Life Choices For Kathmanduites Be Like...

Life choices for Kathmanduites be like:

Dhulo ki Hilo?
Inverter ki Solar?
Gyanendra ki Prachanda?
India ki China?
Traffic jam ki Banda?
Mahango taxi ki jyaan jaane micro?
Eta kaath ko ghar ki bahira gayera kaath ko baakas?
Ghar basera motaune ki bahira jogging garera rugaa khoki le grasta hune?
Dhamala ko hamala ki Suman Sanga?
Pahad ki Madhes?
Thamel ki Jhamel?
Jar ko mahango paani ki Inar ko pahelo pani?
Bhuichaalo ki Nakabandi?
... 

You'll Never Walk Alone - My Liverpool Story

It was during my MBA days that my rubber-faced friend Chhitiz (he actually could make faces like Jim Carrey) introduced me to English Football and the Premier League. Then I didn't even know that Barclays was a Bank. DAMN.
He followed Arsenal and I too started following it a bit here and there. But honestly I didn't have the patience to watch a match late into the night and wake up early in the morning just to argue with a rival fan. Sleep was much much dearer then. But fate it was and I got to work for Carlsberg in Nepal. I was the brand guy and by default the promotional activities were a big chunk of the work. It was stressful sometimes and it was interesting. Carlsberg, though I've always been a loyal Tuborg guy, fascinated me because of it's international image and the things that came along with it. The international promotional plans, the international strategies, and then INTERNATIONAL FOOTBALL. Yes we had separated international and national football for Carlsberg and San Miguel respectively. And lucky me got to get a chance to promote the legendary club LIVERPOOL in Nepal.
First hurdle was to understand how the league functioned. The points system, home and away system, transfer window, bidding of players, their salaries, managers, and even the daylight savings. I've personally got a grudge with Daylight savings because once we were supposed to promote an activity in television through a scroll ad and it didn't appear in time because of the time difference due to daylight savings. The scroll appeared only in the 70th minute. Got a good scolding from my boss the next day and I had to research about fucking daylight saving. Though I still don't understand it properly, I found a shortcut. An online time converter. Voila.
So getting back to football or rather Liverpool promotion, it was getting interesting by the day but stressful as well. I had to keep track of matches among which I had to select some top rated matches against some top clubs. We were promoting live match events, placing branding materials around Adidas showrooms and distributing jerseys to lucky draw winners at bars etc.

Then came the big promotion. The "The Football Trip of a Lifetime" promotion where a lucky draw winner could actually get a chance to go to Anfield, watch a live game sitting at the VIP seat with Carlsberg served, and then finally give the Carlsberg Man of the Match to the best player of the day. DAMN.
The promotion ran for a few months and then the day came for the lucky draw. A winner was picked. His name was Mr. Yugesh Bade Shrestha, presently the CEO of Prabhu Insurance. Then he was a senior person at Alliance Insurance. Now the story onwards makes me believe in FATE. Mr. Shrestha was already a Liverpool fan and a hardcore Carlsberg loyal. He happened to be drinking a bottle at a bar and he got his coupon there. And because of his profile, there was no hassle in getting a visa. The matchday came. It was Liverpool vs Tottenham (I remember vividly because of the daylight saving blunder). Liverpool beat the shit out of Tottenham with 3-0. I was wondering if only Liverpool had lost that match, what would happen to my promotion? And then the next day I went to office very satisfied and happy. My boss called me up to his table and showed me a pic. He asked me to identify the person standing with Mr. Yugesh Bade Shrestha. I actually couldn't recognize but said it looked like STEVEN GERRARD. I didn't recognize because I didn't actually believe it. Then he told me that it actually was SG8 because he was the Carlsberg Man of the Match the other day.
I just had that melancholy feeling along with a feeling of happiness somewhere. The animal instinct actually was jealous and sad that it was Mr. Shrestha standing beside SG8 and not me.

But then I got over it in a while and came back to my senses.

Then on, the publicity we did for that was massive with pictures and press releases everywhere. Mr. Shrestha was popular overnight. And in due course, Liverpool had also gained some fan following. It was a HUGE success.
And then what was left behind was me. So what I gained apart from experience, running a campaign successfully and salary was I started following EPL and became a hardcore fan of Liverpool and most importantly Steven Gerrard.
And the day came when I left Carlsberg to pursue my career elsewhere. I was lucky enough to receive not one but two genuine Liverpool jerseys gifted by my two dear colleagues at GB. One by Nirvik, sadly a hardcore Chelsea fan and Punam, who's not actually a football fan. And the recent scarf brought by my friend Rojan all the way from Anfield is a precious addition.
I still cherish those jerseys with Carlsberg written on the front and the scarf.
So that's my Liverpool story and Stevie retiring made me write it. And I've always been proud of the fact that I was one of the first persons in Nepal to start promote Liverpool.
You'll Never Walk Alone...

Picture: Mr. Yugesh Bade Shrestha presenting the Carlsberg Man of the Match to Steven Gerrard. (The picture that actually stunned me)

Nepalese Solar System

NO. It's not about the astrological science that I'm writing about now. It's about the solar system. No, what I'm trying to say is the astological SOLAR SYSTEM is completely different from what SOLAR SYSTEM means here in Kathmandu. Yes that's what I'm trying to say. And that's what my 7 year old cousin brother proved it was.
He studies in St. Xaviers, Jawalakhel and I've always found it to be one of the best institutions in terms of maintaining balance among the students. Balance of everything. So one fine day my cousin comes back home and starts to complete his assignment of drawing a SOLAR SYSTEM. And as you can see the picture above is what he drew. My nini (aunt) posted this on our family Viber network and we all had a good laugh. Some even jokingly commented saying the school fee needs to be refunded. But then I realized that it's not the fees that should be refunded. The teacher knew exactly what s/he was asking and the student exactly knew what he knew. Just that there was a huge gap between the  knowledge of the teacher and the knowledge of my cousin. The teacher grew up never seeing a SOLAR PANEL on top of his house until now, and my cousin grew up seeing the SOLAR PANEL on top of his home before he even knew that a different SOLAR SYSTEM existed beyond the borders of our planet EARTH.
And regarding the joke of having the fee refunded, I said instead of the fee we should ask for a refund from our politicians because it's because of their ignorance this situation has arose. A child is made to believe that that flat panel made up of some black material called silicon is the solar system. And I was actually not joking. I was and am serious about it.
Now what all are these politicians going to make believe the upcoming generation? I worry about my son and all of his age and below. Are they going to believe that door to door water supply or regular electricity or proper free education or good nutrition or indigenous products or sustainability or honesty or morality all are myth and nothing else? Are they going to grow with a very low acceptable standard of all the mentioned subjects? And finally are they going to grow up LESS HUMAN than we actually were?

