दोषी चस्मा

केही दिन अघि ‘हाम्रा दुःख हाम्रा कुण्ठा’ शीर्षकको रामेश्वरी पन्तको लेखबारे चर्चा भएको देखेँ । प्रतिक्रियाहरू मुख्यत दुईवटा विषयमा केन्द्रित देखिए: क) कान्तिपुरले छाप्नु हुन्थ्यो हुँदैनथ्यो र, ख) लेखले गरेका तर्कहरु प्रति विमति। मेरो यो टिप्पणी पन्तको लेखमा सामेल तर्कहरूको विसंगतिमा केन्द्रित छ।

पन्तको मुख्य तर्क छ, “हामी महिला आफैं अपमानित हुने गरी पुरुष सदस्यलाई टाउकामा टेकाउँछौं अनि भन्छौं, ‘हामी हेपियौं, हामी पेलियौं ।’”

यो तर्कमा दुई कर्ताहरू निहित छन् : टाउकोमा टेकाउने महिला (‘हामी’) र टाउकोमा टेक्ने पुरुष । पन्तका अनुसार पुरुषले हाम्रो टाउकोमा टेक्नुको मुख्य कारण हामी महिला नै हौं । टाउकोमा टेक्नमा पुरुषको खासै भूमिका छैन किनभने महिलाहरू नै उनीहरुलाई उचालेर आफ्नो टाउकोमा राख्छन् । यो तर्क अनुसार पुरुषहरू कुनै निर्जीव, गाग्री जस्ता समान हुन् जो आफैँ केहि गर्न सक्दैनन्, सोच्न सक्दैनन् र निर्णय गर्न सक्दैनन् । उनीहरू महिलाले ‘मै पकाउँछु, मै बच्चा हेर्छु, मै सरसफाई गर्छु’ भन्दै काममा जोतिइरहँदा चुपचाप बस्ने मुर्ति मात्रै हुन् । अर्थात्, पुरुषहरू आफै ती घरायसी काम गर्न अग्रसर हुनै सक्दैनन्, वा उनीहरू स्वविवेकले ती घरासयी काम गर्न असमर्थ छन् । त्यसैले महिलाहरूले बारम्बार उनीहरूलाई सम्झाउनुपर्छ । महिलाहरूले नसम्झाएकाले मात्रै पुरुषहरूले घरासयी काम नगरेका हुन् । तसर्थ महिलाहरू आफैले रोजेको र खोजेको भार बोकिरहेका छन् । यसरी आफ्नै रोजाईमा घरधन्दाले ढाड भाँचिने गरि काम गरिरहेकी महिलाले त्यति नै बेला चिया सुरुप्प पार्दै पत्रिका पढिरहेका पुरुषहरूलाई ‘तिमी यो गरिदेउ’  नभनेको हुनाले दुख पाएँ भन्दै ‘कुण्ठा’ पोख्नुको अर्थ छैन। पन्तका अनुसार मुख्य समस्या कामकाजी र ‘पढालिखा बुहारीहरुले’ घरमा कार्य विभाजन गर्ने हिम्मत देखाउन नसक्नु हो ।

अब म पन्तको यो तर्कका गुण र दोषहरू सुचिकृत गर्नेछु।  

१) महिला सर्वेसर्वा, पुरुष गौण: नेपाली सञ्चार माध्यममा देखिने महिलासम्बन्धि लेखहरूमा प्रायजसो उनीहरूलाई  निरीह, अबला, आफ्नोलागि केहि बोल्न र गर्न नसक्ने, पितृसत्ताका पीडित पात्रका रूपमा चित्रण गरिन्छ । पन्तको लेखले त्यसो गर्दैन । उनको लेखका बाहुन-क्षेत्रीपरिवारका महिलाहरू पीडित (कामको बोझले थिचिएका) र ‘सशक्त’ (पढेलेखेका, कामकाजी) दुवै छन्; उनीहरू आफ्नो खराब अवस्था परिवर्तन सक्षम छन् तर त्यसो गर्न उनीहरूले हिम्मत जुटाइरहेका छैनन् । झट्ट हेर्दा हो है जस्तो देखिने यो तर्कले पितृसत्ताले सिर्जेको असमान संरचना र घरायसी कार्यभारको सम्पूर्ण दोष र जिम्मा महिला माथि थोपर्छ; पुरुषलाई चलाखीपूर्वक चोख्याउँछ । कुनै गरिबलाई ‘तिम्रो गरिबीको एकै मात्र कारक तिमी नै हौ, विद्यमान अन्यायपूर्ण आर्थिक, राजनीतिक र सामाजिक संरचनाको कुनै भूमिका छैन’ भने जस्तै हो पन्तको तर्क जो असङ्गतिपूर्ण छ ।

