One Day on Earth..11.11.11

It was early morning of 11.11.11. The very first morning in Biratnagar. Priti and I were picked up at 7:30 from the Swagatam hotel to go on filming trip for UNDP. It was nice warm November morning, unlike a Kathmandu one. Latif and Guna tagged along with us from UNDP office out there. Latif is head of UNIRP and Guna, ex-water system engineer, now works under Latif on various projects.
Wonderful road, empty road, no traffic jams like in Kathmandu, and speed of 80 kilometer per hour. Most prominent trespassers were bicycles, rickshaw-wallas, and tractors. It was rare and for-a-change kind of view for us.
UNDP hired us for “One Day on Earth Project , 11.11.11.”. This year’s theme was to film ex-combatants who are being supported by United Nations Interagency Rehabilitation Programme (UNIRP) to reestablish their life as civilians after being forced to leave Maoist Military camp. It is one of the missions headed under UNDP and under it, ex-combatants receive training like tailoring, cooking, or certain amount to open a retail shop, depending upon the interest and capability of the individual. 4008 combatants expelled from camp in 2010, fall under VMLR (Verified Minors and Late Recruits).
The day earlier, we went to UNIRP office to meet Latif and his team for next day’s project. This was my first encounter with everyone and even the notion of the project that I was going to film on 11.11.11. Everyone started to explain what they do. Related and unrelated, both. They kept using unfamiliar words/works they do for UNIRP. So, more than half of the things were flying over my head, due to delayed flight and hunger as well. At the end, or also I would rather say, at the 11th hour, I received handful of reading material. We had to check in hotel, read all those papers and prepare question and rush to field very early morning! Wallah!! What a fab job!! Thank you UNDP for not giving me all these materials in prior for study, although I kept asking about it for weeks. They also warned that the ex-combatants we meet might go aggressive if asked sensitive questions. That is what we had to keep in mind while compiling questions.
Our first destination was Ramganj, Sunsari. A remote village of Musars. They are rat-eaters, or musa-eaters as we say in Nepali, hence termed Musars. A simple villagers, who work at somebody else’ land all day, to meet their two meals a day need. Interviewed a boy who owned a retail shop. He received financial help of 40,000 from UNIRP. He said he was doing well and his father seems to be happier with the support he received. Priti gelled very well with Tharu women and kids. She spoke to them in Hindi while they kept replying in Maithili. It was pretty hilarious situation. If Latif had to explain the situation he would say, “It was pretty hilarious Priti.” He immediately got fond of our names, Nikki-Priti. He used word “pretty” to describe every situation just to tease Priti.
After an hour of filming, we went to the Training center near Itahari. That too went good. We stopped by Gorkhali Departments for lunch. It was only famous store in Itahari. Not just for Itaharians, but also for its neighbor districts like Dharan, Biratnagar, and Inaruwa. Clean and healthy ambiance, grocery store, ice cream parlor, nice food court, etc. There Latif asked our drive to take photos of him, Priti and me together. He asked us to stand on either side. C’mon!! How would 4 feet 9 inches tall girls look on either side of 6 feet Afgan man? Not to forget bulky too. Photo looked pretty hilarious and odd.
Third destination was another remote place called Dangighat. It is on the way to Jhapa pass Khursane from Itahari. We interviewed a very polite mother of two kids. I think she was as young as 22. Her husband is still in camp as combatant in Bharatpur. She received 7 weeks tailoring training from UNIRP. And now she has one-man tailor shop of her own at her bamboo house.
In route to different destination, we would talk about several issues that these ex-combatants had faced after they were expelled. They were promised a fairy tale life by whoever, which of course never came true. But yet their hopes for it are still alive.
Latif never missed a chance to flaunt his new Ipad. Sometimes to check mail, to take our photos and once in a while to interview us and himself. We recorded a nice video on it. Hopefully he will send us the photos and videos when he returns from Nepalgunj next week.
Finally, we went to Inaruwa, to catch a last interview with a young cook, one of the VM (Verified Minors). He was quite interesting and confident. He was recruited by best hotels in Biratnagar and Morang immediately on completion of training. Even his recent owner confirmed, his business rose after this boy took command in his kitchen. He had tons of stories to share and my camera battery was dying. Bummer.
I had checked out of hotel morning so that I could stay with Nikki Chaudhary’s family after that shoot. We all came back to our respective places. Refreshed. Relaxed. Had dinner. Then I downloaded all the films on my computer. I reviewed them in tit-a-bit and started panicking. Priti freaked out. We had some major problems in filming. Darn, I am so dead. I immediately called Latif in middle of his dinner. I told him I had this stupid problem and I need to re-shoot all of them. Tomorrow, I need to do it Tomorrow. He asked to come see him next morning. I was too impatient and worried. I rang him again and asked if I could go see him right then. In 10 minutes, I was there. He could immediately figure out I was worried. And worried beyond extent. I showed him footages on my camera. I thought I would outburst. But he was quite, calm and experienced guy. He has gone through all kind of problems, he said. He told me stories on the worst thing has happened to him and he managed to come out of them with cool head. And he would take care of everything and easily get permission if I had to reshoot. Also, I could cry or scream then and there, to tone down my panic. I went back home with all his kind words and console.
Priti was tired and asleep. I couldn’t sleep, so, I turned on computer watched all the footages. And as I kept watching my mood started lifting up. Because I saw less and less flaw. At the end of the footage, I knew only the first part, the Ramganj one, had problem. I texted Latif late night explaining the situation, and went to bed happily. I carefully ran my fingers into Priti’s hair and said, everything is all right, we have done our best. Of course she didn’t hear that because she was under sound sleep. Inside my mind, I planned few things on how to start movies and what the flow should be.
Saturday, we went on tour to Dharan with Nitesh and aunty. It was a pleasure to see the places, where we had never been to.
And I am back home today, after quick re-shoot at Ramganj.