Gully

As I walk up to Swoyambhu, I come across this scene and I find it beautiful. I'd already made up my mind to take some wonderful pictures that day because the weather was fantastic with a little chill in the air and bright sun with the clearest of visibility.

So on my way up I just saw this and sat down across it to take the best shot. Many people were crossing the same path, and seeing me with the camera, they would turn to their left and see what I was trying to capture. And to their disappointment, there was nothing but an empty gully. I could tell that they were expecting something more interesting to them like a pair of monkeys or a small monkey jumping around or eating something or the breathtaking view of the mountains. But as they realized that there was nothing amusing as such and just an empty space, they would give a smirk and move on. And I smiled back to myself. To some extent proud enough that I can see something what others can't. It kinda felt like having a superpower.

Though not that frequent, I guess that's one of the reasons that pushes me to keep clicking pictures.

Of Penises and Vaginas

I hate "feminists" and I hate "male chauvinists". Yes there are feminists who would protest about why I mentioned the word feminist before the male chauvinist. And that's why I'm writing about it here. To clear your minds. I'd say fogged and clogged minds, with serious misconceptions about the cliche term "GENDER EQUALITY". And I can see you even more angrier when I say that I don't believe in Gender Equality. Rather I believe in GENDER INEQUALITY.

Don't be furious and read on. Little knowledge is dangerous.

I believe in Gender Inequality because males and females and any other gender were created that ways. Different from each other. If males and females were the same then there wouldn't exist the very word GENDER. This concept enlightened upon me due to an instance. We're used to the concept of the toilet seat and the hue and cry about leaving it up or down. It's said that the gentlemen are supposed to leave the toilet seat down for the ladies. But then was when I questioned myself and the norm as to if it really made sense because are the ladies really incapable of putting down the toilet seat before they do their job? So is gender equality all about a mere toilet seat?

The only thing I'm trying to explain here is the concept of gender equality has taken a completely opposite turn through series of events and pseudo activists. I say it's actually the INEQUALITY between the sexes that has to be respected and treated accordingly. Reinforcing my statement that males, females and any other gender were naturally made different with different capabilities and incapabilities. I wouldn't appreciate a male who'd come and boast about trying to be pregnant for 9 months, though medically it is possible these days. But males weren't meant for that. I won't like a female who'll come and boast that they can carry the same amount of weight as any male, though some may be strong enough to do so. It's just the natural differences that separates us as males and females. And the beauty of this gender difference has helped to keep us attracted to each other (at least the majority) and reproduce to keep the human race going.

Instead, raise the issue of objectification of either of the sexes by the greedy corporate world. Raise the issue about the necessity for guys to be tall, dark and handsome or girls to be fair enough to survive in this world full of educated fools.

So the ladies can forget about the toilet seat, or expecting a seat while standing in a bus, or males opening doors for them, or a chair being pulled for her.

And for the males, don't crib about about having to do the dishes or cook at home equally along with the ladies of the house, or doing the diapers and milk bottles in the middle of the night.

If you really want to talk about anything related to GENDER, then talk about the differences. And to make things clear just talk about the biological differences. Rest all will be assured I assure.
Hence it all boils down to Penises and Vaginas, or both in some cases.

TIA - The Incompetent Airport

ओहो बल्ल घर पुगियो... (Wow, finally reached home). This is the thought among most of us when we land in Nepal after a trip anywhere else in the world. After all home is home. Same was with me. I was happy to be back home after a very enjoyable but tiring trip to Thailand with my wife.

Let me take you about 5 hours before landing at TIA. We entered the Suwarnabhoomi airport and almost 90% of the people there were Nepalese who were going back after a vacation in Thailand. They all had loads of bags after a hell lot of shopping. Obvious. And they were all so well disciplined. Saying sorry for small mistakes. Saying thank you for small helps.

So we all board the plane and after about 3 hours land at TIA. We check into the immigration, fill up the forms and start heading to the counter. My wife had to go to the restroom so was waiting for her and didn't care to stand in line till then. Suddenly within 5 minutes the line grew long and all the lines were jumbled up. Actually 5 planes from different destinations had landed simultaneously and there was a huge crowd and chaos at the immigration.

Then came a couple with an officer of the TIA and I could see that the husband was asking the officer to get their arrival formalities done sooner than the rest. The officer who could have been a friend or a relative of the guy diligently did so. That's when I intervened. I asked him as to whether it was ethical enough for the officer to entertain such requests, or was it ethical enough for the couple to ask for such a favor, or was it ethical enough for the lady at the counter to accept such a request by a fellow passenger and her colleague?

(This is the lady at the immigration who didn't even flinch while accepting the request. I made sure I told her in a loud enough voice that what she did was absolutely wrong).
The officer instead of backing out started offering me the same facility of having my immigration done along with his good friend. I obviously refused and asked him if that was how they treated our guests. Then he said that his friend and the couple who'd travelled along with us all the way from Bangkok had some kind of emergency. The couple was just behind me at the Bangkok check-in and they showed all the courtesy they could and stood in line throughout without any complaints. And suddenly when they arrive in Nepal they turn into the same old beings? I thought they'd come back with some level of education after travelling in a foreign land. Something positive to take back home. But no it was exactly opposite. And the sad part is that they were young and well educated couple. The wife I guess was even a popular model as I remember seeing her somewhere.

