Dinesh Chandra Panthy ( दीप ): A letter to Indian People & Intellectuals

Dinesh Chandra Panthy ( दीप ): A letter to Indian People & Intellectuals

Kalpana, As I Imagine Her (longer version)

Me and My Kalpana.

Kalpana and I go way back. Way-way back to when we were not even teens. She now is an organic agriculture entrepreneur, beloved daughter in law, a lovely wife and a mother of two, who, believe it or not are 5th and 3rd graders, and here I am still working on how to eat without spilling food on my shirt. My sense of nonsense humor.

She has lived with her husband and family at Nepal Village in Taudaha, for twelve years, which is on the way to Dakchinkali temple. It was her twelfth marriage anniversary, almost a week before the brutal earthquake hit throughout Kathmandu Valley. The house that welcomed her as a 21 year old bride, the house that were filled with cries and laughter of both her babies when they were born, the house that served the entire Nepal family a place to rejoice for and the house that was a dream come true for her grandparents in law when they built it, was instantly turned into rubble, right in front of her eyes. I cannot fathom how her heart must have ripped apart as she tried to stand that ferocious shaking and also lose the home that had sheltered her family all their life. I couldn’t help myself cry when she told me about her loss on phone. But she did not. It was a week past earthquake, and her tears might have dried up already or may be she is still a strong woman as she was as a high school girl. I never remember her as a timid type. She was very tomboyish. She could beat up any taller guys in our class. Not that she has, but I know if she did, she could and she would.

We were inseparable during school days. However, we unknowingly drifted apart after passing SLC. She went her way to study Arts at Padma Kanya Campus in Dillibazar and I carried on to Tri-Chandra College to pursue my Science classes. Mobile phones or facebook didn’t exist back then, if they did, we could at least be a facebook-friend and text-gossip all day and night long, about our days, classmates and handsome teachers. I did attend her wedding though. Photographed the entire ceremony, spent hours doing her bridal make up, making henna design on her hands and making hair buns. Yet, she did not kill me for making her live a week with an atrocious henna designs. Thank god. It all appears like a dream of past life to me. We seldom get update about one another, what is going on with our lives is only communicated with ones respective friends and family circle. She doesn’t know anything about me nor I know much about her life post SLC because we only catch up once in a while. And that once in a while is sometimes once in two years, that is how much we are apart physically but I would say that teenage-girls-heart-strings are still fastened deep into both of our hearts.

I wanted to see her after she told me what she went through on that day. Her grandmother was in fact buried under rubble for more than an hour after that house collapsed on her while she was taking nap on first floor. Her husband with help of neighbors rescued the grandmother. She still has bruises all over the body and whose interview I heard at some FM station a day earlier of my visit. I was perplexed to learn that the interviewed elderly who was dug out of rubble was indeed Kalpana’s grandmother. Luckily her boy was not inside house, who, otherwise is always playing computer games. She and 6 other family members have now taken refuge under a long plastic nursery where she once farmed mushroom and tomatoes seasonally. Everyday they clean debris to scout out belongings. Pulling out clothes, washing them , drying them and folding them is now her day-to-day chores. They have managed to retrieve beddings, some clothes, utensils but all the electronic home appliances are gone. She tells, yo bhukampa le malai kangal banai diyo. (This earthquake looted me) as she posts temporary shelter photos over facebook.

I want to break a story continuation with a hilarious story she told me while I was there. There is a Newar village right across her field, that support Maoist Party of Nepal. Baburam Bhattarai and Prachanda visited that Newar village within a week of disaster with food, shelter and money relief. They were there for an hour while Nepal villagers were looking forward to greet them to in anticipation of aid. The next thing they see is both the political figure rode off their big cars completely overlooking all other neighboring village.

