Red Nepal

Here is what I feel are the seven wonders of New Nepal.

1). Martyrs -

Probably, we enter the Guinness Book of World Records with this historic achievement. Gone are the days when we would bow to the statues of only four martyrs in Sahid Gate, Martyr's Memorial. One has to keep in mind that it's a feudalistic attitude, we now have moved on to the rule of the "people". From now, almost every Nepali, who dies, will be declared a martyr. Also, gone will be the days in the near future when people would be amazed at hearing that Nepal had more gods than people, for it the gods would be replaced by martyrs, who will be more than the number of people alive.

2). Return to Innocence -

We also return back to innocence with the historic declaration of  12 hours of electricity outage per day, at least for now. Soon, we will have more hours to live without electricity and hence we will get to enjoy nature in its profound glory, and give up using all these electrical appliances that have made us live lives that our ancestors hadn't. We return back to ourselves - we return back to innocence. ( Also this is the title of one of my favorite songs - Return to Innocence - by Enigma.)

3). Revolutions -

Probably, we also have the largest number of "revolutions" that are going on in every part of our country after the historic "revolution" that the Maoists carried out successfully. We also have revolting gangs like "Madhesi Virus Killers" who revolt against the viruses that have been generally known to be harmful to mankind. We had a revolution against the dogmas of religion, especially Hinduism, so we declared our nation to be a secular one. We've made a further revolution by appointing a Nepali priest as the head priest of Pashupatinath, and removing the Indians, who had been assigned this task from time immemorial (at least for me). This was a revolution against the domineering attitude of India. Our culture Minister, Gopal Kirati, also bolstered the spirit of the revolution, when he said that he would not obey the "regressionist" orders of the Supreme Court. This was a revolution against the corrupt judiciary that has plagued our countrymen with grief, and nothing more. Also there are revolutions against the media, the army and about almost everything.

4). Security -

We also must have the largest number of security personnel per capita. The state run police, armed police, and the army had been there for our security from the times of the feudal monarchs. Now, we also have an adequate number of Maoists Commandos, YCL Comrades and Youth Force Comrades, who are sponsored by the government. They are the FBI of our country who are at most times more powerful than the vestiges of monarchy - the police and the Nepal Army. We also have security officers like Matrika Yadav, who vehemently fight for the landless by snatching away land from the "feudals" and distributing them to the "people" of our country.

5). Strikes / Bandhs -

Too many strikes. I just won't write about it. Sometimes the number of strikes reaches two digits in a single day. We had 132 strikes during December, 2008. Check this out, and see more for yourself.

If you can suggest something, please do it here! I still need two more things to add to this list of seven wonders of New Nepal.

The exodus of youth is certainly an issue that cannot be shrugged off as something trivial. It has been said and well-proven that the youth is the driving force of any community, country or a system. Youth is the force of change. This makes even more sense at trying times such as the one we are faced today in Nepal. This transformation of the country calls for a larger involvement of the youth in the formulation of its new policies and in the grooming of a new system. It calls for a unified sense of nationalism from people of all age groups, social classes, religion and backgrounds. However, with the facts thrown at us about the exodus of its youth, it can be argued that Nepal is losing what could be a very necessary element indispensable to its development.

The field of academia in the US and the avenues of opportunities that it opens up for the young are very lucrative. And that is where exactly the danger is. As much as the young generation who comes here wants to go back to Nepal eventually and do something for it, there is an equal chance that they would get trapped in a black hole of job security, freedom and a decent lifestyle. It is equally likely that the generation feels overqualified to go back. These obvious points aside, another danger as a result of migration is long-distance nationalism. A young population segregated from the banalities of its native country, the problems it is going through and its changes, also remains distant from the important feeling of true nationalism.