So that ended there and the couple without any guilt left the immigration counter. Then standing in line I turned back and saw two young guys. On asking they said they'd just come back from Malaysia. And I asked them when they were going back. To which they answered they're NEVER going back to Malaysia. And I asked why. To which they again replied that Nepalese workers there were treated like animals or even worse. So they swore that they were not going back to Malaysia at least. They told me they were coming back after 3 years. It just dawned upon me that the emergency of these two young people, who'd slogged their balls off in Malaysia with all the disrespect and exploitation, to meet their family members was more important.

Then I waited till I reached the counter for my turn. Suddenly at the very moment another officer from the immigration department came there and started counselling people and the literal words he spoke were, "धन्ना नमान्नुस, विदेशमा जस्तो ढिलो हुँदैन यहाँ" (Don't worry people, it won't take long as in foreign countries). Now everyone started laughing as this guy was telling it seriously.

I just called that asshole towards me and sarcastically said the delay was because his fellow colleagues were picking up their near and dear ones without respecting the people standing in line. He tried to justify by saying that that officer was not from the immigration section. But I just simply pointed out to the lady at the counter and said, "is she also not an officer of the immigration section?" He mumbled a bit and asked me to just take it lightly and go as his justification was "it happens sometimes". The only sad part is this sometimes happens everytime.

Well I made sure that I was loud enough for everyone to hear me and if possible act to it. The next destination was the luggage collection counter. The luggage had to go through an X-ray machine and the officers there were again asking everyone to put their belongings in their handbags. I refused as there was a stack of trays, just like in any other international airport and I asked for it. The officers refused to give me the tray. They said it was compulsory to put your belongings inside the bag. I said I won't because it's not compulsory. They again warned me that my stuffs could get lost inside the s-ray. I laughed and asked them if there was someone inside the x-ray machine. I took the tray and used it. Coming on the other side of the x-ray machine I realized why they were not letting people use the trays. They were just lazy enough to transport the tray back inside for reuse. That's it. And now you can imagine the mentality or the level of maturity of these people. I felt sorry for the families of these people because I was worried about what values were these people teaching them at home.

And yes now comes the interesting part. The couple who'd crossed the immigration half an hour before me were waiting just beside me at the luggage collection counter. And ironically my luggage came earlier and they were left waiting. I don't know what happened to their "Emergency" then.

The last thing I told him after a short argument there was, "people like you don't have the right to complain about our government".
Upon reaching home I also realized that a watch I'd bought had been STOLEN.
And hence I made it a point to raise my voice against it and write about it. Some people think I'm just complaining on social media. But social media is the best platform for general public like us to make ourselves heard. I've always considered Social Media to be PEOPLE'S MEDIA.

Note: The small video uploaded at the beginning of this write up is to show you about the situation at the airport which is an everyday affair but still our officials who live by our tax money, tend to ignore shamelessly. And also refer to my earlier blog about why we need a better airport.
http://mampaga.blogspot.com/2016/10/why-do-we-need-better-airport.html

Why do we need a better Airport ???

Ok. This thing has been a shit piece of discussion for ages now. And there have been people both for and not so against this voice.

Well and I'm not here to justify either of them. I'm just here to justify my point after my first true international travel to Thailand (not considering India and Bhutan).

I'm here to tell you WHY NEPAL NEEDS A BETTER AIRPORT.

1. No, it's not because it's our pride and that the people from abroad will have a bad first impression of our country when they land in Nepal and have to go through the bullshit at TIA.

2. No, it's not because it is a thing of beauty and again it gives an impression of the whole of nation and it's people.

3. No, it's not because we believe in "Atithi Deva Bhawa". I've seen that the more the tourism booms, the less they care about their tourists. Fuck "Atithi Deva Bhawa". Money comes first.

4. No, it's not because the tourists will not come back due to the bad service of our TIA and that it would hamper our tourism.

5. No, it's not because you will feel embarrassed in front of the people from abroad. That's the most selfish thing to think about.

Well the one and only one reason why there should be a BETTER AIRPORT is because PEOPLE JUST DESERVE GOOD SERVICE. It's just plain simple as that. You're travelling and it's just the normal convenience that people seek. It doesn't have to be an art gallery level of beautiful.

I was looking around the Suwarnabhoomi Airport, which has been highly regarded by every Nepali going there. And I was expecting something great. But all I could look at was a huge steel structure with lots of trusses and iron pillars and glass panes and that's that. The only piece of art that I saw was the structure of "Samudra Manthan" in the center of the duty free section.

Else everything was just plain beauty in itself and nothing more. And the beauty was that everything just functioned properly in its own right.

It wasn't very extraordinary. It just made travelling easier. And that's what I wanted or every traveler wants. Be it local or international.
Honestly, it's like having a good spouse. Not necessarily the prettiest one, not necessarily the most talented, not necessarily the best cook, not necessarily the best educated, not necessarily the best in bed, not necessarily the best in everything. Just plain simple GOOD.

So I really don't believe in people who give the above 5 or more reasons for having a better airport. I say even if this existing small one operates in the most effective way, we and everyone would be more than happy.
I guess everyone deserves that much at least, just like a good spouse.

No Daughter Please

I know what you're thinking. And I can read your mind. Yes I say no to a DAUGTHER.

Well the story goes like this. Today our whole family went to see off my cousin sister at the airport as she was leaving for the US of A as she recently married an NRN.

Till now I've been pestering my wife for a daughter after a son we've had. Though there is her medical problems on one side but there's this desperate want for a daughter on my side. Yes I can understand that you're actually thinking that what I'm writing is exactly opposite to the title of this blog.

Now people who know me should have already understood that there was something mysterious about the title. And for people who didn't know me till now... I don't have anything to say.