एकछिनलाई घरायसी कार्यविभाजनबारे पन्तले दिएको कारणलाई नै महिलाहरुको दुखको कारक मानौँ । पीडितले आफैँ नबोलेसम्म, आफ्नो अवस्था फेर्न केहि न केही प्रयास नगरेसम्म समस्या निवारण हुन्न । पन्तले त्यसै भन्न खोजेको हो भने पनि त्यो पूर्ण तर्क होइन । पितृसत्ताले महिला र पुरुष दुवैलाई असर गर्छ भन्ने स्थापित भैसकेको परिवेशमा त्यसले सिर्जेका समस्या हल गर्न चाहिँ महिलाको मात्र भूमिका किन हुनुपर्ने भन्ने प्रश्नको उत्तर लेखमा छैन । 

सन् २०१६ को नेपाल जनसाङ्खिक तथा स्वास्थ्य सर्वेक्षण अनुसार २९ % महिला र २३ % पुरुष ‘श्रीमतीले खाना डढाएमा’ वा ‘श्रीमान सँग तर्क गरेमा’ लोग्नेले स्वास्नीलाई कुट्नु ठिक हो भन्ने सोचाई राख्छन् । त्यस्तै, उनीहरू ‘श्रीमानलाई नभनी बाहिर गएमा’, ‘बच्चालाई वास्ता नगरेमा’ वा ‘श्रीमानसँग यौन सम्बन्ध राख्न नमानेमा’ लोग्नेले स्वास्नीलाई कुट्नु ठिकै हो भन्ठान्छन् । यस्तो मानसिकता बोक्ने यो भाँडिम मानिस (पुरुषभन्दा बढी महिला) भएको हाम्रो समाजमा महिलाले हिम्मत गरिरहेका छैनन् भन्नु आफैंमा स्तब्ध पार्ने प्रश्न चाहिँ होइन । तर महिलाले किन हिम्मत गरेनन् होला, वा पुरुषले घरका काम गर्न किन अग्रसरता देखाउँदैनन् होला तथा व्याप्त पितृसत्तात्मक मान्यता (जस्तै: पुरुष भएर रुनु हुन्न, घर धान्नु पर्छ, वंश विस्तार छोरोले मात्र गर्छ) र चालचलन (बिहेपछि महिला पुरुषको घर जानुपर्छ, लोग्ने मरेपछि महिलाले रातो लाउनुहुन्न) लाई घर भित्र र बाहिर प्रश्न उठाउँदै समानताको लागि क्रान्ति गर्न किन जरूरी छ भनेर अर्थ्याउन आवश्यक छ । यी कुरा पन्तले उल्लेख मात्र गरिदिएको भए सायद लेखप्रति यति धेरै नकारात्मक प्रतिक्रिया आउने थिएनन् र म पनि यो टिप्पणी लेख्नेगरि उद्वेलित हुने थिइन।

पुरुषको भूमिकाबारे छलफल गर्न्दा लेखमा न्युजिल्याण्डकी प्रधानमन्त्री जसिन्डा अर्डर्न र घरबच्चा समाल्ने उनका पति क्लार्क गेफोर्डको उदाहरण छ। तर उक्त कार्यविभाजन अर्डर्न मात्रको अग्रसरताले भएको होला वा दुवैको समझदारीमा भन्नेतिर ध्यान गएको छैन । के अर्डर्नले अह्राएपछि मात्र गेफोर्डले घर समाल्ने काममा सहमति जनाए होलान्? वा उनी आफैले ‘तिमीले प्रधानमन्त्री कार्यालय चलाउँदा म घर-बच्चा सम्हाल्छु’ भनेर प्रस्ताव राखेहोलान् । यदि न्युजिल्याण्डका ती पुरुष श्रीमतीले नअह्राइकनै घरायसी काम गर्न अघिसरेका हुन् भने नेपाली पुरुषलाई चाहिँ महिलाले ‘यसो गर उसो गर’ भन्नै पर्छ, नभने नेपाली पुरुषले काम गर्दैनन् भन्ने तर्क कसरी मिल्छ ? आखिर बाहिर गएर जाँड खान वा जुवा, तास र लुडो खेल्न अनि चिया पसलमा बिहानदेखि बेलुकासम्म गफ हाँकेर बस्न थुप्रै नेपाली पुरुषलाई महिलाले अह्राउन परेको छैन ।

पन्तको तर्कमा अर्को पनि समस्या छ । उनकै अनुसार महिलाले पुरुषलाई घरको काम गर्न आग्रह गरे वा कार्य विभाजन गरे घरको वातावरण राम्रो हुन्छ र महिलाहरुले कुण्ठा पोख्नु पर्ने अवस्था रहँदैन । पुरुषहरूलाई घरायसी काममा लगाएर महिलाले घरको अवस्था त सुधार्छन् नै, साथै बोनसस्वरूप ती पुरुषलाई पनि सपार्न सक्छन् । अर्थात्, बच्चादेखि लाठे हुर्काउने र तिनको हेरविचार गर्ने पितृसत्ताले महिलामाथि थोपरेको भूमिकालाई नै पन्तले महिलाहरूको मुख्य जिम्मेवारी हो भन्ने ठानेको देखिन्छ । तर महिलाहरू बिग्रेका पुरुष सपार्ने सुधार गृह वा पुनर्स्थापना केन्द्र होइनन् ।