You never ‘get over it,’ you ‘get on with it,’ and you never ‘move on,’ but you ‘move forward.’”

When I read "Understanding Grief, by Jane E. Brody", I thought I should also write about how I have grieved when I lost my father. It was so sudden, within a period of 5 days, my father was no more. Relatively a healthy man suffered a brain stroke. It was Sunday, midday, I was ready Sherlock Holmes book by Ted Ricardi. There was humdrum upstairs, someone fell down, when I ran upstairs, I saw few people holding my father by arms. He had already lost sense on his right side of the body. I didn't know it was brain stroke, I immediately called a taxi with my brother, don't ask why I didn't call for an ambulance. Took him to Teaching Hospital, emergency ward, no doctors or nurses, everyone had gone out for lunch. An intern doctor attended my father, she was unsure of the situation. Later, a lot lot later, doctors arrive, they studied MRI report and told me I was very very late in rushing my father to the hospital. When I said, within half an hour of attack I brought him here, they started nervously dispersing away from me and my father. Then and there I decided I will never go back to Teaching Hospital, because of the carelessness all the doctors and nurses have had. The same lady intern quickly made reports and advised me I take him to Neuro Hospital. We took an ambulance to there, all the doctors there quickly attended my father. This time doctors were not reckless but fully arrogant. Who would not be? After all, they are super doctors of this world-class hospital of Nepal. Few hours long surgery, 48 hours of waiting and much patience, Dr. Devkota broke the news, that dad would never wake up. It was Thursday, 13th of Aug, 8:30 PM (28th of Shrawan), the day we lost our dad and he lost all his sufferings.

I still remember my mom and we four siblings grieving his death. The sound of wailing still reverberates in my ear after two and a half years.

We talk about him all the time, include him in our conversation. Enact how he would react to different situations but my mom can't look at dad's photo yet and my sister never see his videos.

He was one active person. Always talking, always walking. He could never sit idle. All of us were relieved when his sufferings ended with his demise. I think he lost the sense of suffering as soon as he went for surgery. I somewhere knew he would not wake up and if he woke up he would be incurably speechless and bedridden for all his life. A talkative person like him, at loss of speech and the person who walked everywhere a bedridden one, would kill him even more. That would be 100 times more sufferings than death. 

 

You never ‘get over it,’ you ‘get on with it,’ and you never ‘move on,’ but you ‘move forward.’

There is nothing in this world I miss except for my father. At the age of 57, he had to leave us all behind with the empty spot in our lives. We are getting on with your absence with you in our heart and moving forward with you in our lives.

 

Miss you Dad! Here is wishing that you are in Baikuntha and blessing us always.

Jobless but not Workless

 On my 35th Birthday today I am jobless but certainly not workless. 22nd of December was my last day at work after 12.8 years. No, it was in fact after 16.1 years and 3 organizations. Darn, its half of my life what I have lived so far. I literally feel that every day is a Saturday-Sunday and again a Saturday-Sunday, go on!! All the days after last Friday have been busy ones. Cousin’s function, photographing it, editing photos and sending them out to everyone. I have not had chance to miss my work yet i.e. desk job, as I have a long to-do list for 2 weeks already. Started with vacuum-cleaning and scrubbing floors, next is cleaning bathroom tiles, windows, doors, followed by painting walls. I wouldn’t do the painting I have hired a professional for that. Oh and a New Year 2018!! What after two weeks, maybe I go to Biratnagar to see other Nikki blessed with her first born. A boy or a girl, we shall see that on Jan 13th. I opened my laptop to write the whole blog, but I guess words don’t come easy, so there goes my “Jobless but not workless” in nutshell.

Meeting JP Cross or John Paul Cross. I would like to call him more Nepali than me.