Yes I have always wanted and still want a daughter. To such an extent that sometimes I sideline my wife's medical condition. But I do come back to my senses. Sometimes I think about adopting one, and that's still on my mind.

But now you ask why the title. Well today I realized and thought about not having a daughter. My own or adopted. Because I realized that a daughter will somehow leave you one day and the pain will be excruciating, specially for a person like me who'd be so very much attached to her. Yes my son could also leave us. But I'm sure there is a difference. The difference between not being worried about someone leaving you and someone leaving you when you don't want her to.

I think I wouldn't want to be in the pain of my daughter leaving me after getting married to some guy. Yes that imaginary person will always be "some guy" to me. And I also realize that I'm writing this even when I'm not a father to a daughter, just by looking and trying to realize some other person's pain.

So today I declare to myself that I no longer want a daughter. My apologies will always be there to my son for not giving him a sibling but here I'm being a little too selfish.

Hope someday he'll grow up and read this and realize it. Or maybe he'll someday give me a beautiful granddaughter.

P,S, I hope you realize that it's nothing about male domination or it has nothing to do with gender equality or any of that shit.

दशैं आयो, माँगेर खायो...

Dasain, the biggest festival for almost all Nepalese people around the globe. Hence also known as BADA Dasain. The weather's perfect, the mood is just right, and everyone is rich, if not with money but at least in their hearts.

BUT. There is always a BUT. But the festival has always been a pain in the, you know where, for me. Why? Because I am surrounded by BEGGARS till the festival is over. Yes beggars who come well dressed, talk nice and seem almost ready to lick your balls.

Ok stop imagining because your mind is wandering somewhere else. These aren't the Sunny Leone types. These are the ugly bastards who've defamed this beautiful festival by making a begging bowl out of it. From event organizers, to government officials, to police, to local clubs, to newspaper delivery man and mostly the media.

"Dasain ko lagi kei chaina...?" is the most common sentence I and am sure many like me have to hear during this period. It's not about whether one can spend a bit and keep their bloody mouth shut. It's about how we as a society have developed into parasites who think it's their fundamental right to feed on someone else. And one thing I appreciate about them is that they've very finely developed the skill of making you feel guilty if you don't help them or scare the shit out of you in case you don't comply.

Sometimes I blame the international fraternity who've inculcated this habit among us at a macro level.

I'm sure there are many who'll agree to me when I say people take you for granted when it comes to getting things done for free. But that still is tolerable as long as you feel it's right.

But when it comes to forcing someone, I get pissed off. I even get pissed off when I see a Fire Engine Truck with the label "Donated by the Indian Government". Why? Can't we even afford to buy a fire engine? Can't we even build our own local roads? Can't we have simple solar lamps for our streets with our own money?

Have we really stopped feeling proud on our achievements? Has the country that prides in never having been colonized, now prides in getting as much for FREE as possible? Has it become a Nepalese culture to get everything for FREE?

I'm just honestly perplexed and wonder. And honestly I don't have an answer for that.

This small write up just ends here with this question for all to answer.

P.S. I've used an image that was provided for free without any copyright and the source is mentioned below, just in case someone thinks I'm a hypocrite.

Image Source: http://nepalicalendar.rat32.com/happy-dashain-2071-cards-wallpapers/

What's on Your Mind ???

What's on your mind? It's exactly what Facebook asks me everyday. And then I think, "Yes, What T F is on my mind today?" And then my fingers start twitching to type in that blank space. But something holds me back. Then again the question strikes back but now it asks me, "What REALLY is on my mind?". And that is when I filter out many thoughts that I think shouldn't be there.

So when I think of filling up that space, many a times I've been naive and very very ignorant and inconsiderate spewing out absolutely worthless crap. And the latest feature of facebook reminding you with what you did in the past has helped me understand that. Sometimes it's embarrassing.

So the question is what should be your Facebook status or any status on any social network?

Well I've tried to learn and improve with what I update on Facebook. I don't deny the fact that some impulsive posts still are naive and worthless. But now I've categorized what should be as follows:

1. It should be FUN.

And I'm not talking about fun for yourself only but fun for others as well. You can't just say I don't give a fuck about who thinks what of this. You're actually responsible, to a large extent, for his/her reaction because you're related socially through this virtual platform and you're both there for each other. If you think otherwise then just unfriend that person or move out of the social network space. And also you don't have the right to feel offended if that person unfriends you. So make it fun for yourself and other people as well. Personal stuffs are also fun sometimes. And sometimes even non-personal stuffs which you think is fun are absolutely annoying. Well your likes and comments should give you a clear idea of categorizing your content.

2. When not FUN, it should be INFORMATIVE

Let it be something that'll intrigue the readers. Give them something to think about. Give them something new that they've never known or thought of. Social media can be a wonderful platform to share knowledge. Being a lecturer, I read a lot of articles, journals, watch videos and share them, that most often leads to a discussion with my students who further read, watch and share them. I use this social platform to clarify a lot of myths many a times. So many people on social media are again foolish enough to read, believe and further share fake and unnecessary material. I try my best to aware these people about the authenticity of things shared over Facebook.

3. It's a great place to SELL

Yes, SELL. The world is going digital and why not marketing and selling your product digitally? I've realized it to be the best platform to market and sell your stuff. The mainstream media has become very expensive and its credibility and effectivity is highly questionable these days. And for young entrepreneurs and low-cost startups, there's no better place than the web to promote. So when Facebook asks you "What's on your mind" just answer back with "I've got my product on my mind". For a hundredth of the cost of mainstream media you can reach the actual customers you want. Sometimes it just happens for free. Depends on how creative you are.

4. Protest, Revolt, Change.

Social Media is the People's Media. And I've always believed in that. In a country like Nepal where most media are dishonest, biased and corrupt, social media can be used effectively to fight against the anarchic discrimination of mainstream media. Virality is the key. It's a place where you can complain to the Government, criticize yellow journalism, whitsle blow against the culprits, debate and make people aware in mass about it. Personally some of my own efforts have borne results and since then my trust in it has grown. Sometimes the pressure can build up to such an extent that the concerned authorities are compelled to act.