घरायसी काम गर्नु जीवनोपयोगी न्युनतम आवश्यकता हो । प्रश्न, महिलाले पुरुषलाई काम गर्न किन सम्झाउँदैनन् भन्ने होइन बरु पुरुषहरू आफ्नो काम आफै गर्छु किन भन्दैनन् भन्ने हो । यसको उत्तर पन्तको लेखमा भेटिन्न किनभने उनी समस्याको जड पितृसत्तात्मक संरचना र सोचको उल्लेखै गर्दिनन् । पुलिङ्ग पुज्ने समाजमा आर्थिक, सांस्कृतिक, राजनीतिक सुविधाले ढाडिएका पुरुषहरूलाई घरायसी कामकै हकमा मात्र ‘कुण्ठित महिलाहरू’को आदेश, निर्देशन वा अनुरोध चाहिन्छ भन्नु धृष्टता हो ।

२) मात्र ‘हिम्मत’को कमी: पन्तको लेखको अर्को दाबी भनेको महिलाहरूमा आफ्नो परिस्थितिबाट उम्किएर स्वहित र खुशीका लागि काम गर्ने ‘हिम्मत’ छैन । पन्तका अनुसार आफूमा आइपरेको असमान घरायसी बोझ घटाउन महिलाहरूले पुरुषहरूलाई ‘घरका काममा सघाऊ’ भन्न हिम्मत जुटाउनु पर्छ । यो विचारलाई सहि मान्ने हो भने पनि व्यक्तिगत जीवनका नरमाइला भोगाईहरू अन्यायको सूचक हो भनि बुझ्न ‘पढालिखा’ र ‘कामकाजी’ भएर मात्र पुग्दैन । व्यक्तिगत भोगाई, हुर्काई, आफूमा अन्तर्निहित पितृसत्तात्मक सोच लगायतका कारणले पनि महिलाहरूले हिम्मत जुटाउन सक्दैनन् वा त्यसको आवश्यकता देख्दैनन् । सदियौंदेखि आफ्ना वरपरका महिलाहरूले भोगेको र आफ्नै आमा-हजुरआमाबाट सरेको अन्तरपुस्ते आघातबाट गुज्रिएका महिलाहरूमा रातारात अक्षर चिन्दैमा अदम्य सहस किन आएन भन्नु हास्यास्पद हुन्छ । 

‘हिम्मत’ लाई कसरी बुझ्ने? के परिचित परिवेश त्यागेर अर्को मान्छेको घरमा गएर बस्नु हिम्मतिलो काम होइन? गर्भैदेखि छोरा खोज्ने र एउटी महिलालाई ‘तिमी कहिल्यै आफैँमा पूर्ण हुन सक्दैनौ’ भन्दै पाइलापाइलामा यौनाङ्गसँग उसको ल्याकत जोड्ने समाजमा बाँच्नु नै हिम्मतिलो होइन? चल-अचल सम्पत्तिमा न्यून पहुँच राखेर पनि पढेर, घर सम्हालेर, बच्चा हेरेर आफ्नै खुट्टामा उभिनु हिम्मतिलो होइन? वा वैवाहिक थिचोमिचो सहन नचाहेर वा आफ्नै खुसी रोजेर पारपाचुके गर्नु वा विवाह नगरी आफ्नो जीवन चाहे अनुसार बिताउनु हिम्मतिलो काम होइन? बिहे गरेर, आफु परिचित रहनसहन सबै त्यागेर नयाँ घरमा आएकी महिलालाई त्यो नौलो परिस्थिमा बाँच्न सहज वातावरण निर्माण गर्ने भूमिका पुरुष र उसका परिवारका सदस्यको होइन? ‘हिम्मत जुटाउन नसकेर’ काममा जोतिएका महिलाले नै घरको कार्यविभाजन पनि गर्ने थप भार किन लिनुपर्ने? यो स्थितिमा त्यो थप जिम्मा नलिएरै महिलाहरूले प्रतिकार गरिरहेको बुझ्नुपर्छ। हिम्मत चिया पकाऊ भन्नलाई नभएर पितृसत्तात्मक सोच र मान्यतालाई प्रश्न गर्न र त्यसको जडलाई चुनौती दिन चाहिन्छ।

पढाई: ‘पढालिखाले त हिम्मत गर्दैनन् के कुण्ठ पोख्नु’ भन्ने खालको तर्कले नपढेलेखेकाहरू झन् कहिले कुनै कुरामा हिम्मत गर्न सक्दैनन् भन्ने अर्थ पनि लाग्न सक्छ । फेरी पढेलेखेको भनेको के हो? अक्षर चिनेको? एसएलसी पास? बिए? बिएस्सी? पढेकै कुरा गर्दा कसले के पढेको छ भन्ने कुरा पनि आउँछ। पढ्नु र चेतनशील हुनु एउटै होइन । पढ्दैमा  संवेदनशील होइन्छ भन्ने पनि होइन। त्यसैले पढ्नसक्नु नै सबै समस्याको हल हो भन्ने अर्थ दिने विचार व्यवहारसँग मेल खाँदैन। साथै, ‘यत्ति त गर्न नसक्ने, पढेर के लछारपाटो लाइस्’ आसयको तर्क गर्दै ‘पढालिखा बुहारी’लाई दोषी देखाउँदा अप्रक्षतरूपमा धेर ‘पढेर समाज महिलाले भाँडे’ खालको गलत विचारलाई प्रोत्साहन गर्दछ ।  हरेक मान्छेको विचार र आचरण ऊ बाँच्ने सामाजिक-राजनीतिक परिस्थितिमा भर पर्छ र शिक्षा त्यसको एउटा पाटो मात्र हो। त्यसैले कसैको पढाईलाई खेदेर अहिले संसारभरी नै देखिएको विज्ञान र विज्ञविरोधी विचारलाई नेपालमा पढेर र लेखेरै नाम बनाएकाहरूले प्रोत्साहन गर्नु विरोधाभाषपूर्ण छ । पढेकोमा दम्भ गर्ने र पढेकै हुनाले कसैलाई खेद्ने दुवै खाले प्रवृति निन्दनीय छन् ।