My sister and I met him on an interview assignment. It was 10 in morning, we finally landed at Pokhara airport after much delayed 8:30 am flight. Although I go to Pokhara every 3 or 4 years this was the first time I saw reputed mountains. The flight itself was a visual treat as if I was on a Mountain flight instead of Pokhara. My mom couldn't keep eye off of the window. She loves mountain she loves hills. And there I saw Machapucchera for the first time and I took photos with it as soon as we landed.

Checked into Hotel Snowland. Fairly good, because although the room was nice and clean with attached bathroom, which is must, there was constant annoying construction sound right outisde the hotel compound.

Up until now I had received plenty "kaa pugnu vayo" (where have you reached) call from Buddhiman ji, adopted son of JP Cross. What I love about Mr. Cross is he is so full of life, healthy, very routined and always smiling. So Welcoming.

We took taxi to his place, unfortunately I cannot recall the name of of place after 5 months of my visit. Yes I should have wrote this blog in April when I met him. There, two elderly handsome men raised hands to wave at us. They came out of house, waited for us on road, lest we got lost. Greeting us three with namaste and they led us in to his domain. He has this huge house, and huge dogs. Mind you Pokhara is much more expensive than Kathmandu, real estate wise.

Buddhiman ji had to leave because of his upcoming election campaign. Mr. Cross told us his history tale, he losing his eyes and hearing ability and so on and so fourth. Between his humours tale and stories, I was worried about his my size German Shephard (I think) which was lying just next to my feet. If I moved my feet and hit him, I could be his food in one gulp.

I tell you, Mr. Cross is one mesmerizing and pure soul, we all were smiling ear to ear, during his interview be that in Nepali or English. One could listen to him on and on. Like I said earlier, he is more Nepali than me. He spoke perfect Nepali without inserting any English words in his dialogue. The one word I caught that my grandfather uses and I never use is "sitimiti" which means rarely. Anyway I can go on and on praising him. After few more chats and quick round of fruits we had to say good-bye.

He got up as we packed our bags and said, I can give you nothing but ashirwad (blessings) and cupped his hands on my head. That was the most beautiful moment for me. I had tears in my eyes and I choked with happiness. Same happened to my mom and sister.

Splendid day with Mr. Cross ended there. Left with happy and heavy heart. Happy because we could meet him. Heavy because it was short. Had it not been for British Council Nepal's assignment, we would have never met Mr. Cross. So, Thank you BC.

Gai Jatra Procession in loving Memory of my Dad

                                           

                                    (Pralad Thapa (2014-Mangshir-4 - 2072-Shrawan-28) 

When I pitched "Gai Jatra " reportage to Hinduism Today on the 27th of July,  I never envisaged that my house will be one of the many to conduct the Gai Jatra procession this year.

The next day of Janai Purnima (Raksha Bandhan in India) is celebrated in Kathmandu Valley as Gai Jatra, 'the procession of cows'. This year it was on 30th of August. Kathmandu valley locals believe that this is the day when Yama, the God of Death opens the gates of judgement.  The soul of anybody who died after the previous year's Gai Jatra, wanders a perilous journey until this day and it is best assisted on its way by holding on to the tail of a holy cow.  Also, on this day, the cow will push the gates of Yama's realm open, so that the soul can enter for judgement. If a cow is unavailable then a young boy dressed as a cow is considered a fair substitute, parade through the streets, thereby helping the deceased to find their niche in the afterlife. People, who, for any reason fail to lead procession, distribute food and drink to the cows parading in neighborhood.

                    

With the devastating earthquake that took thousands of peoples' life alone in Kathmandu Valley, there had to be outrageous number of participants, parading Kathmandu streets, in guise of cow and saints in pair, in loving memory of their deceased ones. That is what happened. Unending lines of families walked from Kathmandu Durbar Square, through Naradevi chok, Ason and to Thaiti, and some circumambulated in reversed order locations as well. Families seemed shortage of boys to walk as cow, for even infants, still feeding on bottle milk, mounted on father's lap were parading. Some of the families carried huge posters of their beloved ones. Photos of two pretty teenager on banners caught my eye, I believe they were sisters, I couldn't fathom what their family must be going through to lose both their precious daughters in one disaster.

When a medieval period King, Pratap Malla, after failing in many ways to console his queen grieving over the loss of their son, announced a large reward for anybody who could bring a smile to the queen's  face. Droves of people turned out in front of the palace dressed in outlandish costumes, lampooning all aspects of Nepalese society on the Gai Jatra day.  The queen laughed when the social injustices and other evils were highlighted and attacked mercilessly, and thus the jokes, satire, mockery also became a tradition.