5. The SAND BAG

Last but not the least, it's a "Sand Bag". It's a great psychological let out sometimes. But please, limit it to only sometimes. Because again too much of your psychological let out is again no fun for other people, which takes us back to point number 1. The best thing is always having some real person to talk to but I can understand that there can be situations when you can't, and yes then comes this blank space where you write your heart out.

Now this may not be the exhaustive list of how to properly fill up that blank space but I'm sure it will help people who're still confused.

And yes the link to this blog is also going in that blank space as well.

99 Shop Syndrome

It started with the phrase "Harek maal aath aana" meaning every product for 50 paisa, that my dad used to tell us about. He used to put up a shop at Lal Bazaar during the '60's and there would be an array of products ranging from combs, to toys to mirrors, all available for 50 paise.

Then my dad again used to talk about the dollar shops in the US of A with the same concept. And long after coming back from the land of dreams, and when I had grown up enough to pursue my career in marketing, came the 99 shops in Nepal.

For us it was nothing new. But for the Kathmanduites it was exciting. There were 99 shops everywhere. Even the regular retailers with a good reputation converted their shops to 99 shops. Then one fine morning I woke and all those 99 shops had vanished. Or some had changed to 199 and 299 and 399 shops. Meaning it really weren't the 99 shops that it was supposed to be, purely defeating the purpose. Many lost a lot of money too. And what killed it was it's growth itself. It grew so rapidly, making it a fad, that actually none of them could continue sustainably.

Well still the people of Kathmandu haven't understood. And I thought this "99 Shop Syndrome" a term coined by myself, is here to stay.

So where can we see this syndrome right now? Well it's there everywhere except for the fact that it's a bit more visible in, ofcourse lucrative businesses. But it's not about the businesses that has concerned me anymore. It's the business of the businesses. Yes I'm talking about STARTUPS and the investment in these startups by the venture capitalists or investors.

Yes as an underdeveloped nation this was much needed. But with a few personal experiences, I've come to the conclusion that many of these 'business of businesses' aren't here for the REAL BUSINESS, i.e., encouraging startups and letting them grow and make them sustainable in the future. Many have come with a different motive of making a quick buck within a few months, many have come with a motive of exploiting someone's lucrative idea, and many have come with a purpose of taking a shortcut to success using someone elses idea as the ladder, or rather an elevator.
Again someone will come and argue that if someone is benefiting then WHY NOT? Yes that is there but the Nepalese scenario has never been so open minded regarding some outsiders being involved and hence big profit making partnerships have collapsed. Also in some cases the lack of integrity among the stakeholders have caused many great ventures to perish.

But again why am I talking about all this? Well you can also ask yourself this question. Do you want want the zeal of the young entrepreneurial generation to be crushed below the heavy stones of mistrust, exploitation and unethical practices? Of course not.
And that's one main reason that compels me to think and act about the sporadic germination of unhealthy investment scenario.

Kathmandu - Part 1 - The Negatives

Something I wrote during the Unofficial Blockade (Nakabandi) time and had become quite popular, positively and negatively. Do have a read and decide for yourself.
- A city where people are patient staying in line for 48 hrs for 3 ltrs of petrol but are impatient enough to overtake from the wrong side of the road risking their lives.
- A city where people are always in a hurry, enough to risk their lives in traffic, but again never reach anywhere in time.
- A city where the domestic airport is 100 times better than the international airport. (At least now)
- A city where a cc of ad space in a newspaper costs 3500 and a sq ft of land costs about 2500. (Both are irrationally costly)
- A city where Land Rovers roll but the roads are so bad that even a Land Rover's ground clearance is not enough.
- A city where the speed breakers are taller than the footpath (if there is one).
- A city where people buy the best baby food for their babies but don't mind riding them on the front of a bike without helmet.
- A city where people pay Rs. 500/- per liter of petrol in black but fight for a rupee with the local vegetable vendor.
- A city where when waterlogged you can literally raft on the roads (with shit floating by the side)
- A city with more museums than public toilets.
- A city where cow slaughter is banned but no one cares about the stray cows on the roads.
- A city where people shout about "Ek Desh Ek Pradesh" but never think about going out of Kathmandu or even realize that the country extends beyond the borders of Kathmandu.
- A city where people look for mineral water after having road side pani puri. (This one's the funniest for me)
- A city where media houses survive by blackmailing the corporate sector
- A city (rather country) where the President and Finance Minister is 7th-8th standard pass (I doubt that too)
- A city where wearing a helmet with a stylish mountain bike is a must but not necessary if it's an old classic style (budo) cycle. Head injuries happen only when riding a mountain bike.
- A city (rather country) where a corrupt politician after serving his term is grandly welcomed with garlands and is also given a huge compensation by the government.
- A city that produces thousands of doctors and nurses every year but still people die of simple diseases like diarrhea just a few kms away from Kathmandu.
- A city that lies in one of the most earthquake prone areas but still has multi-storeyed buildings everywhere.
- A city where there is traffic jam even when vehicles are moving and even when the vehicles are 'not' moving.
- A city (country) where people think INDIA is bad but everything "Made in India" is good and CHINA is good but everything "Made in China" is bad.
- A city (country) where the development of the nation is exponentially inversely proportional to the number of international development agencies present.
- A city where men mind doing their own dishes but don't mind doing other's dishes when they reach the US.

The Cookie Jar

Going through the kitchen cabinet, I once found a Horlicks (glass) bottle which is about 20 years old. It's still there in my house and practically being used by my mom to stores stuffs like biscuits, dalmot, legumes and what not. It's an antique piece but not practically has an antique value because it's still being used.