Anyhoo…

Kalpana is a trained ardent agriculturist and was chosen amongst one of the two trainees from Kathmandu to go to Janakpur for a month long farming class. She does organic farming and has hosted three lots of guests to farm with her through Worldwide Opportunity on Organic Farm Nepal (WWOOF). I followed her work on facebook. She regularly posted her farm work, her foreign friends assisting her at farm site, tomato grooves, rice planting, mushroom farming etc. I am proud friend, one thing I wish to see prosper in Nepal is agriculture. I proudly watch all agriculture entrepreneur programs on Nepal Television whenever I am home. I never visited her despite receiving several invitations. It was 6 or 7 years since I last saw her. And when I did, her world had tumbled upon her. She even had to let her cow go in fear that already dilapidated shed would collapse on that poor animal. That cow provided 7 liters milk to family everyday.

Not that she needs my help, but I want to tell her farming stories to people, to help her get back into feet. I want to encourage her to restart farming. I want her to see her rebuild her home so that can she can return the tomato nursery to its original state. 

Time heals all wounds, and I want hers to heal at earliest. I hope that time comes shortly when she recalls the earthquake and after success as a tale that she tells fondly to others. And like her name, “Kalpana”, may all her sufferings be limited to her kalpana/imagination and nothing get carried forward in her days to come.

Fake Faces Toll Nepali Earthquake hits.........

"Death toll in Nepal Earthquake hits 4000, 5000, 6000.... 9,000 amid hunt for survivors" made headlines in top National and International media for 50 weeks. But how many times have we read "Fake Faces Toll Nepal Earthquake hits x' numbers"? Which organization or individual would ferociously compete to top the chart? Lets sit and contemplate about the all the relief works posted on Facebook. All the gofundme.com they have created to collect fund. Which organization are still active and who have cleverly managed to perish? But the most interesting one would be to see whose until-now-fine-faces turned into debris with massive earthquake that shook all of us. Don’t worry I have discovered two of them already. One is unmasked and other is on its way to reveal oneself. Let’s give him sometime. Sometime until he receives the fund he is promised for the project he proposed. Will he walk his talk or just drive a car? I am sure when and if he reads my blog he in no second will know that the stone that was released from my slingshot has hit him. Bull’s-eye. 

This blog is to resonate my facebook status this morning
~ “People who we are working with are nice on our faces and then next thing we discover is they have backstabbed us. OMG!! That too within a week.
प्रिती थापा, You and I have such sweet faces (wink) and we are short too compared to everyone we meet yet they are INTIMIDATED.
WHY WE GOD WHY WE????” 

Photo from, https://resonner.wordpress.com/2014/08/28/the-dying-flame/

Me and My Kalpana.

Kalpana and I go way back. Way-way back to when we were not even teens. She now is an organic agriculture entrepreneur, beloved daughter in law, a lovely wife and a mother of two, who, believe it or not are 5th and 3rd graders, and here I am still working on how to eat without spilling food on my shirt. My sense of nonsense humour.

She is lived with her husband and family at Nepal Village in Taudaha, for twelve years, which is on the way to Dakchinkali temple. It was her 12^th anniversary, almost a week before the brutal earthquake hit throughout the Valley. The house that welcomed her as a 21 year old bride, the house that were filled with cries and laughter of both her babies when they were born, the house that was a dream come true for her grandparents in law when they built it, was instantly turned into rubble, right in front of her eyes. I cannot fathom how her heart must have ripped apart as she tried to stand that ferocious shaking and also lose the home that had sheltered her family all life. I cried when she told me about it on phone. But she did not. Her tears might have dried up already or may be she is still a strong woman as she was as high school girl. I never remember her as a timid type. She was very tomboyish. She could beat up any taller guys in our class. Not that she has, but I know if she did, she could and she would.

 

House then and now

We were inseparable during school days. However, we unknowingly drifted apart after passing SLC. She went her way to study Arts and I carried on with my Science classes. Mobile phones or facebook didn’t exist back then, if they did, we could at least be a facebook friend and text-gossip all day/night long. I did attend her wedding though. Photographed the ceremony, spent hours doing her make up, putting henna and making hair buns. It all appears like a dream of past life to me. She doesn’t know anything about me nor I know much about her life post SLC because we only catch up once in a while. That once in a while is sometimes once in two years.

