali women do not have power to decide one of the most important aspects of their life: choosing their life partners.

It is impossible to reject valentine day all together in current era of globalization. But the least we can do is to be conscious about the way we adopt it. We should not limit Valentine day simply as a festival of red roses and chocolates. Why don't we redefine it as a celebration of "freedom to love" and "freedom to express love"? Particularly, expression of love has been more or less been seen as a responsibility or an entitlement of men. In many of the real life and reel life love stories that we see, the same steps continue over and over again. Boy meets the girl, girl may also like the boy, girl drops hints here or there through indirect messages and gestures, and then she just waits, until the boy expresses the love. And the girl says either yes or no. Can we change this sequence of love stories of our society?

Though one may argue what difference does it make who proposes? I think it is important. The outcome itself (whether we are accepted or not) is not that significant later on. By "expressing love" we are taking charge of one's life, doing things rather than just waiting for them to happen. In many love stories that I have heard in context of my research, women had misgivings that they did not express what they feel, conforming to the ideal image of women in love. Many women live with phrases constantly humming on their hearts, "what if", "if only". It is perhaps time to change that and rewrite our future love stories differently than it has been written for ages.

Coinciding with Valentine day today, a movement Occupy Baluwatar is commemorating its 50^th day in solidarity with One Billion Rising. On this day, one billion women and men living in different parts of the world are coming together to rise against violence against women. So, all of us believers of love, let's come out and advocate for "freedom to love" and "freedom to express love". 

Sociology of Academics in Nepal

Edited version of this article is published on Kathmandu Post on 19th December 2012, and available in following link http://epaper.ekantipur.com/ktpost/showtext.aspx?boxid=2341457&parentid=20878&issuedate=19122012

Sociology of Academics in Nepal

Being relatively a new fish on the pond of academia, I am yet to understand deeply the reason behind the sorry state of our oldest and largest academic institution. Being a part of Tribhuvan University fills me both with sense of pride and feeling of helplessness. While acquiring a new identity of lecturer, I am gradually realizing that academics are perhaps the most blamed professionals in Nepal. They are blamed by students for not teaching well, not being updated enough in recent debates.  Proponents of Academic NGOs repeatedly question their quality of academic contributions.  Media blames them for overt politicization of academic institutions. The very politicians, who covet intellectuals to bring under their fold, lament on the scarcity of "true intellectuals". Indeed, academics in Nepal are more or less accountable for these allegations against them.  In the midst of this blame game, we often commit mistake of lumping all academics in a single category. If we observe, we may find that Nepal probably has the most diverse species of academics produced by the sorry state of academic institutions. The relationship between the origin of diversity of academics and sorry state of academic institution is like a chicken or egg question. The question remains, which comes first.  

Particularly, my observations are based on Tribhuvan University which seems like an overcrowded train gradually halting in its speed and nearly being dismantled out of its academic track. These categorizations are based on observations and numerous conversations that I have had with fellow academics and other professionals over the years. While I go on with categorizations, I am not claiming that these identities are absolute and fixed. In some cases, these categories may be seen as phases that an academic may pass through or at times, an academic may just be stuck in a limbo in between identities.

The first noticeable species are celebrity academics. The ones who had substantially contributed to academic knowledge in past but in present trying to live off the fruits of yesteryears. They are much coveted by INGOs who continue to use their consultancy services. They write bland research reports but produce nothing that contributes to academic knowledge.  Sometimes they appear in op-ed pages in newspaper to reinforce the belief that their old theoretical perspectives are still relevant.  Another noticeable group is activist academics who struggle with the challenge to manage their dual identities. Few of them are somehow able to perform this tightrope act and are creating new landmarks for academics in Nepal. But many of these activist academics are gradually turning into more activists than academics. And they have begun to produce similar rheoritic like political leaders and NGO workers.