                         

My relatives came to house early in morning for the Gai Jatra preparation. It was the 18th day of my father's demise. We lost him within 5 days of brain attack at the Neuro Hospital. He was only 57 years and 8 months old. All the 13 day last rites were performed according to Hindu Sashtra. Those 13 days were multi-tasking days for me and my sister, as my brothers and mom remained in whites, isolated in a room and forbidden even to touch one another. We were mourning, listening to Garuda purana (a Hindu myth on how a deceased journeys to the other world), receiving and feeding visitors, shopping for the final day rites and also crying our heart out, when we had time apart all the necessities that needed immediate attention.
We had two boys aged 11. My cousin helped one of them deck as a cow and other as a sadhu. This ritual were new for the boys hence much excited. My mom and then everyone put each of them tika and gave money and food, before sending them out to roam city in guise of cow and sadhu in hopes that they help lead my father's soul to baikuntha (heaven). They paraded my neighborhood for a while and rode car to Hanuman Dhoka Durbar Square. My brothers and uncles accompanied them carrying big bags to collect the daaan, food and money alms, boys receive while they parade through the ancient alleys of Malla regime, along with many other cows and sadhus. Poor boys were exhausted, so we made stops whenever they needed restrings. Within an hour and a half, we were done with circumambulation, which marked the end of ceremony.

There were mixed emotions; we were happy that we performed all the rituals that could help my father reach baikuntha and the same time very devastated that we now have to continue living with this empty space in our heart, mind and house.

I survived this historic earthquake only to lose my father within few months.

                        

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.

One day on Earth

This blog should have been enlisted under 2012 as I should have written (am writing) my experience on my third and probably the last experience on "one day on Earth" project, 12.12.12 with UNDP Nepal.

Never been to Kakani before and never knew that Kakani was in Nuwakot. I always misconceived them to be two different places far far away from one another. Anyway journey began a day before 12.12.12 to Kakani. In mere 2 hours ride in a big UN white vehicle we were in Kakani's guest house so contrary to what I've imagined a hotel to be. Chilly and absolutely out of place to be Taragaon.

We un-equipped ourselves and set out for a quick tour through Okharpauwa village in Nuwakot down west from the hotel I stayed. A cute village but way rural than conception I had in my mind. I was further flabbergasted to see kids running along the vehicle bare feet and just a shirt on in some cases in December, while I was all jacketed and sweatered. All the people designating me ma'am and sharing their experiences of  their involvement in producing and trading cash crops like strawberries, roses and peas instead of their regular crops. I love it when I see Nepalese benefiting from agriculture. May be it is because my country is largely an Agriculture based country and in my heart somewhere there is a farming hermit. Plus it is also a slap to faces who say there is no opportunity in this country.

The next morning we woke up as early as we could to film the sunrise and the magnificent Ganesh Himal. I was the camera person for the whole project, did I mention that earlier? There was a beautiful sunrise between trees but apropos Ganesh Himal it was not a lucky that day for me.

We had a quick breakfast of fried rice and tomato soup to fuel ourselves enough for the all day long shoot and also to return back the same day. Walked up and down the hills of Nuwakot with my camera gear, filmed the humble farmers, their families and their unimaginable farm. I was just blown away and so was my sister Priti who was in charge of all the film production. She later made a short film on our tour to Nuwakot farming too. Basically that is what we were there for. https://vimeo.com/57041358

We had taken needful technical precautions and learned from our last year mistakes during similar project in Biratnagar. It was one hell of a ride back then.

All the filming, interviews, photography ended with well served meal of dhido and saag, a debut meal for me and my sister.

Although the trip sounds flawless we did have some hiccups like, road was narrow and bumpy that I was frightened to look out of the window the cliff below. I had this terror that one wrong move and we would all tumble down the hill nowhere to be found in one piece. Then there was a time where the width of a road was not enough to pass that big car and the villagers have to build a passable road. Then again, I am famous for clumsy walking and stumbling and people laughing at my mess.

It was a marvel filming trip. We rewarded ourselves munching fresh strawberries and peas right out of the farm and also rewarded our families back home with purchase of strawberries, peas, cauliflowers, etc.

Chewar

I attend typical Magar Chewar last Sunday and I was very much thrilled to see the ritual performed in a cowshed. As being born and raised in Kathmandu itself, I reckoned how I and my relatives are so far away from our ethics and value. I have seen lots of Chewars (bartaman) of boys in the family. We have followed the typical bahun-chettri customs, which is much-elaborated celebrations unlike what I witnessed now.
Brihaspati Thapa, my friend's son, is a handsome boy. He was looking absolutely awesome in his dhaka topi and daura suruwal made of textile called kaash. He was very happy that day.
His Mama (Maternal uncle) took him to a cow shed, tied him there with damlo (rope) assuming he was a cow, although all his family elders teased him to be goru (ox). Then Mama has him herbs hold in his mouth, which he is supposed to clasp between his lips (as if he was a real cow and chewing grass) throughout the head-shaving ritual. After shaving Brihaspati's head, Mama gave him new clothes and money as dakshina. Then the boy was asked to choose his favourites among; books, pens, fruits, khukuri etc. The shy boy pondered for a while and chose "Elementry Chemistry book". "Oh this means he will be a master saheb (teacher) just like his father, his elder cousin mocked him and laughter shook the weak walls of the shed.
The Chewar was over within half an hour which was followed by giving him tika (red forehead marking) by all his family members, relatives and eventually by my mother, also giving his presents for this initiation ceremony.
According to Brihaspati's aunt, Celebrant is tied as cow in shed made him chew herbs while shaving his head, because before chewar boys are like animals (I hope she meant cute animals like puppy, hehe). Undergoing/observing this ritual leads him to manhood and also qualifies him to participate in the death rites when his parents die.