My father's an environmentalist. Probably the first environmental engineer in Nepal. He always tells a story about two dictionaries, one which he owned during his school days which didn't have the word #ENVIRONMENT in it and another one which is a more recent one which has the sacred word listed. All he's trying to say is that when he chose Environment as his subject of interest during his masters in the US of A, people here in Nepal didn't know people were studying it as a subject. And yes the way he tells it is much more interesting.

So what's the relation between my mom, the Horlicks bottle and the Environmentalist, my dad?

Well my Dad read all the fat books, came back to Nepal and made quite a few reforms in the environmental section which not only me but the whole of Nepal should be thankful for. Like the green sticker on cars, the Environmental Protection Act and the Environmental Protection Rules, which were the first set of policies developed in the field of Environment in Nepal. And then the latest being the Okharpauwa landfill site project. Yes I want the world to know that my DAD did all these great things.

Now coming back to my mom and the Horlicks bottle. My mom used that Horlicks bottle for 20 years. And one fine day it just dawned upon me as to how many "Plastic jars" were avoided by that one single Horlicks bottle? We as new age kids always criticized our moms and aunts and grandmas about how they were old fashioned and how they kept everything safe for future use? We thought it was cheap? But now I'm no more ashamed of it as I myself have also grown to be a conservationist and I finally realize that it actually STARTS FROM YOUR HOME.

Mother dear collects all milk plastics pouches, rinses it with water and keeps it safe. I realized that they could be donated to the Municipal office and they would reuse or recycle it. Mom usually uses newspapers as shelf coverings in kitchen cabinets. Easy to use, cheap and environmentally safe. She washes vegetables in a seperate bucket and then uses that water to water the plants outside. She collects all #POLYTHENE bags, the most dangerous of them all, and barters it with a vegetable vendor for some chillies or corriander. She diligently uses the compost bin to throw away all the organic waste. She collects each and every piece of plastic carefully to know if it can be recycled and collected by the "kabaadi wala". All in all, practically my mom has been helping the environment in so many ways. And when I compare, it's almost equal or sometimes even more than what my old man does.

I've always been familiar with the three R's of environmentalism. #Reduce, #Reuse, #Recycle. But refusing to use plastics, refusing to give in to social pressure or status demands, refusing to move away from what you believe is what is important. And hence today I add one more R. #REFUSE.

My Brutal Empathy ???

Yes, that's the most circulated picture over internet at the moment. But you'll ask me who's the child in the picture below it?
Well that's my SON. I morphed my son's face on the picture just to actually feel it. It HURT but still I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel the pain. Though I will never be able to feel the real pain of his parents (i.e., if they are alive).
And the reason I come up with this post is to vent out my frustration and anger towards what the world is going through.
Recently I had a discussion with an Indian friend who was hell bent towards the destruction of Pakistan because he thinks it's wise enough to think likewise when Pakistanis think about the "Barbaadi of India". My bottomline to him was nothing but an old adage that says, "an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind".
Coming back to the picture, it's been framed on my mind since the day the previous picture of a Syrian refugee child swept at a shore surfaced. And then after about a year from that incident, this picture appears. And this time I couldn't take it anymore.
All I thought then and now was I could see my own son's face superimposed on that victim's face. Later the news spread that one of his brothers actually died and he survived. I worry about where this kid must be staying, where his parent's must be, what is he going to do now? Will he grow up to be more angry than the ones who did this to him? Is his anger going to fuel a negative spiral of war and hatred further? Or is there a way to subside his anger and instead make him an angel of peace?
The question remains and it troubles me. And still I fear, should it happen to my world and my family and my loved ones be the victim.
Bottom line: Hate breeds hate. It's got to STOP. Hope this post helps to spread the message, and change their thoughts, even if it's a few like my Indian friend.

Technicality of Profanity

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this story are absolutely personal and doesn’t necessary motivate anyone in the audience to practice what I say in the next 10 or so minutes.

Bottom line: Please don’t try this at home and become a foul mouthed son of a bitch.

But yes I’d surely appreciate if it is able to change the mindset of some people.

Hello everyone. I’m Kashyap Shakya and am here to tell you a story about the “Technicality of Profanity”.

