South Asia and Beyond: Dashain

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Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Editorial: Happy reading and writing

In a humid summer day some 13 years ago, I left my village in Baglung for higher education. Ever since, I have been stuck in the complexities of a city life. Putting it more euphemistically, I have been pursuing my dreams in the cities.

Am I any nearer to those dreams after these 13 complete years of struggle? Or, are they receding further in the horizon?

As I often say, I was out there to change the world during my teenage years. But does that spirit live as vibrantly now?

It is easy to ask questions but not as easy to answer them. Pursuit of answers to these questions drives me to writing. And I have been writing for quite some time now.

On writing, when I find myself bewildered by my inability to translate my ideas into words, I remember a quote of veteran Pakistani journalist and writer Muhammad Hanif. On being asked how he developed his peculiarly elegant and humorous style in writing, he said; "Today I copied or imitated one writer, tomorrow another, the day after still another. I kept doing so until people started to say 'here, this is the style of Hanif!'."

The grapes

Painting
By Aqeel Abbas

The artist

The author

Memoir

By Saguna Shah

I feel the misogynists among the males greatly outnumber the feminists among females. Also, the relationship between gender and feminism is not that linear in real life; nor is the one between the rhetoric and reality. Preaching values is one thing and practicing them another. In this riveting and brutally honest memoir, Saguna Shah tells her story rather cathartically. Her story is the story of a large number of Nepali women who are born and reared under suffocating embrace of patriarchy and when they discover life for what it really is, they have paid so huge a price that despair comes to befriend them in one way or the other. Shah's story is all the more relevant because it also depicts her stunning come back to life after a bruising and draining battle. This piece was already published in Archana Thapa's "Telling A Tale " as 'Memoirs of Sanomaharani and the Pain Within'. There are 30 more female narratives in the book and it is also included in TU's MPhil course.

कथा

The author

अभय श्रेष्ठ

करीब १२ वर्षअघिको कुरा हो, चंकी श्रेष्ठले एउटा दैनिक पत्रिकामा राशेल कोरीबारे लेखेको एउटा लेखले मलाई लेखक र लेखको पात्र दुवैतिर तान्यो । दुई वषअघि काठमाडौं छिर्दा अभय श्रेष्ठको नामबाट निस्केको कथा संग्रहको 'अ. त. को सत्याग्रहु' शीर्षक कथाले मलाई त्यत्तिकै तान्यो ।

नेपालमा अभय श्रेष्ठले भन्दा राम्रा र लोकप्रिय आख्यान लेख्ने मानिसहरु धेरै छन् । तर आख्यानलाई पनि समाजका उत्पीडित र आवाजविहीनहरुको साहित्य र अन्य गरी दुई भागमा बाँड्ने हो भने पहिलो कित्ताको साहित्य लेखनमा अग्र पंक्तिका केही लेखकहरुमध्ये श्रेष्ठ पनि पर्ने मेरो ठम्याइ छ । विजय मल्लको 'बहुला काजीको सपना' र नारायण ढकालको 'सुनाखरी टोल' संगै अभय श्रेष्ठको 'अ. त. को सत्याग्रहु' र अब 'भुइंचालो' कथाले उत्पीडित वर्गको जीवन उतार्ने साहित्यको रुपमा नेपाली साहित्यमा विशेष स्थान राख्ने मेरो ठम्याइ छ । साथै यो कथाले २०६९ सालभरि गरिमा मासिकमा प्रकाशित गद्यमध्ये उत्कृष्ट ठहरिएर गरिमा गद्य सम्मान पनि पाएको छ ।

The children playing with the worn out and rusted piece of barbed wire fence and their mothers saying that they are freest in the jail and fear being murdered if let free. Can there be a better metaphor than this for life? I think not.

Out of my inability to produce something authentic this time, I have resorted to reflecting something about life with the help of three beleagured Afghan women whose concept of freedom and liberty is upside down.