Amchi Conference

I attended a conference today at Martin Chautari on Tibetan Medicine and healers. 4 Tibetan Medicine scholars led it;

Dr. Sienna Craig, Dartmouth College

Calum Blaikie, University of Kent

Barbara Gerke, Humbolt University

Theresia Hofer, University of Oslo.

They came to Nepal as THE HIMALAYAN AMCHI ASSOCIATION, which was founded in 1998. Also partly supported by Ministry of Health and CTEVT.

It was 8 daylong workshop programme on “Making Efficacious Medicines”. Amchis (Tibetan medical doctors) from various parts of Nepal, India and Tibet participated and shared their experience. Educated one another about their recipe of medicines, so and so forth. Unfortunately I did not get chance to participate in the workshop but I attended last day talk at Martin Chautari.

Dr. Sienna, Calum, Barabara and Theresia took their turn and explained about the situation of Tibetan Medicines and amchis in Nepal, China, Tibet and India.

Here are the few interesting points that I found interesting and jotted down as notes:

- I always had misconception that Ayurveda and Tibetan medicine were same.

-To become an Amchi, one has to excel in botany, geography, geology, chemistry, trading (sell them), and also at the end in teaching.

Botany- to identify the plants/herbs

Geography/Geology- to understand what plants grow at which climate or palces

Chemistry: Knowledge of proportion of several herbs to make medicine.

Trading: right skill to sell the medicines

Teaching: Teach medical studies to the generation next.

-According to Amchis, their laboratory is their tongue. They taste to test the quality and efficacy of the ingredients.

-Amchis are constantly working on finding substitutions for the must-ingredients from endangered animals like rhino horn, tiger paw, elephant gallbladder etc. And same goes for the endangered plants too. Meanwhile, lots of fake ingredients are also in market to influence. For eg: vendor rub sandal wood on normal wood and sell it as sandal wood.

-Amchis in India, China and Tibet no more medicines on their own. Factories do their job. This is one of the demerits, due to the institutionalization after their government recognized/certified the Tibetan medicine and its practice.

-Tibetan Medical Hospitals in China and Tibet are blooming in comparison to Nepal, where Tibetan Medical practice is still to be recognized and certified by Government. Hospitals there receive 300 patients everyday. Their factories produce 100 different types of medicines everyday. But there is no practice of cultivation of herbs for future. Consequently, these herbs will extinct in next 20 years.

-Bulk (70%) of the Tibetan medicine ingredients are exported from Nepal, and rest 30% from other parts of the world (Tibet, India, China).

-Nepal Gov doesn’t even know the term “Amchi”, although the practice has existed in Nepal for 1000 years. Due to the dialect problem Amchis of rural areas of Nepal are not organized or institutionalized and still are individuals. Somehow, Amchis from all over Nepal need to come together as a team. They have to work and understand one another and voice their way to get approval from Government.

For that, Amchis at least need to make medicines and prove that they scientifically and practically will cure certain chronic disease.

Also delineate merits of Tibetan medicine v/s western medicine.

-Does one need to be Buddhist to practice Tibetan Medical Science, because Rimpoches (Buddhist masters) empower every medicine before distribution? The empowerment ritual is called Wong.

-What role does empowerment play in medicine? Do Tibetan medicines need mandatory empowerment? Does the process increase the value of Tibetan medicine or is it ok just to use them without empowering?

-According to SOWA RIGPA; medical science should be separated from religion.

-According to Amchis in Lhasa: One doesn’t have to be monk to practice Tibetan medical science. HH Dalai Lama supports it too.

As a sum up, it was wonderful experience to participate in the conference. I learnt many things besides just knowing how to spell amchi.

Other thing that fascinated me was the questions from Anthropology students. Sienna and team were really mesmerized at the participation and interest.

From my past experience at various conferences, the question-answer round was really funny in a bad way, because there, journalist never failed to make fool out of themselves with the kind of questions they ask.

Filming again

Today I had to go film Kristina, my cousin sister, at Kathmandu Durbar Square.

She wore a red Nepali dress with yellow patuki (sash), Priti applied beautiful make-up on her. She was looking so pretty, like any Barbie doll.

We filmed her at Kaal Bhairav, on rickshaw, feeding pigeon at the square etc. And wherever we went, she would soon be surrounded by tourist to take her picture. To photograph and film themselves with her. Everyone turned to me to praise her, her patience and her enigma. They almost took them home.