The other kinds are real academics who are actively engaged in teaching and research. They have fascinating conversations with their students, often beyond classrooms. They are often the victim of the politicized system which requires academics to do chakari to netas and take refuge under certain political umbrella. These academics resist and continue to prod on the exhilarating journey of quest for knowledge. And in the front of their very eyes, their lesser counterparts with less vision and academic rigor go ahead being Department Heads, Deans and VCs. These visionary people, who have convictions and ideas for necessary initiatives required to transform the institution, remain relegated to marginality. But they do not give up, they continue to contribute, engage in discourses. They appear in radio, television and newspapers sometimes. They continue to create a ripple with their perspectives and ideas.

The next species right among us but not so obvious are cloak academics. They use identity of academics as a cloak because they are not able to embrace the true meaning of their profession, either by choice or lack of ability.  Thus, they substitute their lack of academic rigor by being engaged in other activities. The major field of their involvement is definitely politics. Obviously academics do have political beliefs on personal level. They do need to be involved in occupation based organizations to safeguard their rights.  But the question remains unanswered why academics need so many different professors' association? Apart from politicos, other cloak academics are engaged in different activities ranging from investing in private colleges to working as real estate brokers. Cloak academics however continue to teach as they need to draw salary from their regular jagir. They recycle their knowledge based on their old notes, which seems to be faded with use. They don't find it important to update themselves in recent changes in academic discourses. They talk and they want students to listen attentively. Some even, pretending to help the students, bring written notes into the classroom and recite them while students write every word.  One wonders why don't they simply handover these notes to students who can easily photocopy them at once and read at home. But then, one can fathom that for them, the classes without notes will be akin to travelling in a new city without a map.

Others are new generation academics, a new species that have recently started to inhabit classrooms of our oldest academic institution. Curious glances and whispers track their movements and scrutinize their attire. Bursting with ideas and believers of change, these new generation academics struggle with the system that refuses to accommodate the energy and vigor they have. They feel uncomfortable in highly politicized academic arena. They feel at loss of words in office meeting rooms among the old generation academics, where discussion on academic discourses is nonexistent. Always carrying backpacks with their laptop, they seek space somewhere to write, to research.  But an age old entry requirement of university system continues to banish them. These new generation academics are often relegated o the status of amsik lecturers who try to contribute more than so called thai full time teachers. Faced with the challenge of livelihood, they are unsure about the direction of their future. They continue to ask themselves and people around them how long are they to continue in hope of being established in a profession that they are qualified and so interested in. They often draw their livelihood from other engagements. But they are most happy when they are in university: teaching, researching and writing.

The other category, helmet teacher is already discussed much in public discourses. Helmet teachers have been much blamed and ridiculed. However, I see nothing to fault them. Their numbers are likely to grow even more if we see the continuity of mushrooming private college affiliates of same university minus the lack of increase in academic spirit promised by the advertisements in big billboards and full front page in newspapers.

Looking at these categories, many species of academics have been able to work their way around own personal benefit, making the most of the sorry state of academic institutions in Nepal. These academics are equally to blame along with the meddling politicians for the deterioration of Tribhuvan University. But there is still hope. We still have academics around us who have potential to transform the institutions, if we recognize them and entrust them with responsibilities and opportunities. So, next time if we hear anybody about to start fresh batch of accusations against academics of Nepal, we could perhaps interrupt and ask. Which species of academic are you talking about, could you please be specific?

The Search

I am tired
With this facade of being nice, always
But in this crooked world
One can only keep the mask on 
And pretend that all is well. 
  
So, what others see me
 Is actually not me
This nice, gentle woman
Who  smiles
And talks with little frown on her face. 

 You are the  one, 
Who knows
How I am deep within
With you, I can sometimes lash out 
All those frustrations
I have Bottled up inside my heart. 
Sometimes, I just try to hide in the shell 
And pretend as if all is well 
But you with your eyes 
Seek me out and see through me
  
With you I cannot pretend. 
I can sometimes act like a bitch 
And have no qualms about it
Sometimes I have these phases
Its hormones mostly
But sometimes its me
A minute angry
A minute happy
A minute the tears come
A minute laughing hysterically. 
And how can I show this self to the world. 
They would think I am mad, perhaps I am. 