भोक

Memoir

By Prakash Lamichhane (Baabajee)

The author

Posted on author's blog on नोभेम्बर 22, 2012

(नेपालमा दशवर्षे द्वन्द्वका घाउहरु अझै पुरिएका छैनन् । यो अत्यन्त मर्मस्पर्शी संस्मरणले युद्धमा प्रत्यक्ष गोली नखाए पनि र कुनै आफन्त नगुमाए पनि कसरी मानिसहरु नारकीय जीवन बाँच्न बाध्य भए भनेर युद्धका अप्रत्यक्ष घाउहरु खोतल्ने काम गरेको छ । भोक, अभाव र असुरक्षाले गलित मानिस र मानवीय संवेदना हराइसकेका मानवरुपी प्राणीहरुबीचको चाखलाग्दो अन्तक्र्रिया पनि यो संस्मरणमा पढ्न पाइन्छ । प्रथम पटक लेखकको ब्लगमा प्रकाशित यो संस्मरण लेखकको अनुमतिले यहाँ साभार गरिएको छ । )

People's History of Gaza and Egypt: The Bond Cannot Be Broken

News analysis

The author

By Ramzy Baroud

I used to study in grade 12. One day on way to home in Baglung, I met two tourists in the banks of Kaligandaki who said they were from Israel. 'From Tel Aviv?' I asked and they were excited to find that a glum-looking teenager from Nepal knew the name of an Israeli city. But they were soon disappointed and in fact, terrorized when I said 'Israel has been oppressing Palestinians, depriving them of their land'. Amused at their disgust, I said that everyone in Nepal thinks so. 'You are wrongly informed' was all they could tell me and soon the conversation ended.

12 years later, I have understood much more about the plight of Palestinians yet end to their sufferings is still not in sight. Baroud, the editor of PalestineChronicle.com is a leading intellectual voice today exploring the developments in West Asia for a very wide audience in the world. His two articles have already appeared in this blog and he was prompt to let me republish this article about the latest bout of suffering of the people in Gaza.

The Myth of the U.N. Creation of Israel

Extract

By Jeremy R. Hammond, October 26, 2010

The author

History is written by the winners, pure and simple. The voice of the losers often falls on deaf years. This is why our notion of history is often distorted and many still believe that the European white men were selflessly civilizing the 'barbarian' races by expanding their empires all over the world over the past five or six centuries. No wonder then that the legacy of British empire as the latest formal empire is euphemistically remembered as the flag-carrier of 'free trade and progress'. What is conveniently forgotten is the devastating trail of death and destruction that the British empire left in its erstwhile colonies.

Unfortunately, the devastation did not stop once the empire decided it was no longer profitable to rule those people and decided to leave. While the abominable snap violence in Indian subcontinent during the departure of the Brits keeps sending chills along the spine to date, situation is worse in West Asia: the slaughter, abuse, disempowerment and pauperization of the Arab people goes unabated on behest of Israel with due blessings from today's Britain and the US. And when people ask 'How was Israel created in the first place?', a favorable answer is concocted through a systematic process of subterfuge with help of plain lies, half-truths. In this well-researched article, Hammond, the founding editor of Foreign Policy Journal, empirically makes a strong case against the notion that the entity called Israel was created by United Nations. The first page of the article has been carried here with permission from the author.

By Maung Zarni

Posted on Author's website 'Zarni's blog on Thursday, October 03, 2013

The author

Once, Burma was known for ruthless brutality of its ruling Junta. Now it often draws the world's attention for a different but equally unwelcome reason: religious violence. While many responsible people and analysts in the west try to depict the eruption of violence in Burma as the consequence of the fluidity of the transitional period, many including Dr. Zarni have seen through the whole debacle to conclude that the root cause of the problem lies elsewhere. In a series of articles at his blog, Dr. Zarni has dissected the motive and modus operandi of the rioters and has crucially shed light on the often hidden aspect of intolerance that goes in name of Buddhism in Burma today. This is his second article in this blog.

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विजय कुमारको खुशी पढेपछि

जीवन, खुशी र अहंकार

जीवनमा अफ्ठ्यारा घुम्तीहरुमा हिंडिरहँदा मैले कुनै क्षणमा पलायनलाई एउटा विकल्पको रुपमा कल्पना गरेको थिएँ, त्यसलाई यथार्थमा बदल्ने आँट गरिनँ, त्यो बेग्लै कुरा हो । त्यसबेला लाग्थ्योः मेरा समग्र दुखहरुको कारण मेरो वरपरको वातावरण हो, यसबाट साहसपूर्वक बाहिरिएँ भने नयाँ दुख आउलान् तर तत्क्षणका दुरुह दुखहरु गायब भएर जानेछन् । कति गलत थिएँ म !

Why I write...

I do not know why I often tend to view people rather grimly: they usually are not as benevolent, well-intentioned and capable or strong as they appear to be. This assumption is founded on my own self-assessment, though I don’t have a clue as to whether it is justifiable to generalize an observation made in one individual. This being the fact, my views of writers as ‘capable’ people are not that encouraging: I tend to see them as people who intend to create really great and world-changing writings but most of the times end up producing parochial pieces. Also, given the fact that the society where we grow and learn is full of dishonesty, treachery, deceit and above else, mundanity, it is rather unrealistic to expect an entirely reinvigorating work of writing from every other person who scribbles words in paper.