Although she was very enthusiastic about she coming into camera, she was kind of going out track. There was a point when I started losing my temper because she was not following what I was saying. Then again I realized, bichara, she is giving her best, without any homework. Haha.

Her father (my uncle) knew how to handle her better. She is his daughter after all. So, he did a dance-walk to show how she should be performing for my camera. How she should laugh. How she should not stop when the camera is still rolling. So on and so forth. I wish I too had that in my mind.

It was a nice 2 hour shoot.

I really have to develop my skill when it comes to being patient with others.

One Day on Earth..11.11.11

It was early morning of 11.11.11. The very first morning in Biratnagar. Priti and I were picked up at 7:30 from the Swagatam hotel to go on filming trip for UNDP. It was nice warm November morning, unlike a Kathmandu one. Latif and Guna tagged along with us from UNDP office out there. Latif is head of UNIRP and Guna, ex-water system engineer, now works under Latif on various projects.
Wonderful road, empty road, no traffic jams like in Kathmandu, and speed of 80 kilometer per hour. Most prominent trespassers were bicycles, rickshaw-wallas, and tractors. It was rare and for-a-change kind of view for us.
UNDP hired us for “One Day on Earth Project , 11.11.11.”. This year’s theme was to film ex-combatants who are being supported by United Nations Interagency Rehabilitation Programme (UNIRP) to reestablish their life as civilians after being forced to leave Maoist Military camp. It is one of the missions headed under UNDP and under it, ex-combatants receive training like tailoring, cooking, or certain amount to open a retail shop, depending upon the interest and capability of the individual. 4008 combatants expelled from camp in 2010, fall under VMLR (Verified Minors and Late Recruits).
The day earlier, we went to UNIRP office to meet Latif and his team for next day’s project. This was my first encounter with everyone and even the notion of the project that I was going to film on 11.11.11. Everyone started to explain what they do. Related and unrelated, both. They kept using unfamiliar words/works they do for UNIRP. So, more than half of the things were flying over my head, due to delayed flight and hunger as well. At the end, or also I would rather say, at the 11th hour, I received handful of reading material. We had to check in hotel, read all those papers and prepare question and rush to field very early morning! Wallah!! What a fab job!! Thank you UNDP for not giving me all these materials in prior for study, although I kept asking about it for weeks. They also warned that the ex-combatants we meet might go aggressive if asked sensitive questions. That is what we had to keep in mind while compiling questions.
Our first destination was Ramganj, Sunsari. A remote village of Musars. They are rat-eaters, or musa-eaters as we say in Nepali, hence termed Musars. A simple villagers, who work at somebody else’ land all day, to meet their two meals a day need. Interviewed a boy who owned a retail shop. He received financial help of 40,000 from UNIRP. He said he was doing well and his father seems to be happier with the support he received. Priti gelled very well with Tharu women and kids. She spoke to them in Hindi while they kept replying in Maithili. It was pretty hilarious situation. If Latif had to explain the situation he would say, “It was pretty hilarious Priti.” He immediately got fond of our names, Nikki-Priti. He used word “pretty” to describe every situation just to tease Priti.
After an hour of filming, we went to the Training center near Itahari. That too went good. We stopped by Gorkhali Departments for lunch. It was only famous store in Itahari. Not just for Itaharians, but also for its neighbor districts like Dharan, Biratnagar, and Inaruwa. Clean and healthy ambiance, grocery store, ice cream parlor, nice food court, etc. There Latif asked our drive to take photos of him, Priti and me together. He asked us to stand on either side. C’mon!! How would 4 feet 9 inches tall girls look on either side of 6 feet Afgan man? Not to forget bulky too. Photo looked pretty hilarious and odd.
Third destination was another remote place called Dangighat. It is on the way to Jhapa pass Khursane from Itahari. We interviewed a very polite mother of two kids. I think she was as young as 22. Her husband is still in camp as combatant in Bharatpur. She received 7 weeks tailoring training from UNIRP. And now she has one-man tailor shop of her own at her bamboo house.
In route to different destination, we would talk about several issues that these ex-combatants had faced after they were expelled. They were promised a fairy tale life by whoever, which of course never came true. But yet their hopes for it are still alive.
Latif never missed a chance to flaunt his new Ipad. Sometimes to check mail, to take our photos and once in a while to interview us and himself. We recorded a nice video on it. Hopefully he will send us the photos and videos when he returns from Nepalgunj next week.
Finally, we went to Inaruwa, to catch a last interview with a young cook, one of the VM (Verified Minors). He was quite interesting and confident. He was recruited by best hotels in Biratnagar and Morang immediately on completion of training. Even his recent owner confirmed, his business rose after this boy took command in his kitchen. He had tons of stories to share and my camera battery was dying. Bummer.
I had checked out of hotel morning so that I could stay with Nikki Chaudhary’s family after that shoot. We all came back to our respective places. Refreshed. Relaxed. Had dinner. Then I downloaded all the films on my computer. I reviewed them in tit-a-bit and started panicking. Priti freaked out. We had some major problems in filming. Darn, I am so dead. I immediately called Latif in middle of his dinner. I told him I had this stupid problem and I need to re-shoot all of them. Tomorrow, I need to do it Tomorrow. He asked to come see him next morning. I was too impatient and worried. I rang him again and asked if I could go see him right then. In 10 minutes, I was there. He could immediately figure out I was worried. And worried beyond extent. I showed him footages on my camera. I thought I would outburst. But he was quite, calm and experienced guy. He has gone through all kind of problems, he said. He told me stories on the worst thing has happened to him and he managed to come out of them with cool head. And he would take care of everything and easily get permission if I had to reshoot. Also, I could cry or scream then and there, to tone down my panic. I went back home with all his kind words and console.
Priti was tired and asleep. I couldn’t sleep, so, I turned on computer watched all the footages. And as I kept watching my mood started lifting up. Because I saw less and less flaw. At the end of the footage, I knew only the first part, the Ramganj one, had problem. I texted Latif late night explaining the situation, and went to bed happily. I carefully ran my fingers into Priti’s hair and said, everything is all right, we have done our best. Of course she didn’t hear that because she was under sound sleep. Inside my mind, I planned few things on how to start movies and what the flow should be.
Saturday, we went on tour to Dharan with Nitesh and aunty. It was a pleasure to see the places, where we had never been to.
And I am back home today, after quick re-shoot at Ramganj.

