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Sheer love for Kathmandu

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DR. DIPAK DEVKOTA

I love Kathmandu, and spitting in the streets didn’t mean I didn’t. It was a big ‘no no’ when it came to spitting in the streets in New Zealand. It was frowned upon and it was usually the coloured foreigners who did this. One came across articles in newspapers denouncing people who left body fluids in the streets. What do you do when you cough up some phlegm in the streets, I asked myself. I swallowed a lot of phlegm in order not to arouse antagonism towards what was already a biased view towards my ‘coloured’ skin. I also wondered about the people that had started spitting betel juice at corners of streets in Maitidevi. I didn’t like it but there was nothing I could do. Moreover, I had no answer to ‘Is this street your grandfather’s property?’ My grandfather didn’t really earn that much and he certainly couldn’t claim streets for his own. What was it that said it wasn’t right to spit betel nut juice at corners of streets? I wouldn’t win any debate even if I was given a fair opportunity. The concept of waste paper baskets had not infiltrated to the masses that only saw goggles and jewel thief caps and fast cars and mobikes in the West. For all the decadent luxury in the West, there’s a certain honesty and respect for public wealth that still is lacking in our streets. People pay taxes in these countries and the phrase ‘taxpayer’s money’ wins all debates here.

I love Kathmandu, and when I saw the garbage pile up in the streets, like always there was little I could do. The lush landscape that was filled with growing paddy gave way to concrete blocks and brick facades. The quiet streets have swelled with organic and non-organic traffic. The tap that ran with water started dripping and finally ran dry. The blackouts grew in length and frequency. Still there have been many positive changes. More shops and goods are within walking distance. More roads have bitumen on them and I don’t need to walk in mud and filth to my house. Surely the collective energy will be for the better. The masses are better educated than in our times. Change is inevitable and the loving face that gave me unconditional love is gone from this world. The love I received in growing up makes me cling to the Kathmandu I knew. Is this Kathmandu but a dream I saw, a brief illusion- a corner in the web of ‘Maya’ that envelopes ultimate reality? I hope Kathmandu grows better, stronger, more clean, more benevolent towards its denizens. Even today children are growing up that will remember Kathmandu as it is now and love its memories when they are older. The valley that Manjushree freed from the waters is being watched by the eyes of Swoyambhu.

source: The Himalayan Times,6 Jan 2013