On life's challenges

Somebody has said: “I was born intelligent but education ruined me”. I was born a mere child, as everyone is, and grew up as an ordinary teenager eventually landing up in youth and then adulthood. The extent to which formal education helped me to learn about the world may be debatable but it definitely did not ruin me. There were, however, things that nearly ruined me. There came moments when I contemplated some difficult choices. And there came and passed periods when I underwent through an apparently everlasting spell of agony. There came bends in life from which it was very tempting to move straight ahead instead of following the zigzag course.

Twenty-eight years of solitude

Some reflections on life

BP Koirala starts his Atma Brittanta with a peculiar statement that yet it was not time for him to write about himself. Of course, that is his greatness and great people are always more simple, straightforward and as BP himself says, emotional. That book is at par with Nehru's autobiographical works, particularly with respect to portraying the society and political upheavals of that time. Unfortunately, BP Koirala passed away too early and we are now deprived of more illustrious books in Nepali history.

The point now is, should I shun writing about myself citing BP's explanation; given that I am one of the thousands of self-advertizing people of our era and have done little to nil for larger society? This has always been the question before me whenever I sit down to write about myself. Should I burden the readers with my boring words about a parochial past that interests very few? Am I writing something really meaningful or am just writing for writing's sake? If I have sorrow, frustration and unfulfilled yearning in my life, should I share that with others who do not necessarily share parallel realities in life? If I have a miniature happiness every now and then, is that worth sharing with others? And finally, do my writings have any meaning in the longer term; say for the generation to come?

To me, every person beyond a certain level is a secluded entity. One may elaborate and express oneself to whatever lengths and depths but, at the end, there remains something that cannot be shared or expressed. Sometimes that seclusion becomes a prison, especially when one is going through tough times, and the person suffers. Other times, that becomes like the imagined world of paradise when the virtues of success and liberty abound in one's life. But the latter is a very infrequent happening in my experience. Over all, the secluded and solitary self of a person is a place where one is pretty vulnerable to recurrent to persistent bouts of ill-being.

Some of the geniuses of our times have adapted to that omnipresent solitude in a productive way. That way the seclusion results in a productive life. But even to them, sometimes it becomes unbearable and the whole episode ends in a tragedy; the monumental example being the tragic suicide of Bhairav Nath Aryal, the legendary satirist of Nepali literature. The tragic end of Michael Jackson's life could be another example when success, fame and money cannot even scratch the melancholy that tends to boil inside a person.

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अपूर्व रमाइलो एउटा तिहार

औंशी हिजै थियो तर अन्धकार आज पनि उत्तिकै थियो । ब्यारेकमा आज महिनौंपछि पहिलो पटक स्यालको रक्सी आइपुगेको थियो । बाहिरबाटै झिकाएको मृगको सुकुटीसित त्यो रक्सी खाएर मेजर रणसिंह शमशेर जबरा सुतेको थियो तर निद्रा आउने नामै लिइरहेको थिएन । मरेको भतिजको अनुहार झल्झली आइरहेको थियो । साथमा ऊ मारिएपछि घर जाँदा आफन ो खुट्टामा छाँद हालेर रोएकी उसकी युवती विधवाको अनुहारले पिछा छोड्नै मानिरहेको थिएन ।

मेजरले कोल्टे फेर्यो । घोप्टो पर्यो । तर कुनै तरिकाबाट निदा आएन । ऊ जस्तोसुकै भयानक युद्धको बीचमा पनि आफ्नो अन्तस्करणलाई डग्न नदिने मान्छे आज भने भित्रभित्रै काँपिरहेको थियो । आक्रोश, क्षोभ, पश्चात्ताप, बदलाभाव आदिले एकैचोटि उसको मथिंगल खल्बलाइदिएका थिए ।

भोलिपल्ट भाइ टिकाको दिन थियो । अघिल्ला वर्षमा झैै यसपालि पनि दशैं तिहारका लागि गरिएको युद्धविराम कायम थियो र देशभरका सैनिक र प्रहरीहरु विरल चैनको निद्रा सुतिरहेका थिए । तर मेजर जबराका लागि भने अघिल्लो सालदेखि हरेक तिहार अभिषाप भएर आउने गरेका थिए । देश युद्धमा फसिसकेपछि सबैले विरोध गर्दा गर्दै पनि उसले एक मात्र भतिजलाई सैनिकमा भर्ना हुन चार वर्ष अघि आश्वस्त पारेको थियो । तर अघिल्लो वर्षको तिहार मनाएर घरबाट फर्कंदै गर्दा उसलाई विद्रोहीहरुले आक्रमण गरेर निर्ममतापुर्वक मारेका थिए ।