It can be said with confidence that most of the youth who have come to the US for higher education feel very highly of their country. Hence, the consequential problem with brain drain is not so much the youth’s suspected lack of concern for their country as it is the danger of long-distance nationalism. I myself have stayed here in the US for four years now in the pursuit of an advanced degree in engineering. My commitment towards Nepal over these four years has not waned one bit. However, at times, I do feel that the prospect of me going back with this expertise and actually being able to use it for the betterment of the country is bleak. That has led me to be satisfied with what I can do to my country from a distance and, accordingly, I have made myself resort to long-distance nationalism. I care a lot about my country. I take part in political discussions here in the US, I read about the politics and the economy, the lifestyle and the sports. However, I know what I am doing, at best, is borrowing information from an indirect source. I hear and examine things remotely. I do not SEE things. I do not get opportunities to DO things that directly impact my country. It just never feels as fresh as doing all the things firsthand by being physically THERE.

One of my biggest grievances of being abroad is that I could not vote in the historical elections last year. Along with me, a horde of young minds abroad, who are supposed to be the representatives of the country’s future, missed it too. I sometimes try to convince myself that with the increasing trend of globalization, nationality has redefined itself too – that one can still be a part of the nation from a distance. However, with things like the election, I have time and again failed to feel the way I would have if I were back in my country. It is just not the same. Part of the reason why I am writing this article is my own subconscious guilt about not being able to be there when my country most needs me or not being able to escape this repressing constraint imposed by long-distance nationalism. It is also one of my inner fears that with increasing dependency on a made-up nationalism, I might someday mix up my identity between who I am now and who I was earlier and develop overly ambitious dreams or sometimes undeniably unrealistic judgments about the country – dreams and judgments devoid of the actual truth that underlines the country.

The bigger picture that needs to be understood here is that abstracted nationalism rarely juxtaposes with basic reality and the needs of a country. Long-distance nationalists tend to be, more often than not, nostalgic of the times that prevailed when they were back in their country and hence can become very resistant to change. They could be opposed to favoring what could now be essential political compromises or cultural overhauls demanded and needed by the times in the country. From the safety of their exile, these people can often come to unrealistic and unfavorable conclusions and decisions about their countries.

This becomes a bigger problem when this group happens to be the youth – the building blocks of the nation. During an important time of a historical political and cultural metamorphosis, we need all the youth power to stabilize the country and steer it to a new direction. We need the youth to have a firsthand sense of nationalism devoid of any long-distance romanticism for the country. We need the youth to work on the problems at site and not just decry them from a distance. A draining young population certainly does not help the case. This increasing trend of migration may not yet seem malignant to the future of the country but clearly poses certain questions. Should we motivate the young generation to stay in the country? Do we have enough resources to make the youth turn their backs towards foreign prospects? Have we done enough to think about this as an ensuing problem? Until all these questions are fully addressed, the young population will keep seeking shelter outside of the country; brains will keep draining into lands of opportunities and the inevitable frontier of distant nationalism will keep strengthening itself.

Nepal is a PhD student of Electrical Engineering at Brown University

Originally published here.

by Bijaya Babu Shiwakoti

Maoist ideologue Dr Baburam Bhattarai, on the eve of the People’s Movement of 2006, had argued through an article in a national daily that any movement should have a specific goal and an action plan to achieve that goal. He was hinting at the lack of a specific goal and preparation on the part of the then mainstream parties and the impact it would have on the protest program. Three years down the line, the Maoists are now in the political mainstream and are trying to use peaceful means for their protest program. But it is quite clear that the Maoists do not have a specific objective for their protest program.

The protest program the mainstream parties were launching before the People’s Movement was ritualistic. They used to gather several thousands of their cadres and make rounds in the city center. They used to throw stones at police and shake hands with them in the evening promising to meet for the next round the other day. Fast forward from then to now, the Maoists are now performing ritual protests similar to that one. They are now singing and dancing during their protest program and it seems that the cadre level is not overly enthusiastic about the ongoing program as they used to be in the previous ones.

It seems that the Maoists are under tremendous pressure from many quarters regarding this agitation. The Indians and the 22-party coalition want them to call off their strikes. The pressure from the Indians is probably a little too much for the Maoists to be able to withstand. The Maoists know that the Indian security campaign against the Naxalites and the possible association of the Naxalites with the Nepali Maoists as suggested by the Indian establishment and its repercussions might be damaging for them.