So once upon a time in 1998 I went to pursue engineering at Kamla Nehru Institute of Technology (KNIT) a.k.a. “Kala Naag In Trousers”. The story starts from the very parody name of the institute. I along with other two “baklols” joined the institute about a month late as we were state nominated students from Sikkim.
The first scene going around the college to complete the formalities of admission were some groups of students moving around predominantly in white shirt and grey pants, very short hair fully oiled with head held low (which was actually called the third button meaning you’re supposed to stare at the third button of your shirt at all times).
And in some places you could see people doing the sit ups and in some places you could see some students literally worshiping a tree.
A while later my dad, who’d done his engineering from Patna, explained to me that this was all part of 'Ragging'.
Anyways we got admitted and unfortunately we were put up in the 3^rd year hostel. Now being a fresher and putting up in the 3^rd year hostel is like admitting a 3 year old to a ghost house. Because the 3^rd year is the most notorious and the most jinxed phase of engineering.
So then things went on and for the first time we entered the first year hostel and again there was the mandatory regular ragging going on with seniors all around. You could see people running around with underwears on top of their pants. They called it the Phantom.
But in a few days what actually got my attention was the swearing and the cursing that was going around. And everyone taking it so lightly. You could hear words like Madarchod, bahanchod, saala Bakchod, bhosadike, teri maa ki … and all sorts of obscenities that you could think of.
And the first time anyone said those words to me, I was ENRAGED, PISSED OFF AND REALLY REALLY ANGRY. To the extent that I was almost on the verge of a fist fight with a senior, who was a local there. I was 1000’s of miles away from home and that could have landed me in a serious serious problem. I could have been bashed up to a pulp. But somehow I kept my calm.
During this time there were a few seniors who were observing me. They were from the northern part of UP, now called the Uttarakhand. They came to me and told me to come to their room. The rest of the guys around me went silent. That was actually a ROOM CALL. A room call meant there was something drastic going to happen. During room calls some guys were made to strip butt naked, some were made to eat a condom and some were made to sit in mid air for hours.
Now this was tension. But anyways I went to their room. There were 3 or 4 in the room. It was hot like hell. Like around 49 degrees. The room smelt of sweat mixed with really rotten socks mixed with some alcohol mixed with some dead rat mixed with some puke and what not.
So one of the seniors started off with something like, “tereko bahut ghussa ata hai, nai? Tere ko gaali nahin pachti?" And then he made me swear to the rotating ceiling fan for almost 15 minutes with the worst words I could come up with. I tried my best. And after being disappointed, one of them gave me a demo of how it is done. This time I was not enraged because we were swearing at the fan.
And now came the major turning point. The senior comes and tries to calm me down and gives me a FUNDA. A mantra I’ve carried from then on.
He tells me, “dekh beta, ye ek technical college hai. Yahan pe jo hota hai sab technical hai. Aur jo gaali chalta hai yahan, who bhi technical hai.” Now I was a bit confused. And then he starts explaining to me what is so technical about everything in an engineering college.
Literally there was the technical intro, technical aarti, technical namaz and everything else was technical.
So he explains to me about the technicality of the GAALI. He tells me, "see if someone calls you a madarchod, then he actually means your technical mother, if someone calls you behenchod then he’s actually referring to your technical sister, if he calls you betichod, he’s referring to your technical daughter and so on.
And who were these technical people? Technical mother = female senior from the college, technical sister = your female batchmates, technical beti = your female junior, technical father = your male senior.
I was hit so hard by this philosophy. Yes philosophy. From generations to generations the students had evolved to make up this ecosystem in such a way that balance was maintained perfectly irrespective of caste, creed, age, seniority, geography etc. That was the perfect route to HARMONY.
I was so so relieved. It was like cutting the thread of a gas filled balloon and letting it go. Or like having a bottle of soda and burping loud. It was so satisfying to understand that. The veil that was shadowing my perception was completely fallen and now I could see clearly. My clouded mind was cleared. And then I lived for four years happily ever after swearing and cursing.
I literally became one of the best foul mouthed son of a bitch throughout my four years to the extent that even the locals would feel competition in front of me.
The basic moral still didn’t come right away. I realized quite later that if only the whole world or even just our nation for a while, considered this philosophy of looking at things from a different perspective and different dimension, would it help to bring at least some amount of peace in the society? Like someone comes and says Fuck you and you say Thank you. And I’ve carried that in my mind all along and have learnt to take such things lightly. Nowadays I’m enraged by not the swearing and the cursing but other unjust and anti-social activities happening around me.
And I’d just like to add on to this story. Being brought up in a Newari family, swearing with words like Mampaga is very common. Like we use it in our home without any reservations. Sometimes my mom shows a bit of dissatisfaction but again it’s ok. And I’ve been notoriously famous for teaching such words to all my cousin’s kids. You can imagine 3 year olds going around shouting Mampaga when guests are there. Honestly, it’s very very cute.
And I’ve been trying to teach the same to my two year old. But god’s punishment comes in different ways. He JUST DOESN’T SAY IT. And I’m so disappointed. I would like to capture a video of him saying Mampaga and show it to him when he grows up but NO. He just wouldn’t say it. And finally I’d like to say that my crusade is still on hoping that my prodigal son will spell out that magic word one of these days and I’ll capture it and flaunt it out on facebook.

Also check out the video of my talk at StoryYellers at https://youtu.be/_dr1ViIO1bQ

Image Source: Internet

The Elephant Tooth

“What? You’ve got ivory products? Isn’t it illegal to own them?” he asked. “Yes it is brother, but it’s been with our family for quite some time. Since the time when dealing in ivory products were legal”, she said. “Wow”, he gasped. Puja understanding the amazement of her cousin and his taste in antique stuffs offered to provide him a piece of an artifact to which he was absolutely obliged. He wanted to pay but she refused. For her it was just one small piece among hundreds lying around. That night he couldn’t sleep. The artifact made up of genuine ivory. The excitement of owning something rare and illegal gripped him with excitement. That whole night he dreamt about everything ivory. From statues, to sculptures of naked women to even a whole life sized elephant made up of ivory. The dreams were unrealistic and the situations in which he got those artifacts made no sense with the real life scenarios. In one of his dreams he was literally riding an elephant made up of ivory, like some god, with people around bowing down to him. That must have been the feeling of superiority of owning something rare being reflected that ways. So two days after that Puja called him and told him that she’d finally got the piece after going through all the stuffs. Some were pretty big enough and had a huge price in the market. She didn’t want to give those not because of the price but because that could land her and her family in trouble. So she had chosen one piece she liked very much and thought he would value much. And in the evening when they both met, she carefully took out a small piece of paper in which the ivory piece was wrapped quite carelessly. She opened it. He actually couldn’t make out what it was. It struck him only when he took it in his hands and watched carefully for almost five to seven minutes. His face changed. Seemed like he was angry, or sad or just plain unhappy or dissatisfied. He actually couldn’t tell. Puja, knowing her cousin well, asked him, “What’s wrong dai? You didn’t like it? Is it too small? If so I can get you something bigger”. To which he replied, “No sis. Absolutely not. I will definitely accept this piece and I love it. But I hate it even more. I love it simply because it’s ivory. But I now I hate it even more and will hate every other piece of ivory item from now on.” Puja was surprised and obviously confused. “What do you mean, Ka-dai?” “Puja do you realize what this is?”

“Yes I do realize. It’s a GANESH”, she said casually.

P.S. This is a short story based on my real life experience but slightly dramatized. And the image used in this blog is the actual Ivory Ganesh, I'm talking about.

Bhaiya Moongfali...

Life in KNIT was wierd and the people... WIERDER. This guy was one of them. Wierd but someone who you'd never forget till you lived.

The first wierd things about the place Sultanpur, and the people started off with their names.