I wanted to see her after she told me what she went through on that day. Her grandmother was in fact buried under rubble for more than an hour after that house collapsed on her while she was taking nap on first floor. Her husband with help of neighbors rescued the grandmother. She still has bruises all over the body and whose interview I heard at some FM station a day earlier of my visit. I was perplexed to learn that the interviewed elderly who was dug out of rubble was indeed Kalpana’s grandmother. Luckily her boy was not inside house, who, otherwise is always playing computer games. She and 6 other family members have now taken refuge under a long plastic nursery where she once farmed mushroom and tomatoes seasonally. Everyday they clean debris to scout out belongings. They have managed to retrieve beddings, some clothes, utensils but all the electronic home appliances are gone. She tells, yo bhukampa le malai kangal banai diyo. (This earthquake looted me) as she posts her photos of temporary shelter.

Pulling grandmother out of rubble.

Kalpana is a trained ardent agriculturist. She does organic farming and has hosted three lots of guests to farm with her through Worldwide Opportunity on Organic Farm Nepal (WWOOF). I followed her work on facebook. She regularly posted her farm work, her foreign friends assisting her at farm site, tomato grooves, rice planting, mushroom farming etc. I never visited her despite receiving several invitations. It was 6 or 7 years since I last saw her. And when I did, her world had tumbled upon her. She even had to let her cow go in fear that already dilapidated shed would collapse on that poor animal. That cow provided 7 liters milk to family everyday.

Farmsite

Not that she needs my help, but I want to tell her farming stories to people, to help her get back into feet. I want to encourage her to restart farming. I want her to see her rebuild her home so that can she can return the tomato nursery to its original state. 

Once a tomato nursery now serves as a shelter of Nepal family.

Time heals all wounds, and I want hers to heal at earliest. I hope that time comes shortly when she recalls the earthquake and after success as a tale that she tells fondly to others. And like her name, “Kalpana”, may all her sufferings be limited to her kalpana/imagination and nothing get carried forward in her days to come.

Our Very Own Hanuman Dhoka Durbar

 It was the time and Uma visited Nepal in Fall 2014. We met in person for the first time after we have chatted and facebooked for 2 years and (point to be noted) she made me wait for at least 45 minutes in front of Fire and Ice restaurant on that day. On top of that she didn’t even care to offer me the famous Fire and Ice Pizza. I am going to tease her more when I meet her online next time. We ran around here and there to meet my friend without any success. We decided to take rickshaw to Kathmandu Durbar Square. It was a tough ride while people poured in in enormous number everywhere to shop for Dashain Festival. One festival you have to buy new dress no matter how many piles of dress you have at home. We sat on paati, a Nepali shelter, to exchange gifts. She brought me nail polishs, lipsticks, t-shirt and chocolates. I gave her silver earrings that she is ever fond of. Later she complained that she lost one of them. How Sad. Did I mention that we met through a Nepali Food portal and a common friend who de-friended both of us later. We still laugh as we ponder why did she feel need of doing that. Anyhoo, back to the tour of that day.

It was almost quarter to 4 in the evening then out of nowhere she decided to go see museum inside Hanuman Dhoka Palace. Although I have lived in Kathmandu for all my life, I never took chance to visit the museum. I said why not, sure I am a big fan of Monarchs and Royals. King Prithivi Narayan Shah is supreme, but do not ask me his birth date or when he annexed different mini kingdoms to finally unify it.

What a tour it was, re-visiting history. All the history classes in school kept haunting back to me in grandeur. We mocked miss-spellings and miss-translation every time we encountered one. But it’s a Nepali way, we have difficult time in discerning the words that are pronounced similarly but has different meaning and spelling altogether. (I don’t the term for that, hence explaining).