With you,
I can be little mad
A little sad
A little angry
A little funny
A little cranky
A little swanky
A little gloomy
Coz that's what I am like
Always not so smart
A little loose in the head
 With all the crazy thoughts
 Going back and forth.
 Sometimes, I live in a cloud
 And forget to switch off the gas
And burn the curry down. 
  
I know its not easy
Being with me.
Its not easy
Actually living with me
Day in and Day out. 
  
I do not know where this poem is going
I should end this soon….
This little frolicking of my mind
Which is  content
That life long search is in end. 
It took me so long to realize
A treasure was right in front of me

But I was searching everywhere
 when I started
I stumbled a lot
Knocked some wrong doors
And few trespassers wanted to enter 
Through window. 

 But it seems,"the end"
Is actually not an end.
 With each new phase
I know you more
And still feel
There is more to know
You are like a Russian doll
With each find, there is something more inside
I keep on uncovering and finding. 

So, the search did not end.
It only changed its direction

Parent's quest for quality education

This article appeared in kathmandu post available in following link http://m.ekantipur.com/2012/04/24/oped/our-school-bazaars/352869.html

Parent's quest for ramro school

Dadhiram Khanal

Neeti Aryal Khanal

apednepal@gmail.com

Before, the misconception sets in, we have few disclaimers. First, we are not experts in education. Second, we are neither against private nor public education system. We do not present solutions, just share the dilemmas of parents which we feel hasn't been appropriately addressed by the government and concerned educational institutions. 

Despite the difference, all middle class parents have one thing in common: we have limited means but unlimited dreams. And a part of that dream is future of our children in which education plays an important role. We earn our livelihood through lawful means. We may not be able to fulfill all wishes and whims of our children. We compromise on our living style but we do not want to leave any stone unturned in pursuit of quality education for our children. 

Let's start from the very simple question? Which school do we want to put our child in? Let's be frank, it's true that public school do not count even as an option.  Even low income working parents cut their expenses in basic needs to put their children in "boarding" school. Why is this, we will this question for experts to sort out. 

Search for ramro school usually starts when the child is born but becomes more profound when the child turns around six and is about to start grade one. Usually parents start planning almost a year ahead consulting other parents who have been lucky enough to find the "right" school. Almost 2, 3 months prior admission, we start visiting several ramro schools and collecting brochure which often comes with a heavy price of the admission form. In the month of chaitra, we hop in from one school to another for entrance exams.  We are impressed and scared at the same time by some school's academic rigor, seeing the piece of paper that gives us details about the questions to be covered in entrance exams. And in the playground we sit and chat with other waiting parents and heave a sigh of relief that we are not the only one going through this rite de passage.  

If we look closely, the experience is similar to that of shopping for fashionable T-Shirt. Like fashion houses, there are education houses with a particular brand name:  big and small. Each school comes with bright color, attractive messages, slogans and one liner which they call "motto". On top of that, like a fashion brand, schools are advertised in media. Past few days, we keenly observed few advertisement of the school in television. One school boasted of "swimming pool", another bragged of "computer based learning". The most interesting of all, was an advertisement showing a boy not being able to solve a color puzzle. Then the girl joined in and solved it in an instant, then came the voice over, stating the name of school she studied in. And the camera lingered a bit on the face of proud mother who made the "right" choice. The question is, does a good school even need to advertise? Indeed, education has become a commodity. It seems as if parents are buyers; schools are retailers selling dreams of "quality education". In this whole process of buying and selling, our children are transformed into a product themselves, to be molded according to dreams of parents and guarantees offered by school. But what about children themselves?

What is the yardstick to measure ramro school? Buildings, desks, benches, playground, toys, swimming pool? The missing puzzle is the teachers. What matters most is how child is taught, the environment in the classroom, is there a teacher who is genuinely interested in teaching? Is that teacher well trained, is that teacher well paid? These questions are seldom asked and rarely answered. 