क्रान्ति: अर्को कुरा, नेपालीमा अनुनय विनय गरेर मात्र कुनै पनि उत्पीडित वर्गको कुरा उत्पीडकले सुनेको इतिहास  छैन। गुनासो सुनेर सहजै व्यवहार परिवर्तन गरी पीडित पक्षलाई सुविधा दिनु त परैको कुरा । त्यस्तो हुँदो हो त नेपालका कुनै पनि जात-जाति, वर्ग, लिङ्गका मानिसले कहिल्यै संघर्ष गर्नुपर्दैन थियो । ‘मलाई अप्ठयारो भएको छ’ भन्ने बित्तिकै पोल्टामा अधिकार झरिहाल्ने भए नेपालमा राजनीतिक सामाजिक आन्दोलन वा चेतना अभियान किन चल्थे। पुरुषहरूले महिलाहरूकै आग्रहमा घरको काम गर्नेभए ‘खाना डढाउने श्रीमती कुट्दा हुन्छ’ भन्ने पुरुष नेपालमा हुँदैनथे। त्यसैगरी ‘खाना डडाएकोमा आफुलाई लोग्नेले कुटे हुन्छ’ भन्ने महिलाहरू पनि यो मुलुकमा हुन्नथे । त्यसैले पितृसत्तात्मक संरचना बिथोल्ने प्रयासको छलफल नगरेसम्म महिला-पुरुष सम्बन्धको चर्चा अपूर्ण हुन्छ ।

अन्त्यमा, महिलाहरूले पाएको दुखको बीज उनीहरू आफैँ हुन् र यसको समाधान उनीहरूले आफ्नो व्यवहार बदलेरै  मात्र गर्न सक्दछन् भन्ने पन्तको विचार पीडितलाई नै दोष लाउने प्रवृतिको उदाहरण मात्र होइन । प्रत्येक मान्छेले आफ्नो भाग्य आफैँ निर्माण गर्छ र आफ्नो धन, सफलता, प्रगति र खुसीको लागि ऊ स्वयं मात्र जिम्मेवार छ भन्ने विचारधारा पन्तको लेखको आधार हो । सबैकुरा व्यक्तिमै निहित हुन्छ भन्ने विचार राख्नेहरू मान्छेको प्रगतिमा संरचनात्मक तगारोहरू हुँदै नहुने झैँ गर्दछन् जसको उदाहरण यो लेख हो । त्यसैले पन्तको लेख प्रतिको मेरो विमति दशैंमा कसले कसलाई ‘पक्कु पकाऊ वा अचार बनाऊ’ भन्यो वा भनेन बारे होइन । यो जीवन र जगतलाई कसरी हेर्ने बुझ्ने भन्ने सैद्धान्तिक भिन्नताको पनि उपज हो। सैद्धान्तिक चस्मा अनुसार तर्कलाई जता पनि लान सकिन्छ तर त्यसो गर्दा तर्कको धरातल वास्तविक जीवन हो भनेर बिर्सिनुभएन।  वास्तविकतासँग मेल नखाने सैधान्तिक आधारहरू भत्काउन गाह्रो हुँदैन ।

आत्मावलोकन

कान्तिपुरले यो लेख छाप्नु हुँदैनथ्यो भन्ने तर्क म बुझ्दछु र अभियन्ताहरूले त्यसो भन्नु स्वाभाविकै हो । तर समाजबारे अध्ययन गर्नेहरुले फरक विचारलाई अदेखा झैँ गर्न मिल्दैन। त्यस्ता विचारसँग असहमत हुँदा हुँदै पनि तिनलाई केलाउनुपर्छ ।