I had wonderful time, so amazed to see rare photos, first Nepali Newspaper Gorkhapatra, Royal Wedding attire and accouterment, Royal Ritual attire, Royal Thrones, what various King’s office and bedroom look like, their swords and hunting tools, Royal belongings, Royal library, political previews, you name it and it was there. So vast visual treat of 1000 years of history in an hour tour through the maze of tunnels, stairs, doors that interconnected all the buildings with the view of Nasal chowk, Mul Chowk, Taleju temple, freak market right across the street, and also the 9 storey Basantapur tower.

Very happy us took merry photos at one of the chowks, because taking photos were prohibited inside building.

 

And then it was time when we had the brutal earthquake on Spring 2015 of seven point nine. I heard Dharahara and Hanuman Dhoka Palace collapsed. I didn’t believe there was an iota of truth on such destruction news until the newspaper arrived next morning. So heartbreaking to see the fall and people buried under its rubble. I went to see around the palace on the 12^th day, lots of the places inside the vicinity were forbidden. Volunteers were clearing up the rubbles. There were few American journalists who flocked in to do piece on earthquake interweaving the Living Goddess Kumari. I wonder what they would extract from few year old Kumari.

The main concern remains about retrieving the valuables inside the dilapidated palace. Everyone is giving their own ideas on how to protect those are trapped behind fissured walls. I had thoughts that we would get rid of aftershocks in a month, but no it has not stopped yet and it could continue for longer than I have imagined, and it has only worsened the worse.

Local and International disaster assessment specialists have come together to set plans on how to fetch all the endangered valuables from the fragile historical Malla Palace, some parts of which are balanced precariously. Among the valuables the main problem are massive thrones, which needs at least 10 people to carry them in and out. Above all when monsoon hits this rescue mission might just not materialize and forces lose all our history, which are not only important but also precious for Nepalese.

200 familes of Rasuwa District refugeed in Nuwakot.

Camps for 200 families from Hakku Village, Ward No# 8, Rasuwa at Saatbisey in Nuwakot.

200 families of Haku village, Ward# 8, of Rasuwa district were displaced due to earthquake. Their houses were obliterated and they are now resettled in plastic tents in Saatbisey of Nuwakot. These people of Tamang enthnicity have lived their entire life in upper hilly region, now bound to live under plastic tent at this peak Summer time of 40 degree celsius. I feel that Rasuwa an isolated district with population less than 50,000 with frequent Gosaikunda visitors every monsoon, and completely cut off from what it feels like to be living in humid zone like Nuwakot.
I could guess most of the Rasuwa youth are migrant labours because the families there mostly comprised of women, children and elders. Elders spoke their native language and some broken Nepali. However children spoke shyly spoke Nepali. 

Every children complained about diarrhoea and every elder complained about headache. I reckon it is due to excess heating of plastic tents they are living inside. Dehydration and clean drinking water is yet another problem. I asked one of the ladies how do you manage to buy/get meals everyday? She gawked at me for few seconds and turned her head away. It stood me speechless and stupid for that impromptu question. I was inquisitive because I didn't see any ration store nearby.  All I see are Hills and a faded veiw of Mt. Langtang. The same Mt. Langtang that was house hold name for these people until 4/25 or until they were dispatched here in Nuwakot.

Children were in abundance. Mostly below 12. Although they looked like 10 to me they said they were 12. They were playing around Unicef tent, a humongous one in front of those teepee types made out of plastic tarps. Unicef tent was set up as play station for those kids, but alas it was not equipped with toys or books and most certainly always locked. No staff nothing whatsoever.

Well we have this situation that we are still getting aftershocks after one month and one week of massive earthquake and its dastardly deeds. May be it was a right choice to shift these Tamang community to Nuwakot. And then we are worried about upcoming monsoon, very much devoured by each Nepalese otherwise. Thankfully there has not been any cholera, diarrhoea or respiratory epidemic, not just in this camp but anywhere.