भाग्यले भनौं वा दुर्भाग्यले, केही दिन अघि मात्र तिहारकै मुखमा कताबाट हुत्तिएर एउटी दुश्मन फौजकी केटी यो ब्यारेकमा आइलागेकी थिई । सादा पोशाकका मानिसले महिनौ.अघि पक्रेकी भनिएकी यो केटी खै कुन काकतालीले हो यो ब्यारेकमा तिहारको मुखमै पुगेकी थिई । देख्नासाथ मेजर जबराको रगत उम्लेर आएको थियो तर खै किन हो त्यसको भााग्य फैसला गर्न हिच्किचाएको थियो र त्यसको भाग्य के हुने हो कसैले अनुमान लगाउन सकेका थिएनन् ।

खै कुन घडीमा हो मेजरलाई निद्रा लागेछ । बिहान ब्युँझँदा छर्लंग उज्यालो भएको थियो । हिउँदको घामका कलिला किरणहरु जताततै पोखिइरहेका थिए । दिन साविकभन्दा बढी उज्यालो लागिरहेको थियो । ओसेपमा अझै पनि शीत चुहिरहेको थियो तर पारीपट्टि दक्षिण फर्केको पाखामा खरको शीत सुकिसकेको थियो । गोरेटोको छेउमा लगाएका केतुकीका पातहरु टल्किरहेका थिए । वर्षाभरि घाँस काटेपछि खरबारीमा छाडिएका गाइबस्तुहरु चर्न बाटोबाट झरिरहेका थिए ।

k"/f syf k9\g'xf];\

The Stagnant River

It was a not-so-cold day of early December on the southern plain of Terai. The fog had just started descending to the land from the sky but the cold proper was yet to grip the population majority of which lacked the adequate clothes to tolerate it. The day was thus warm and pleasant from the morning. The river which had a dam built downwards was in slow motion as if to share the calm of the surrounding. The small bubbles and other tiny particles of debris were floating glittering bright with the rays of light that fell on them at acute angle. The warm yet cool rays of light traveled in bands between the Sisau trees that lined the eastern bank of the river. The images of the trees in the water seemed to touch the blue sky at the bottom of the river.

A crow flew across the river to sit on a branch of a tree on the other side as few others were heard crowing at distance interrupting the calm of the morning. The distant rumbling of the speeding vehicles with their blazing horns reminded what a rush was there in the real life in the city. A cartoon like sketch of a human being lay there in front of Ramesh, carved in a block of concrete probably meant for keeping the belongings of the deceased before they were cremated in the adjoining cemetery. The sketch looked pretty distorted despite the utmost effort of the artist to make it look like a human being; this is probably why so few among the people are successful artists.

The 'Ghat' or the cemetery bore a deserted look as the morning sun made it look perfectly tranquil. The partially burnt wooden logs scattered beside the river made it clear at least one corpse was cremated in past few days. A piece of cloth was seen revolving along a small circle in the water close to this bank. Ramesh was suddenly filled with sympathy for those who died planning throughout their life and failing to implement even a single of them. Even those who died after aging adequately kept planning for years, let alone the unlucky ones who are forced to leave this world earlier. This gloomy reality reminded him of the desperation with which he had exited his room to take refuge of this cemetery in the early morning; quite unusual by any standards. The tranquility in this remote corner of human dwelling had almost made him forget the sorrow that was there in his personal life. 'How can an unfortunate creature like me afford such pleasant moments?' he ruminated as often.

The sun was now closer and warmth was growing. And this warmth in winter was an uncommon commodity in this section of earth where the fog ruled almost the whole of the winter. The shadows of the trees were now shorter and the floating particles in the river seemed to travel faster. More crows were now flying tree-to-tree and the chirpings were of more variety. The dew drops on the leaves of grasses began to vanish though the leaves in the shadows of trees were still wet.

Suddenly a beggar appeared as if from nowhere. He was probably of Ramesh's own age but looked much older with the wrinkles gifted by poverty all over the face. He wore a dirty grey shirt that was probably white when new with a pair of pants that most have been black when they were bought by some benefactor. He had a long face with untidy beards looking longer than they actually were by the emaciation that made the facial bones protrude. He was also wearing a rusted thin jacket that was unable to cover the front part of his trunk as there was no working zipper. As he came nearby, it turned out that he was not a beggar instead did the precious job of scavenging the useful things out of the waste: there was a huge sac made by sewing many pieces at his back that contained the plastic bags, papers and many other materials collected from the heaps of the waste. He walked stooped burdened by the weight of the luggage and was apparently moving to other location from the city and had taken the unusual short-cut through the cemetery.