पन्तकै लेखको कुरा गर्दा १४ वर्ष अगाडी, सन् २००६ मा उमेर, अनुभव र अध्ययन सबैले निकै काँचो हुँदा मैले पनि कान्तिपुरमा हामी महिलाहरू किन आफ्नो लागि बोल्दैनौँ भनेर लेखेकी रहेछु। त्यसमा महिलाको दुखको बीज पुरुषलाई काम नलाउनु नै हो भनेर नकिट्नाले सायद कुनै आलोचना झेल्नुपरेको थिएन । त्यतिखेर ट्वीटर पनि थिएन। स्नातकोत्तर गर्दा मेरो एउटा विषय लैंगिकता र विकास थियो । सो विषयका शिक्षकले त्यसबारेमा गर्ने कुरा सतही भएकाले, विषयको गाम्भीर्यताबारे उनी अनभिज्ञ रहेकाले, र उनका कक्षाले रत्तिभर बौद्धिक उत्सुकता नउमार्ने भएकाले उनको ठाउँमा नयाँ प्राध्यापक ल्याइयोस् भनि संकायका प्रमुखलाई चिठ्ठी लेखेकी थिएँ । पछि मैले हामी महिलाहरूमा किन आक्रोश छैन, हामी महिला अधिकारका सतही कुरा मात्र किन गर्छौं अनि पितृसत्ता जरैदेखि उखल्ने खालको कुरा किन गर्दैनौँ भन्ने आसयका लेखहरू पनि लेखेकी रहेछु। आक्रोशित नहुनुको कारण हामीमै रहेको महिलाद्वेशी, पितृ र पुलिङ्ग पुज्ने सोच हो पनि भनेकी रहेछु। तर आफु र आफुजस्तै अरूलाई हानि गर्ने सोच र परम्परालाई कोहि किन मलजल गर्छ भनेर बुझ्न मलाई अझ समय लाग्यो। त्यस्तै, आफुले प्रतिकार भनेर बुझ्ने कार्य अरूले नगर्दैमा उनीहरूले ‘केहि गरेनन्’ भनि आलोचना गर्न मिल्दैन भन्ने थाहा पाउन मैले सामाजिक न्याय, क्रान्ति र आन्दोलनहरूबारे झन् अध्ययन गर्नुपर्यो । यस क्रममा म आफैँमा निहित पितृसत्तात्मक र महिलाद्वेशी सोचसँग पनि परिचित भएँ।

यसरी आफ्नै विगतका लेख, अनुभव, अध्ययनलाई नियाल्दा महिलाहरूको मुद्दाबारेको मेरो बुझाई क्रमश: बदलिएको पाउँछु । मैले आफ्नै प्रश्नका उत्तरहरू खोज्ने क्रममा अनपेक्षित उत्तरहरू फेलापर्नुको कारण बुझ्नथाले । कसले के भनेर नेपाली सामाजिक वृत्तमा ताली र गाली खायो भन्दा पनि त्यो भनाइले के अर्थ राख्छ भन्नेतिर मेरो रूचि बढ्यो । मलाई लाग्छ, म प्रगतिउन्मुख नारीवादी (‘फेमिनिस्ट इन प्रोग्रेस’) हुँ त्यसैले आफ्ना नयाँ सिकाई, भोगाई र पढाई अनुसार मेरा विचार परिवर्तन भई नै रहनेछन्।

पन्तको लेखप्रतिको मेरो विमति त्यसकै उपज हो । मैले जति वर्ष नेपाली पत्रपत्रिकामा नलेखेर बिताएकी छु त्यति नै समय वा अझ बढी पन्तले विभिन्न छापा र पछि डिजिटल पत्रपत्रिकाहरूमा महिलाहरूको मुद्दामा कलम चलाएकी छिन् । उनका धेरै लेख सामाजिक कुरीतिका विरुद्ध र महिलाका पक्षमा भएता पनि तिनमा गरिएका तर्कमा सामञ्जस्यता पाईंदैन । जस्तै, सोफिया थापाको गीत ‘नो ब्रत प्लिज’ बारे लेखिएका यी दुई लेख: यसरी पनि हुन्छ परिवर्तन (नागरिक)संस्कार र संस्कृति महिलाले मात्र जोगाउनुपर्ने (नारी) । हिन्दु धर्मका कतिपय रीतिरिवाज र चाड (जस्तै- ऋषिपञ्चमी) प्रतिबन्धित नै हुनुपर्छ भन्ने म ठान्छु तर पन्त तिनलाई नयाँ ढङ्गले व्याख्या गरेर महिलाको पक्षमा सुधार गर्नसकिन्छ भन्ने विचार राख्छिन् । सायद हामी दुवैले खोजेको अन्तत: पितृसत्ताको पतन नै हो तर त्यो लक्षमा पुग्ने बाटोबारे हाम्रो बुझाई फरक छ। यो भनिरहनु पर्ने कुरा होइन तर जसरी एउटै घरमा हुर्किएका दुई व्यक्ति फरक स्वभावका हुन्छन् हामी महिलाहरू पनि एक अर्काका प्रतिलिपी होइनौं । हाम्रो नारीवाद विभिन्न खाले हुन्छ । त्यसैले पुरूषहरूले फरक कुरा गर्दा ‘वैचारिक संघर्ष’ हुने तर महिलाहरूले तर्क-वितर्क गर्दा ‘महिलाको शत्रु महिला’ हुने भन्ने हुँदैन ।