The Maoists who wanted to play China against India probably got the message that the Chinese are not interested in that game – they have their own considerations, although not always harmonious, in relation with India. The Western powers do not want to go against the wishes of the Indians vis-à-vis the Maoists. So, it is not a surprise that if the Maoists are given an option to save their face, they will end their protests and be a part of some sort of power structure – with or without them being on top of the power structure.

Whatever happens to the Maoists is not of much importance to the nation. The Maoists have shown brinkmanship during the time they led the government. All they want is power, whatever the cost. Whatever may be their rhetoric about ‘civilian supremacy’, ‘imperialism’ and ‘expansionism’, they are just interested in state power even if that means taking orders from the ‘imperialists’ and the ‘expansionists’.

All said, the Maoists’ protest program are damaging to the nation and it is high time that all concerned in this political impasse take a handful of country’s soil and think about the country and its people, as BP Koirala used to prescribe to address any dilemma facing the country. The parties should refrain from political one-upmanship and chalk out a solution that is sustainable at least until the time the constitution is written.

Originally published here.

Rajendra Thakurathi

A country infected by years of repression of communism and a crumbled democracy after losing two “world wars” in the span of 25 years. A wall as long as 100 miles, its only purpose to prevent the exodus of the skilled people from the east side to the west side at the sake of their freedom. How long could the wall stand robust?

This 11/9 (not 9/11) represents the 20th anniversary of that shiny day in history that culminated the long-awaited hope of Germans to bring down the wall. No longer was there an East and West Germany, and Berliners from both sides were reunited. On Nov. 9, 1989, hours before midnight, the mob on the east side stormed the border crossing called “Checkpoint Charlie” in Berlin, yelling out to the border guards: “Open up.” The crowd on the West answered “Come over, come over!” The gates eventually swung open, and many German clambered atop the Berlin Wall and yelled “Die Mauer ist Weg!” (the Wall is gone).

For 28 years, the wall built by the Eastern Communistic Germany prevented people from crossing the border between East and West Berlin. Tanks and uniformed soldiers guarded the border. Soldiers were given orders to shoot those spotted crossing the border. While the Western Allied Powers (the U.S., Great Britain and France) occupied West Germany in the cloak of democracy, the trampled East was ruled by fanatic advocates of communism. People’s voices were unheard, and East Germans were banned to travel beyond the Iron Curtain, a physical and ideological boundary that kept Europe divided from the end of World War II to the end of the Cold War. Those longing to escape to the West tried going from neighboring Hungary or Czechoslovakia and from there over the mountains to West Germany. One-hundred-ninety two people lost their lives while trying to escape to the West between 1961 and 1989.

Germany had been locked behind the Iron Curtain since the early 1960s. One of the hardest-hit areas in Europe, Germany had both the threat of a second Great Depression and, on the other, the rise of communism. The Western Allies’ Marshall Plan was committed to rebuild Europe as soon as possible, but Communist Soviet Union had other intentions in mind. The barbed wires that merely shone as the demarcation of the East and the West were changed into huge concrete walls overnight while the Berliners were sleeping in 1961. East Berliners found themselves as prisoners in their own country. The border was sealed and the makeshift barbed-wire barrier was transformed into the Berlin Wall. Walter Ulbricht, the communist party leader, thought it was the solution to losing skilled people from the East to the West. Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev, who had wooed new Third World states to embrace communism and spoke to recognizing the two German states, stood up and ordered Bauen Sie die Mauer, “Build the wall!” Death Strip, a no-man’s land was soon created.

The demarcation not just divided the Berliners and the Germans, but also aggravated Cold War tensions. At one point, world leaders feared a nuclear war. The 1963 Berlin speech of U.S. President John F. Kennedy fell on deaf ears. But in 1987, President Reagen’s call to “Bring down this wall!” prompted Soviet Union Prime Minister Mikael Gorbachev to show signs of willingness to tear down the wall. Then on Nov. 9, 1989, the Checkpoint Charlie border guards shrugged and threw open the gates on that freezing night.