It seems as if we believe that the more expensive the school is the more quality education it offers. But is it really so? Few days back, one of our relatives announced that he is enrolling his child into a very "good" school which is better than one of the big brand name school in Kathmandu. We wanted to know how he came to that conclusion. "Fees", he said, "they charge higher fees than that good school". When we heard the amount of fees charged by some of the very ramro schools, our jaws dropped. We even felt little guilty over being such a bad parent for not being able to afford "quality" education. 

Majority of parents in Kathmandu send their children to school far from their home in quest of quality education. This requires children to eat dal bhat around 7.30 am in morning and reach bus stop at 8. In evening, they come back with homework which leaves them little time to play and have fun. The most challenging transition is for the children who start their grade one in new schools. From a close knit small pre-schools, they move into larger schools. For these new grade oners, their school hours become longer and their bags heavier.  

If only there was one single education system which ensured similar level of quality in all schools. With this, we could send our children to nearest school forgoing an hour long bus journey back and forth in traffic mad, busy street of Kathmandu. If only, education for our children was more about learning and discovering than being the bearer of a brand name of education houses. But these are still farfetched dreams. 

Thus, we must embrace the reality. Our son is starting new school from today. Waking early ourselves, we nudge the sleepy little boy and steer him to bathroom. While eating daal bhat, he can't stop talking about his new uniform and glossy new books. He can't wait to play in large playground and colorful slide at his new school.  The doubts linger while we hold his little hand ushering him to his new big school bus. Will he be able to make friends, will his teachers care for him, will he survive? But then, looking at all those bright young faces in a bus along with him, a relief comes over. If they made it, he will too. 

As parents of two children, the writers are interested in different issues relating to parenting in   Nepal. 

Teej: negotiating between modernity and tradition

Edited version of this article appeared in Kathmandu post, available in following link 

http://www.ekantipur.com/the-kathmandu-post/2012/09/17/oped/bedecked-with-bangles/239756.html

Teej: negotiating between modernity and tradition

Sparkling bangles and bindis, women singing and dancing in odd places and times of the day in neighborhood, images of women in red sari taking over facebook timeline: festive season of Teej is here once more. Ask anyone about Teej, they are sure to have very passionate opinions about it: men or women, follower or non follower. Some are vehemently against it, some are ardently supporting it.  And in between that, some women like me do not know anymore whether to love or hate Teej. Coming into age in 1990s at the height of feminist movement in Nepal, many so called modern Nepali women share an uncomfortable relationship with Teej. When seen from religious discourses that require women to worship lord Shiva for long life of husband, Teej seems worst remnant of patriarchal society. But can Teej be easily dismissed as patriarchal ideology alone? Answers are not that easy.  

Practice of Teej came into being when male supremacy was unquestioned. It was not surprising that religious discourses reflected the reality of that time. For women of previous generations including many rural women at present, Teej marks an end of agricultural season, when overworked daughter-in-laws could finally go to their maita, eat, sing and dance to their heart's content. While conforming to patriarchal ideology, such as" fasting for husband's long life" and 'drinking water from husband's feet", women could practice their agency within that constrained traditional space. Thus, Teej on one hand required women to conform to male domination but on the other hand also allowed to question the very same. Though Teej songs have been repeatedly dismissed as "lamentations of women against their husband and mother-in-law", close examination of these songs can help us conclude how political it was. Teej allowed women an opportunity to question the power imbalances of society based on gender. It may be hard to regard it as so at first.  But we all know that Teej is not something one celebrates in isolation.  Women celebrate amongst one's family, kins and friends. Thus, when masses of women question the power inequalities and injustices at a particular time, Teej does not remain a cultural/religious festival alone, it transforms into a political force that is capable of transforming society. 