अहिलेलाई मेरा ‘दुई शब्द’ यति नै ।

नमस्कार ।

Work spaces

I like the arts library. When it is not crowed and when I can seat at my favorite spot, a chair next to a large window overlooking Uetliberg and the seamless vehicle traffic below. On a clear day, its likability increases. The view of the mountains on one side, partly blocked by the Prime Tower and the yellowing forests on the other side go well with a box of salad that I am forced to eat not out of choice, but principle. Food must never be wasted. As I unwillingly chomp the green leaves, mix it with feta for taste and dig down to find edamame and finally get to the quinoa, thinking ‘This is too healthy for my taste’ I find myself immersed in the present. I am aware. The white smoke coming out of a long cement tower, the airplane paths across a deep blue sky, and the bee buzzing around me. I am grateful for the view, the day, the warm Dashain feeling in the atmosphere, this experience. High on parilo gham, I decide not to ruin my mental health over this. What will be will be. There are greater tragedies in life than being forced to work on a paper for the umpteenth time.

Back in the library, the rays of the sun cast shadows in a different direction. It is a promising day without human interaction. I strike two bongs in the hallway without overthinking the act. The vibe of the arts library contrasts to the energy generated by students in smart casuals at the law library. What draws me to the arts library is also the yearning for what could have been. The unknown possibilities in life upon pursuing the arts where ‘language is a virus’ can be casually scribbled beneath the stairs. Not every sentence has to begin and end with hegemony. Language can be a virus, infectious, pointless. There are no boxes that thinking has to be outside of. Boxes need not exist. Boxes can be smashed into bits and their parts displayed as provocative arts. Why construct if the point of everything is to deconstruct? There is an allure of the possibility of freedom from the political correctness of ideas, thoughts, analyses. Then I notice an ongoing exhibition titled ‘The need for arts to change the world.’ The artists have chosen their chains too. There is no escaping what one is supposed to do, to include, to omit, to see, to write, and to be. There is no escaping the agony inflicted by the possibility of a chosen trauma never coming to an end.

The shrink

It was a good day by all accounts. She had a productive day at work. Later in the evening, she joined her colleague and headed to the gym. To celebrate the loss of a few hundred calories they decided to treat themselves to a pizza. The guy at the counter insisted that they get also order chocolate cookies for dessert. “Girls love it,” he coaxed. They were not convinced. Yet for some reason he added a cookie for free. “You will love it and come back for more tomorrow!” he said as they left with the pizza box.

Overlooking the skyline of Zürich sprinkled with churches, two distinct towers of Grossmünster and the Bahnhof Enge at a distance they relished the pizza. A few people stood in front of them talking pictures and chattering away in English. The memory of this evening, she knew, would stay with her for a while. But there was no point in revealing it all. The pizza was soon over and then they walked downhill towards the city making orgasmic sounds as the soft chocolate cookie melted in their mouths.

Down at Central, the hurtling sound of the tram sounded more melodious to her ears than usual. The blue and white trams looked beautiful in the yellow neon light and for the first time she felt as though Central actually lived up to its name. It looked busy just like anything named Central is expected to be in any city. They crossed the road, walked by the Limmat and she could not help but blurting out loud, “I don’t know if it’s the kondi or the pizza but it feels good.”

“It’s definitely the pizza,” her colleague replied with a laugh.

She was not quite sure. Maybe it was the combination of the pizza, the heavenly cookie, the stretching of body parts that she never knew existed and the company. Or perhaps it was just the feel good time of the month.

Despite having an unusual weekday she slipped into the routine of watching stand-up comedy videos that rarely made her laugh back home. As the clock struck 12 she got off her bed, walked to the main entrance door to make sure she had locked it. She put her hand on the aluminum door handle, walked past the shoe rack and noticed her silhouette on a large kitchen window. The routine of this last chore of the day struck her like a bad memory from the past. Walk to the door, check, notice the silhouette and crawl into bed. Then she could almost feel a dark cloud of existential crisis heading her direction from the black piano on the other end of the apartment. Door, window, shadow. The routine of numbing all senses to avert loneliness. Exercising for sanity. So-called higher education. Summer angst. The pointlessness of life. This chosen trauma. The impending winter of despair. The love of life. For what? To what end?

She dodged the cloud by taking a left turn into her room. “Not today,” the shrink within told her. Today, she needed sleep.

शहरमा एउटा मानिस

He got on the tram from Rathaus, paused after having climbed the steps and moments before the door closed, looked outside and asked, “By the way, चामलको चाहिँ के गने? ” (What do we do about the rice?) Within seconds, the man transformed from just another passenger to a person of interest. Clad in a brown-shirt, blue Nike sneakers, and a baseball cap he got off at the main station.

“Did he say चामल or सामान?” I asked her.

“I heard चामल” she replied.

So चामल it was then.

The sheer joy of hearing a stranger speak Nepali in Zurich to express concern about our favorite thing: rice.

#शहरमा एउटा मानिस

For the love of cows

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Schau mir in die Augen, Grosse or Look me in the eyes, Big. (literally)

It’s been a while since I quit my job at the newspaper. But I still start my day by skimming through the papers even when I do not understand the language. So here’s a picture published in 20 Minuten: News Von Jehzt (News of now /Current News), a morning newspaper the size of Saptahik or Shukrabar in Nepal, you can pick up at tram/bus stops or in the buses and trams for free. This paper, along with another one people get to read in the evening is more similar to our Sandhyakalin than Kantipur.