Today, no line remains to show the border. Where the barbed wires, watchtowers and the wall showed their grim faces, the skyscrapers smile at the sky to tell about the glorious years Germany has come to. At present, just two kilometers of the wall remain of the 43 kilometers that once ran through the center of Berlin. However, the people who saw the wall fall often will sing “Wind of Change” — just as they sang for the world 20 years ago. Freiheit!

Rajendra believes a wind of change comes every now and often.

by Sanjit Pradhananga

If a Hindu priest bore witness to how the Nepalese Diaspora celebrated this year’s Dashain festivities, he would be aghast to say the least. We’d congregated at a Chapel under one skinny foreigner nailed to a cross, while another blessed us by evoking the Gods of our forefathers. To be honest, I don’t even know if the prayer we sent out to heavens that day was accurate, for it was in a tongue I’ve long forgotten. But surely the all-loving G will absolve the audacity of a people, self-exiled from their traditions, trying to cling on to whatever little they remember. Surely the all-compassionate G will empathize with the end, if not our means. I have been told that She holds the ones who’ve been lost, closest to her breast.

I confess I’ve been lost for a while. For four years I have scoured through empty isles in the library, climbed jagged bluffs by the Mississippi, wandered lonely on mirthless nights through virgin snow, lamenting all that has slipped from my memory. It happened very suddenly, I remember. One July, I had swum in the Atlantic during a storm, thinking of my mother’s soft hands. In my mind, I could see it, the texture, the scar, the yellow turmeric tan. But I’d forgotten how it smelt. It was completely gone. I hurried out of the choppy waters, with a tempest stirring within my head. Gone! That first smell, I learned to recognize. That odor of selfless love, that’s a tantalizing mix of curry and lavender. All Gone.

It has been all downhill since then.
Phone numbers, places, voices then faces.
All lost.
Uncle Sam taketh a lot of things.
Uncle Sam taketh my money, my youth, my sweat, my dreams and my innocence.

But Uncle Sam also hoodwinked a veil I had over my eyes, all the years I’d lived in Nepal. So many things were taken for granted back then, the odors, the voices, the faces, the traditions. Dashain, which we try now so desperately to recreate, was a big nuisance to me while growing up. The family gatherings were long and painful, the blessings were phony, and the animal sacrifices inhumane and illogical.

I like to think of my self-exile as a big storm that has blown away all my dying leaves. Now in this winter of discontent, I see the tree that gave life to me for what it really is. I see the sturdy branches of tradition I’d nested in. I see my roots, strong, interwoven and grounded solid. I don’t take anything for granted anymore.

Everything I go through takes me past these rain drenched streets, to back home where my heart lies. I see big cars zooming by and miss those noisy streets back home, the horns, the commotion, and those cows that wandered into the streets. I see nice houses and lavish lawns and remember those huts, those slums where people lived in utter poverty but love. I hear church bells toll and remember those frantic chimes of temple bells, the elderly worshiping at dawn, their purity which I(until now) had always scorned and questioned. I walk into the ARC and find my self back to my high school library, but a couple of isolated racks holding Nepali literature books (that I never bothered venturing into) are gone. Yet my eyes still search for that isolated corner. The prosperity that seethes through everything here, resounds with the echo of the woes my ailing nation. The cry of a mother land whose sons and daughters choose to abandon her in their yearning for prosperity.Being an alien, reminds me of the profoundness of my own culture. It is funny that I had to travel half way around the world into a foreign land to realize it. My family often jokes about how I’ve become an American, how my accent has changed, how I don’t remember phone numbers, and names, and places. I listen and smile, because they get a great kick out of it. But if they only knew! The irony.

For I have transitioned not into an American but more into a Nepali.
“Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.” –
J.J.


Sanjit is a gadfly. He runs the The Gadfly Rises. Click here.