Exhibition "Separating Myth from Reality"

“Separating Myth from Reality—The status of Woman” is the title of exhibition that I was looking forward for the long time. The exhibition that I had worked hard to put together. The exhibition which is metaphor for the world that still has traditional trajectories and prejudices that have bound women and restrict them from realizing their innate potential.

More than 94 artist and photographers had contributed in the show at 6 different venues in Kathmandu and Patan. It was very pleasant and proud to see the arts and artifacts done by emerging Nepali artist from Lalit Kala Campus and Kathmandu University. All the student participants were younger to me and gave me a serious complexity with their talent.

TLK had provided 10 photos for exhibition, from his book “Fallen Angels-The Sex Workers of South Asia”. Plus 18 copies of the same book. The book he is very proud of, that showcases the 10 years tenure of 10 Photographers along with 8 writers and over 20 stories of sex workers of South Asia.

Very much excited to be the part of the show. Had a very busy and exhausting morning as Sangeeta Thapa has summoned us to be at Art Council at 1 PM, even though the inauguration event was scheduled for 3, to help her putting up photos and captions.

Until 1:15 I was having upsetting chat conversation over googlemail.

Quarter past one. Driver was missing. He was off to airport to drop Mrs. VCD, and we were all late for the show. Quickly finished up my instant noodles and ran to taxi stand. Thank god! Taxi driver knew where the art council is, as I hardly remembered where the big building stood.

Here we are Mr. Nepal Art Council!!

Repeatedly asking, “Where is Mrs. Thapa”, at every storey of Nepal art council, till I reached atop. Where the venue was set for the opening of the show. Seeing me, arrived, she jumped towards me explaining why our captions were not set along side the photos yet. She quickly ran downstairs to know the whereabouts of the captions. All the photos were nicely put. Arranged the way we wanted. I quickly ran through all the main photographers of the show in the venue. And my eyes were caught by some of the fashion photography of Nepali Photographer Kashish Das Shrestha, based out of New York. Who I noticed later during the ceremony with his camera. A gentleman indeed!
His imagery were unique amidst over all mourning photos of women. For it showed more of a vamped women walking Fashion Ramp. One of his photos that I really liked was “sharply focused hands clapping at blurred models walking on the left.” I wish I had camera when I was there so that I could share it here.

There was nothing much to do to help at council. Everything was set fine. So, Priti and I decided to navigate through the photos and on-going preparation downstairs. The first thing anybody noticed was rice sprouting out of river sand (see the pic, cant define the structure hehe), making Wel-Come notation. Followed by Kishor Kayastha’s work. Pretty intrinsic and set up collage photos. His mud plastered model, portrayed women in various dispositions of life, and the black canvas frame just complimented the moods.

Modern arts by Indian and Pakistani artist ornate the first floor. They natured women’s vulnerability, gender discrimination, oppression, prejudice and also happiness for change in some. Theme of most of them just flew above my head and could barely figure out if they were hung alright or upside down.
Surfing through Nepali artist’ works, I thought of my BFA friend CMS. I wish he too had contributed his work here. I know one of his paintings on motherhood would just fit well in the flow of the show.

Ceramic artifacts by Netherlands artist broke the monotony of Photography and modern art. Pink phallus motifs, black bosom and colourful tiny sperms hung across wall were absolutely creative. Wondered, what was she thinking when she designed that? What could be the message behind them? Mystery!!