This picture caught my attention yesterday for the obvious reason, it depicts the literal love of cows. Or perhaps it’s just a show of love for these animals because cows, making promises to farmers for better milk prices, subsidies are all integral to Swiss politics.

And after months of ‘thinking’ of blogging something about this new journey of mine am glad this cow made me actually do it. So, Hoi from Zurich,  a rich, self-contained bubble in the larger European bubble called Switzerland. I will, hopefully, write more about my experiences here in the days to come.

Willkommen in Zurich

Like everything in life many of us, including me,  are incapable of realizing the value of what we have until we lose it. The smartphone, for instance, is one of them. Its value lies not just in being smart but in being a tool of engagement, distraction when one is alone. And if it primarily used for taking pictures it becomes all the more important. It acts as an effective way to distract ourselves from the sights and sounds around us. With a phone, the framing of a scenery, the goal to capture two swans forming the shape of a heart with their necks and beaks just in time, the view of snow falling gently on your coat on an April morning (because April, they say, apparently does what it wants) gets more of your attention that the sight of  kissing couples. The thrill of capturing things just in time dilutes the emotion that makes you feel like you are like Rani (from Queen) on her honeymoon alone. And no, you do not have Lisa Hayden as the cleaning staff or otherwise. Neither can you make friends in a day and expect anyone to offer to show you around. One has to get lost first to find oneself and the direction one is supposed to walk on, both alone. That is how things work.

A paper map helps. A smartphone would have been of greater help. People help you too if you go and ask them for directions. But when you are frantically trying to open the tram door from the outside there might be no one to push the button from inside.  On other occasions, a banker in a suit or a woman at the tram stop might ask if they can help you in any way even before you say anything. Still, there are degrees of helpfulness. The locals will get defensive about unfriendly laws that do not even allow foreigners to get a SIM Card before registering with the police (who of course are friendly). A friendly state is supposed to be forgiven for the hassles it creates, apparently. The foreigners, nevertheless, will be sympathetic. Reading a book about this country, its culture, its people will definitely help. When it becomes apparent that one’s relationship with the new people you’ve just met cannot go past certain things, the books help you understand that the problem isn’t you. It’s just a different place, culture and could feel like an extremely sad place.

People here on the spit street too. Maybe you notice such things because you don’t have a phone. Or they throw the cigarette stub on the street even if the dustbin is right next to the bench they are sitting on. And there’s a drawing of a smiley face with “Fuck me” written on it along with graphic sexual male organs at the Waldhaus Dolder station which is apparently an area where the rich people of Zurich reside in addition to what they call Goldcoast along Lake Zurich. The vulgar wall art, if you can call it so, has been there since the day I arrived. No one’s erased it. Yet, at times street graffiti (mostly ugly) look like the only connection to ‘real’ world. Else, the beauty of this bubble can at time be suffocating or it can feel pointless when a person is on one’s own.

 

 

 

 

Glamourising the grind

If only it was so easy to do journalism: reveal people’s hypocrisies with ease and get away with it unscathed

JUL 17 -One of the good things about being a journalist is that your character often makes it to the movies. A nosy reporter treading a minefield of egos in the newsroom and upsetting or threatening the protagonists outside are everywhere to be found. The pen and the camera, it seems, is still mightier than the sword in the imagination of moviemakers. Journalists, of course, know better.

The latest addition to the list of movies that have a journalist among its main characters comes from Bollywood. In Dil Dhadakne Do—a dull peek into the unrelatable lives of extremely rich Indians—Farhan Akhtar plays a journalist stationed in Egypt. Sunny, his character in the movie, reads books in his cabin while on a luxurious cruise while the rest waste their time gossiping. And as if that was not enough to set him apart from the usual male Bollywood protagonist, he is a feminist.

“What gives men the right to think that they have the power to give ‘permission’ to women to do anything?” he asks. For a film industry habituated to selling the most regressive of roles for women, such dialogue definitely breaks new ground. But lest you forget, he is only doing what a journalist is supposed to do: ask difficult questions and inflict the comfortable.

If only it was so easy to do journalism: reveal people’s hypocrisies with ease and get away with it unscathed.

To expect Bollywood, which thrives on the notion that the audience come to the theatres to ‘escape’ reality, to do any better, however, would be stupidity. In any case, a well-dressed and widely travelled character, who is almost always a photographer (think Ranbir Kapoor in Yeh Jawani Hai Diwani) is not the staple Bollywood journalist. An interesting research on the popular portrayal of journalists in Bollywood over a 30-year period from 1981 to 2011 shows that the five most common stereotypes played journalists in the movies are romantic companions, glamour chasers, investigative superheroes, power magnates and brainless characters.

In Bollywood, being what it is, the focus is more on the singing, dancing and seduction skills of journalists. One must invest more time in chasing one’s love interest than in chasing stories. Reporting can wait, always. Sharukh Khan, an Air India Radio journalist, dancing dangerously atop a moving train in Dil Se is an example. Even so, lovers live. Investigative superheroes, on the other hand, are either ‘martyred’ or attain the pinnacle of popularity and power real-life journos can only dream of.