People have no choice but to manage in these tents temporarily. My main concern remains, will they be able to go back to their homeland? What if Government people easily neglect these guys. With the news like Finance Minister Dr. Ram Sharan Mahat stealing the tin sheets donated by Nepal Investment Bank and Prachanda's daughter, Renu Dahal, stealing food/shelter that were specially meant for these survivors, can we foresee them being reinhabited to their Rasuwa? I don't want to designate the term victim to anyone who survived this massive earthquake. But these rural villages' survivors are surely falling prey to many of 601 hawks and apperentice hawks. There is no better term for them but be called victims. It's like tragedy from all around.

All I wish is Goverment confirm that their original place is livable, transport them back there and give the money they promised to build homes.

Thank God it was Tuesday

And there goes the second one of 7.1, when were well immuned to 4 to 5 magnitude of aftershocks.
Thank God it was Tuesday. The Ganapati fasting day for me and Priti. 12:45 it was, when we were basking in the sun, laughing with Spring breeze and enjoying our haluwa lunch at balcony. Karpo, dog at office, yelped. I was annoyed. I yelled back at Karpo.

Again it was Priti who realized the quake before me. She stopped chewing, with mouthful of haluwa shouted, bhuichalo. My immediate reaction, NOPE.

She ran inside, as we had to rush one storey down. The haluwa bowl landed on the hallway chest. I did the same following her un-worded instruction. I recall only two sounds filling in the space then; rattlling of window glasses and Priti screaming, Nikki Dijju aaisyo (Come Nikki). I halted for a while in front of office door, thinking I should take shelter under door. Then I ran behind Priti who was waiting for me on stairway. My next halt was mid-stairway. What was I thinking? Priti grabbed my hand, with all her strength, ushered me outside. My boss, his son and rest of the housekeepers were screaming our names one after the other until we made it out. Earth was still rocking underneath us. Everybody's voices were shaking. Trees were swaying to whichever direction they pleased.

Both of our mobile phones were left upstairs. I borrowed somebody else's phone and dialed family numbers insanely to reach them. I later figured out they did the same. There followed several aftershocks. Finally I could connect to my dad and brother and found out they were unharmed. I mustered sufficient courage to back into the office building and bring my stuff out so that I could go home, becuase Priti insisted that we head out to home ASAP. But somehow my boss managed to convince her that we wait for at least an hour and take office vehicle to home. That is what we did.

Every Nepalese are more terrified after the second one, than the first hit, because we were convinced that cataclysmic of such magnitude would not re-occur but however had presaged and were prepared for month long aftershocks.

The Good, The Bad and The Weird

I looked at Priti, she was removing her nail paint rubbing the cotton on her toe nail. Priti glanced a shocked look at me. Screamed “vuichalo aayo” (Earthquake). We both jumped off the bed and ran to living room. My uncle and dad were about to run outside, but failed. Severe tremor rocked us. I yelped at everyone not to run out. Uncle grabbed the main door, dad grabbed him, I hold onto my dad. Priti jumped cover grand pa still lying on bed. She was terrified that window might fall on him. I don’t remember if my mom who was carrying 3 month old neice grabbed me or my dad from behind. She doesn’t remember either. I could hear terrible cracking sound of termor. I saw turtle aquarium water splashing out as if it had hit tide. I closed my eyes. Chanted Gayatri Mantra along with my mom and dad. May be my grandma was chanting it too who was still holding to the door of her bedroom. Priti might have been chanting the same as she protected shievering grandpa. My uncle and aunty who was still upstairs with two of the three children might have frantically chanted the mantra too. With every chant I wish earth stopped rocking. But it just continued until 1 minute may be. I imagined it lasted hour. And it was the longest 1 minute of my life. And it will always be. Not just for me but for every people who beared it.
Priti and I were watching The Good, The Bad and The Weird, the Korean adaptation of Clint Eastwood’s famous The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Hence the title.
We were half an hour through movie and was started to getting excited, but the tremor took it all. I don’t think I will ever complete that movie.