Teej is also a thread that helps women to weave their memories into their life story. Recollecting my own memories of Teej, I never once kept fast before marriage. My two best friends (one Bahun and other Newar) started to fast in Teej since their early teenage years. They were teased mercilessly for their perseverance and patience to continue fasting year after year. It is still debatable what prompted them: religious faith or desire for good life partner, perhaps both. But probing deeper, one can argue that many new generation women who are educated and have strong career goals, Teej has became a means to negotiate a balance between modernity and tradition. Teej, is perhaps new generation Nepali women's way of proving that though they are embracing modern lifestyles and values, they are still "good daughters" and "good wives" like their mother, albeit different. As, fasting in Teej requires certain qualities that are synonymous with image of good daughter and wife in Nepal: spirituality, patience, devotion and endurance.  While my friends kept gruesome fasting, I took part in all fun aspect of Teej, dancing, eating, dressing, make up, minus most crucial aspect: fasting. Sometimes, my involvement in festivities was questioned, which made me even more adamant in my ways. This deviance perhaps stemmed as a resistance to cultural discourses that described the narrowed image of ideal women and their pre-destined life course: marriage and motherhood.  

But I could not resist Teej any longer. I started fasting soon after marriage with the enthusiasm that comes with being a newly married woman. With scrutinizing gaze of society that is constantly watching for any slips or falls that newly married woman makes: I could not help but give in. As, for newly married women, fasting in Teej becomes a means to express their marital happiness, which may not always exist. Over the years, I have come to embrace Teej as an important part of my life. It has become a strong medium for me to express love to my husband and to strengthen the bond between my mother and friends. I always cherish receiving churapote from my relatives and equally relish giving back something similar. Though this is an expensive practice and may even seen as meaningless charade on surface level, this circular exchange of gifts helps to maintain close tie amongst women relatives and friends.  

Obviously, modern Nepali women do not always agree with all practices and ideology surrounding Teej. But they celebrate it every year with continued resistance and acceptance. Thus, the practices, rituals and ideologies surrounding Teej are gradually changing. At present, fasting may no longer mean being complete "nirahar" and "nirjal". Each family these days have their own idea about the nature of fast: is it total fasting without food and water whole day, is it drinking water only, is it having a bowl of fruits and milk soon after the visit to temple?  Thus, Teej should not be as much of a charade for women, like it seems to be. Similarly, what comprises of durr is also changing. Though self proclaimed protectors of pure Nepali culture argue that women should stick to traditional durr: rice cooked in ghee, rice pudding, sweets and yoghurt.  But doesn't the choice of food change with time? Durr in its true essence simply meant something delicious that may not always be part of regular meal. Another meaning was to have something sustaining that enabled women to keep fasting. So, it is not surprising that in some of the durr programme and "Teej party" one will find momos, pizzas, pastries and even wine. Most significant of all, practice of "drinking water from husband's feet" is changing too. Observing my own mother's life course, she remembers that it used to be an important ritual that was performed everyday soon after her marriage. After several years, it was limited to major festivities. Then, it was once in a year in occurrence, in Teej. Nowadays, I find it amusing to see whole spectacle of this ritual amongst my parents. While mother follows father pretending to want to "drink water from feet", my father pretends to move afar saying repeatedly "no need".  The ritual still continues in form of this mock performance that continues every year much to the amusement of grandchildren. Though, few remaining generation of chauvinist men still may have sadistic pleasure of having their wives drink water from their feet, I believe that new generation men find it more comforting to be treated as normal mortal men rather than god like figures whose feet need to be worshiped to prove that they are superior. 

So, do not be surprised this Teej if you see group of modern women: some with empty stomach, some with half filled stomach, some with bright red sari, some with kurta tops, some married and some unmarried, some with long hair and some with short hair raising a commotion in the middle of the street singing and dancing with abandon with one hand full of bangles and the other with watch and i-phone.  

Happy New Year 2069

Happy New year 2069

This day

Old year has gone,

New has begun

In between that

Perhaps, we have grown

little older

Little saner

This year

Lets review

What we were

What we are

And what we will be

Yes, the world definitely needs

some changes

But before that

Lets search that inner voice within us

To discover our true selves.

As they say,

If you want to change the world

Start with yourself.

Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us. - Har Barland