Of late, television scriptwriters in Mumbai have taken an interest in the lives of journalists too. In April this year, Sony aired a series called Reporters in which viewers get to see a decent number of female journalists in the TV newsroom. Who knew that Indian television could envision women stepping outside the chaukath of their houses and facing graver moral dilemmas than the kind one faces after adding excessive salt in the daal? That’s the only good thing about the series. The bad news is, Reporters is an extremely poor copy of the Aaron Sorkin series The Newsroom.

In one of the early episodes of Reporters, the female protagonist tells her boss at an editorial meeting that she is disappointed that a man who once stood for fearless journalism has now sold out. Such abundance of drama would make anyone wish to be in the newsroom.  If only people went around risking their jobs by speaking the minds! Zoom out and here’s what happens in real editorial meetings: journalists drag themselves out of bed reluctantly to report on what they are working on to their seniors.  Then they leave the room muttering about the futility of it all, without fail. In case a reporter has a bout of idealism, she gets a gentle reminder about the difference between working in a private news company and writing fiction.

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No wonder the take home message of a scathing review of Reporters in firstpost.com is: it’s better for TV producers “to stick to making something they are good at—emotional dramas which are a deadly mix of over acting and sexism—than pretending to be ‘hard-hitting’.” The biggest failure according to the review is that the makers of the series have not done any homework to depict the nuances of journalism. Given the long history of Indian journalism and the upheavals the media has seen, there should have been no dearth of inspiration.

Closer home, however, it seems as though moviemakers do not think that fictional journalism would be interesting enough to watch on the silver screen. After all, if media reports are anything to go by, the Nepali journalist has been stripped of any glamour that might still be synonymous with the profession elsewhere.  The portrayal of a Nepali journalist, as reported by other journalists on TV or in the newspapers, is that of person who does not get to either sleep well or eat enough on time. The resultant bad state of health is further compounded by the perennial lack of money. Reports on the sexism women journalists face in newsrooms filled with men and while out reporting are equally depressing. The other, more conspicuous reason could be: every other person in Nepal seems to ooze with the confidence of being able to do a better job as a journalist. The lack of respect journalists command in society could be another deterrent for their onscreen presence.

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Even so, the protagonist of Rekha Thapa’s 2014 movie Himmatwali is also a man in the media. Guess where he works? Forget the daily grind of journalists working for Kantipur or The Kathmandu Post, Himal or Nepal or the Himalayan Times and the hundreds of FM stations all over the country plus the handful of television stations. They don’t offer all that action heroes are entitled to. Therefore, he works for Wikileaks in the US and has come to Nepal after killing a man there, hiding from American authorities.

Unbelievable you might say, but journalists definitely relish watching their onscreen versions now and then. Whether it be the ‘ideal’ journalism pursued by Emily Mortimer in the The Newsroom or Farhan Akhtar, who speaks up against patriarchy, they are all a good break from the mechanical rush to file stories. For people who have a more boring job in the newsroom of dotting other people’s i’s and crossing their t’s it could even serve as a much needed reminder that they too are part of the hypothetically ‘glamourous’ world of journalism.

Sense of an ending in Kathmandu #NepalEarthquake

With the recent devastation of the historic national heritages, I have developed a new sense of loss

The Laxminarayan Temple in front of the Garuda is no more.

The Laxminarayan Temple in front of the Garuda is no more.

KATHMANDU, APR 27 – This is undoubtedly the worst possible time to admit this. But given the times we are living in, there is no better time to acknowledge it.

I have always felt uneasy with the portrayal of the Kathmandu Durbar Square as the face of Kathmandu. Not that I have not spent innumerable mornings, afternoons and evenings loitering aimlessly at the Square. It is not as if I have not spent many hours sitting at the Maju Deval facing different directions depending on my mood either: facing the buildings behind when not in the mood to look at people, a different side not to disturb lovers or just staring ahead at the people, feeling the wind and watching life go by. On different steps of the Deval and the surrounding temples, I have met different friends to discuss different issues: a career, development, relationships and death, and unwillingly gulped down many cups of tea.

Still, my question has always remained: must we always justify our love of Kathmandu in relation to the cup of tea we sipped on the steps of the Laxmi Narayan temple? Does all writing about Kathmandu have to justify one’s love of the Durbar Square or situate itself in the alleys of Asan? What about the Kathmandu beyond the stretch of the stone-paved path from Juddha Salik to a temple called the small Pasupatinath? On other days, when discussion on Twitter inadvertently veered towards accusing ‘Kathmandu’ of not doing this or that, I have wondered what Kathmandu is. Is it a collection of white buildings inside Singha Durbar? Is it Baluwatar? Or is it the millions that live in tiny rented rooms in the city or migrants from elsewhere who now have a ghar in Kathmandu? Can the city be what it is by excluding any one of these?

The end of an era: Dharahara is no more.

The end of an era: Dharahara is no more.

But when I first saw Dharahara missing from the city’s landscape, I was very clear as to what Kathmandu is or was. (more…)