"He is probably more unfortunate than me," Ramesh guessed and hoped to get some solace by talking with him. He politely invited this prematurely aged man to seat beside him. The man hesitated at first but eventually obliged as probably this was his time to take some rest even otherwise. After making little formal talking, he began a query about the past of this strange man. This scavenger was probably having difficulty speaking with a gentleman and was frequently looking for excuses to leave. Ramesh was able to coax him into telling part of the story. He was from a family of relatively good fortune until a terrible disaster befell on them erasing all those fortunes, but he was apparently unable to explain what exactly the disaster was.

Commentary

2073/3/17, 1 July 2016

Int'l/Turkey

The chicken come home to roost. The disastrous bombing of Istanbul airport add a bloody chapter in Turkey's relationship with extremism. Personally, I was relieved that Erdogan desisted from blaming the Kurds straight away for the carnage. Erdogan's authoritarian bent was already too much for the Turks, now the added burdens of worsening IS attacks and bloody conflict with the Kurds is going to push them to the edge of the cliff. My sympathies.

Nepal/Media:

Annapurna Post decided to jump the Lokman ship in time so that the sycophancy and mock journalism will pay suitably. With the convenient scapegoat--a lady so ambitious she is ready to discard integrity for a petty 'gain'--ready to do the trick, it has started the campaign to belittle Dr. KC. How miserably they'll fail, only time will tell.

2073/3/16, 30 June 2016

Movie:

One daily's review that 'Lukamari' was a 'mediocre' movie had held me back from watching it earlier. After a personal recommendation, decided to watch and did so yesterday. It is not as finely made as 'Tulke' or 'Kabaddi' but is much better than the average mainstream Nepali movie. Hugely entertaining. Sadly, Nawazuddin Siddiqui's 'Raman Raghav 2.0' has left the halls before I could watch it.

2073/3/8, 22 June 2016

Nepal:

The heartrending cries of the relatives of those killed in Kabul attack have left the TIA gloomy. A stark reminder of the price a country like Nepal--with negligible stakes in geopolitics of Afghan war--has to pay inadvertently for the economy-saving remittances.

India:

1) The announcement by Raghuram Rajan, the governor of RBI, to leave the job at end of the current tenure months from now, raises fears of the potential triumph for unscrupulous business tycoons in India. Tinge of apprehension at home and abroad accompanies a sense of jubilation at Subramaniam Swamy camp. For me, he'll remain an exceptionally clear-headed intellectual.

2) Things may not be as dramatic as depicted in 'Udta Punjab' but India is in a race against time on 3 fronts: droughts and related problems, skewed sex ratio leading to demographic distortion and drugs. Pessimism should not overwhelm us, though.

Venezuela:

Food riots reminiscent of medieval times. Ethiopia, once the poorest in the world, has fended off the past year's huge drought much much better averting a famine while Venezuela, sitting atop the world's largest oil reserves, has nearly 90% of its citizens now without enough money for food. Stark reminder of the human folly at play. Wonder what Hugo Chavez would have done to avoid this abyss if cancer had spared him.

Personal:

Enthused by a better-than-expected response for my Thorong-La travelogue, plan to write couple of similar pieces on same journey soon. The comprehensive essay will go for a book that I plan to write some day though! (Don't believe it fully though) Also expect a piece on 'Nakkali docotors' soon.

South Asia and Beyond

Pages

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Editorial: Happy reading and writing

The grapes

From innocence to despair and readjustment, life in its all shades

भुइँचालो

कथा

अभय श्रेष्ठ

Lowest in life: A case study of three Afghan women

भोक

People's History of Gaza and Egypt: The Bond Cannot Be Broken

The Myth of the U.N. Creation of Israel

Hotel Myanmar or the Unfolding Genocide in President Thein Sein's Myanmar

By Maung Zarni

Axiata’s choice: a ‘clean’ Ncell or a ‘tainted’ Ncell that purportedly cheated Rs 1150 for every Nepali citizen

एनसेल, ब्राण्ड-बिल्डिंग र कर छली

विजय कुमारको खुशी पढेपछि

एमालेकरणको बहस

एमालेकरण र समृद्ध नेपालको भ्रुणहत्या

एमालेकरण र समृद्ध नेपालको भ्रुणहत्या

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