The places were named like Kudebhaar (a hill of garbage), ganda naala (dirty drain), thandi galli (cold street) which was the name of the red light area and so on.

And the people were named like Jaalim (the guy who brought milk), Dildar (the dhobi), Jhagdu (the rickshaw guy) and of course Majnu (the walking talking supermarket, the postman, the 007).

The walking talking supermarket - This guy used to come with a bag full of goodies (biscuits, bhujia and the lots) and knock on every door.

The Postman - He was one of the only MALE species allowed within the Red Walls of the Girls Hostel. And it was obvious that he was used to smuggle contraband (such as greeting cards and small gifts) across the border.

007 - Since he was the only guy who could enter without any id's within the Red Walls, guys used to ask him a lot of questions. And sometimes he even exaggerated enough to add to people's excitement. He'd learnt the way of the boys.

But all in all a simple man with a simple soul who made a living selling simple stuffs to people who'd later become very very complicated. And he continued to do so till one day his good soul left his not so good mortal body.

I wish him all the best and hope that he'll be born an even better person in his new life.

Fatherhood

Yes it's selfish enough to be not mentioning it as "Parenthood" instead of fatherhood because it's a joint effort of me the 'newly born father' and the 'newly born mother' - my wife.

But it's again very personal enough to be writing about fatherhood than a mixed generalized view that is parenthood. I honestly cannot feel the motherhood because as I look at it, it feels much greater than my own tiny efforts starting from the very conception to giving birth to bringing up a child, starting from the very day my wife's pregnancy test came positive.

So what's this fatherhood all about?

Well the first thought that struck me holding my son for the first time was "now a father is born". I was more scared about grooming myself as a good father than my son growing up to be a good person because ultimately my son's well being is resultant of how good I succeed as a father.

The beginning of fatherhood starts with some so called 'sacrifices'. Late night football matches, movies, loud music, parties and so on. You may think you have to sacrifice these the day you get married but you can fight for it with your wife. But now, not with your child.

But the interesting part is the love of doing the diapers and the milk bottles for all that you've sacrificed and that's why I don't feel like it's sacrifice. I'd do that again and again and again any given day. It's difficult to explain to someone who's not a father yet. ABSOLUTELY NOT POSSIBLE.

Then comes the personality change part. Now you're no more who you were. You are a changed person. And it takes a keen eye to realize that. I mean the eyes of a third person. Only THEY can come and tell you that you've changed. Then there may be a weird instance when YOU realize that you've changed. Once in a while you'll realize yourself dancing alone in the room to amaze the little one and you don't feel stupid at all.

Then comes the insecurity part. I realized that I was getting jealous when my son showed some affection towards someone else. Even my wife and his mom. It's obvious for a son or any child to be more close to the mum than the pop. But no matter what it makes you spit green. And you do make those futile attempts, sometimes escalating to the level of kidnapping your own child and keeping him away from his mum, so that he is closer to you. But the bottom line is "It doesn't work".

The obsession part. I realized that I have pictures of me and my son or just my son everywhere. The mobile wallpaper, FB profile picture, the desktop wallpaper and even the windows profile picture and the social media posts. My gallery is just filled up with my son's pictures and I don't get tired looking at them again and again.

The fear of growing. Since I have just one kid and the second one may not be a possibility, I fear that he's growing so fast. What am I gonna do when he's all grown and not at all cute and when he's not spelling out new words everyday or nagging me to wrestle with him every night before sleep? If only God could keep him the way he is right now. But that's not going to happen.

So, well this write up will never end because there are new things happening that are worth mentioning even while I'm typing. But at least I want people to know about it through my experiences about what it's like to be a parent. It's AMAZING.

And I've got my own things planned out throughout his growth. Just hope that he'll enjoy accompanying me and my wife (nearly forgot) in these adventures to come.

Only when you become a FATHER can you call yourself a COMPLETE MAN.

Art of Giving

Each of this silver vessel was given to me, my brother and my sister as birthday gifts by our parents. The thought behind it was that of my mom.
On my last birthday, the 36th, I was fumbling with my gift to open it up. To my surprise it was this silver vessel.
The significance of this silver vessel is that during the times of Buddha, the great one along with his disciples used to go around town asking for alms with such a bowl (not necessarily of silver) and would come back and consume whatever was put in it. They never begged or demanded for anything and never rejected anything given to them.
And with the spread of the Buddhist philosophy, the believers have been using this bowl, named as 'Patra' or 'Golpa' to give alms to the monks.
Now after having explained about what this bowl technically stands for, I come back to the day I got it as a gift from my parents. After I opened it up and had this bowl in my hand it just enlightened upon me that this was one of the greatest gifts that my mom had ever given me. Birthdays gifts usually consist of materialistic stuffs which people like to consume for themselves. But this wasn't something I could consume. Even the consumption of this gift meant 'giving to others'. Whenever I would take it out, it would be for the purpose of giving and it would benefit someone else. It could be a monk or a normal human being.
And one would definitely ask, why does it have to be of silver and so costly? It's another revelation for me. It gave me a sense of understanding that even the most precious of materialistic things can transcend their cosmetic purpose and be used for something more worthwhile. Definitely I'm never going to remake it into a jewellery item or sell it for money. It will only pass on from generation to generation along with the 'Sanskar' of the 'Art of Giving'.
And though I'd been thinking about putting these thoughts of mine into words, today seemed to be the most appropriate. The day of the "Pancha Mahadaan" when everyone in Lalitpur come out of their homes and give five things of basic needs to whoever comes to their door.
My mom proudly took this out today morning and I could feel the excitement in her face that she'd be GIVING today with this silver bowl. And to add to it, her grandson, Arahanta will be accompanying her. And though I won't be there to do the honors, I'm at least happy that the 'Sanskar' is being passed on.
Lastly I thank my late grandmom and my family to have not only maintained and practiced her teachings but also to have enhanced it to a great level in continuing with this culture of the "Art of Giving".

Bhawatu Sabba Mangalam