Mrs. Thapa was finally back, with tags for our imagery. They had no information about the photos except for the image ID. She apologized the print failure putting all the blame upon our file that didn’t open up on her computer. That was not done! She could have notified the accident prior to show. We could have sent her the other file or seek out alternative. I was pissed off at her NO-CARE attitude.

Finally the show started at quarter past three, upon arrival of Ex-PM Surya B. Thapa. All the dignitaries were respectively seated and all of them addressed the show as their turn came up. Followed, the song by a 20 year old Gandarva lady and Rashmila Shakya, the Ex-|Royal-Kumari (the living goddess of Nepal). She was divine at the tender age of 3 through 12th year, and now dumped into mortal world. She is an IT designer at one of the leading company in Nepal. She was pretty and her cheerful face glowed as she shared her memories of being Kumari. I liked her simple English in Newari tonality. Reminded me of a dear friend, CMS, who I had noticed speaking Japanese similarly over phone. This was the second time I missed CMS during the show. And somehow I had already managed, to making him feel sorry for missing this wonderful International SHOW over and over again.

This was the first ever international photography show happening in Nepal. To my disappointment, the show was slightly messy and lack of co-ordination was noticeable.
I have planned to visit all the six venues through 6th of November. With that also looking fwd for another grand show in 2011.

Oye! It's Friday

Its Friday, the weekend. And my Yahoo Messenger’s status is set to TGIF, Thank God Its Friday! And luckily Friday happens to be my favorable according to my astrology chart as well.

Here is one of the evidence on how lucky is Friday for me.

As usual I was chating with my friend Nikki Chaudhary between my work at office. My boss should never realize that I am misusing office's internet service on chat and not to forget FACEBOOK surfing. She is my only e-pal who is lady and I met her on HI5. She added me to her friend list, because we shared same name and both of us’ are named NIKKI, which is just 'Nikki', and not a short form to Nikita, Nicole, or Nicholas so and so fourth.

Nikki and I talk about everything under sun. From pulling leg to giving serious advices on life philosophy. From ex boy friend to existing one. From hair style to toe’s nail polish. We both are blessed with exceptional ability of gossiping.

Today, we were talking about Tharus, the clan she belongs to. She was correcting and educating me about Tharus, and their sharp distinction from Madhesi and Thakuris of Terai.
Man! Madhesi and Tharus are one of the hot political turmoil in Nepal, these days. They are tussling with one another for their individual existence.

I mentioned her that she was the second Tharu friend of mine, where as first is Anjana Jha. There, she explained me that Jha doesn’t belong to Tharu clan. She paused a while and said, “Did u say Anjana Jha? Is she one of the four sister-siblings of Mrs. Archana?” Astonished me hit back, “YES, DEAR.” She exclaimed, “oh my good”, and continued describing me Anjana’s family tree. I am equally perplexed by then with my mouth wide-open. Wonder, what if my office was also favourite housing for flies and mosquitoes.

She gave me link to Mrs. Archana’s family photo. Archana didi has such close resemblance to Anjana, that, I hollered, “Yes Nikku we are talking about the same Anjana”. TOO BAD! That she wouldn’t hear my ecstatic screaming, for we were text chating without web cam.

Anjana, Suku and myself, were three close musketiers of 1999 through 2001 batch of I.Sc. at Tri Chandra College. And I had almost lost in touch with Anjana until today, when I finally called her up, after such nostalgic conversation about her with Nikki pal. Where as I am off and on on phone with Suku Gurung, now famous as Mrs. Suku Gurung Gautam and mommy to Priyanka and babu. Damn! I don't even know what her son's name is.

Oh I almost forgot to mention, Archana didi is wife of very dear friend of Krishna Chaudhary, who I didn’t catch name of. And Krishna Chaudhary is hubby dear of Nikki Chaudhary. And That is how, Archana didi is vauju of Nikki Chaudhary.

Today, if I really believed the world is round, then, I would say this story of rendezvous with Anjana via Nikki Chaudhary is one of the evident.

But, this is not the first time that Nikki Chaudhary and I had collided astonishing one another with common friends. It started one and a half year ago with Sujan Thapa.

Sujan Thapa is my buddy, who went to an Engineering college with Nikki Chaudhary when she was doing her BIT at Nepal Engineering College..
Saroj Regmi, who I knew through Sujan, has been Nikki Chaudhary’s classmate during her time in Nepal Engineering College.
Dipesh Siwakoti, another e-pal, was senior to Nikki Chaudhary at Nepal Engineering College..
Persis Prasai, my childhood friend, is Nikki Chaudhary’s idol, because she was topper of Nepal Engineering College, who she calls Persis didi.

And now Anjana Jha. Wow! I am loving it. Enormously!!

Readers may not find this blog so enticing but it was overwhelming encounter for me.

HaPp¥ FrIdA¥!!