Election Impossible!

Election Impossible!

Ladies and Gentleman!
 

The impossible has happened in Nepal. The evil has almost been defeated. The courageous people of Nepal, braving the roadside booby traps and threats of violence, marched out in great numbers (supposedly highest in its history) and voted for the "same change" we all have been advocating every election. If the Nepali celebrities (aka Journalists) in twitter are to be believed, we have just planted the seeds of peace again. Yes, seems like a deja vu but that is our model democracy at work - where we vote for the same people again and again!

Frankly, I haven't really followed Nepali politics since last year, when Nepal's own favorite son, Obama, crushed his opponent in all the swing states and caused a frenzy in the streets of Kathmandu and Facebook alike. But when I saw our native to-be-savior, Gagan Thapa (GT), come up with colorful political manifestos supplemented with the rap duo, Girish and Pranil, I knew it was the change I was craving for. Previously, I had grossly underestimated GT, for his loyalty to a party that required a minimum life expectancy of 200 years, seemed illogical. But then, GT pulled off a heist through his marriage. I had always thought him to come with a more pensive solution, where GT would join hands with the so-called disillusioned youth, like the ones from the KUKUR party and be a hit among the KTM bourgeois, zombified with their smart phones and I-pads. Oh well!

So, just like our politicians, who visit the rural villages and forgotten mountains during the last month of the election, I have been visiting several states of US of late, where a group of disillusioned young, Nepali absentee voters (nearly 12 million I am told by UN estimates) live in posh neighborhoods, programming like automated robots, and contemplating whether they should get US citizenship or not. This group is immensely concerned about Nepal - for any change in government might transform the law so as to claim rights to their ancestral wealth. The bigger disillusioned group are rotting behind the counters of the gas stations in Texas, dish-washing in restaurants in New York, or getting tanned in Ocean City every summer where they day-dream everyday that the "Dream-Act" is no more a dream. Thanx to Obamacare, the republicans have found a more delicious fodder. 

The enlightened scholars in some rich Universities strive to be different. They host events by and for Nepalis, inviting washed up personnel and politicians from the bygone era, in a desperate measure to prove that Nepal has as much to offer as India and China, beyond our usual libidos of Everest and Buddha. Let me out a secret, my friends : I hate this third group the most! (Hey! its "candid verses" for a reason). No, not because they host these events, because they always order Indian food to these events. 

At the helm of every free and fair election in Nepal, is one person: JIMMY CARTER - whom we've made a vanguard of our democracy.

Poor chap! he's made it a point to land in Nepal every election. Smeared in vermilion powder and 200 lbs of garland, he must think it is Holi every time he lands. He barely has adjusted to the time-zone; they usher him to myriad villages around Nepal in less than 24 hours, where five girls in each village have rehearsed to put 200lbs of more garlands on him. Imagine the parents of these girls, having to bribe the district CDO, to make sure they get to touch the white guy (secretly hoping he'll spare some pocket change, but to no avail).

What else can he do? He's opened a god darn Peace Center in Nepal, that provides employment to frustrated US returnees, who couldn't land a job despite doing an internship at the world-bank. These are the intelligent "donor darlings," who have extensive experience at the grass-root levels. These are young soldiers of peace that will ensure voter participation through their dollar-fueled  multimedia campaigns. Did you know, some of these damsels even made it as far as the neighboring KTM villages to preach about the importance of voting, despite difficulty walking in their office heels. And hear me out: They did all this by talking to the locals in Nepali! Darn - I'm impressed!

Poor Carter! It won't be long before he leaves proudly acclaiming victory on behalf of all Nepalis through the free and fair election that will ensure peace and prosperity. Little does he know, as soon as he leaves, the swords will be out on him. Journalists will deride his failure to prevent violence in the remote-far west. The political parties, who lose by a landslide, will cry foul and evoke conspiracy theory, probably tying Carter to be a RAW agent or something. The NGOs that didn't cash in will call him interfering with Nepal's internal issues. I might just blame him for spreading the rumors of canceling the DV lottery!

But I'd like to give him a break! It is bad enough that he is recently voted as the worst president in US history. The dude is loyal to Nepal - more than Obama. At least he comes back every time to make sure the people have democracy here: where they get to vote at least once. At least he makes our seemingly democratic election impossible, possible! [originally in sajha.com]

Emotional High!

Emotional High

A few weeks ago, I read this article about Nepal being one of the least-emotional-countries in the world. As I read, my hands shook, my face winced, and my heart began to palpate --those emotional cells firing in all cylinders. I guess someone needs to invite these "Gallup" personnel to Nepal and get them the authentic taste of potpourri of emotions displayed in our streets everyday. Across all ages, gender, ethnic, and political groups, the emotional outbursts are so prevalent that it feels integral to our national unity--maybe the only thing that binds us together as Nepalis, dare-I-say! 

Well, you might argue that those are mere negative outbursts coerced by our poverty and political strife and not a true measure of tangible and intangible emotions in a society. I have to disagree. I think we're a country on an emotional-high!

 For starters, I am a very emotional person. This wasn't quite clear when I was in Nepal because I had to suppress my emotions throughout the school years in the hope of getting a good "Character Certificate." However, it was evident on my first night in US, when I cried my heart out. No--It was not because I had to leave Nepal for the very first time, but my family's acquaintance who picked me up at the airport dropped me in his empty apartment and went off to work for the night. Unsure whether I could drink water from the tap, food from the fridge or the cold milk lying around, I spent the night in extreme agony, a prelude to my undergraduate years. Thus, on my many future trips to the airport to pick up new Nepali guys (Girls? -wishful thinking!!), I made sure that they would not experience such a plight. So, if I had to leave them alone at home, I made sure a pack of Marlboro and a bottle of vodka was within their vicinity. :)

It is suffice to infer that I also have a very emotional family. My Mom, for instance, fears for my life in the east coast if she hears about a gunshot in the west coast. My dad might pretend to be stoic at times, but I remember how he sulked one whole Dashain cause I had forgotten to greet one of his far-distant-relatives. The neighborhood isn't any better. I remember an incident when my cross-eyed friend got beaten the shit out of him because the so-called Dada thought he was being stared at. It didn't help my friend's case when he pleaded truthfully that he was gawking at a girl, who also happened to be a crush of the Dada. Emotions flared further when the girl's family found about the secretive-romance between the two. Forget people for a while, the Nepali animals are equally emotional. My neighbor's feared "Alsation" has bit more than a dozen neighbors and innumerable fruit and vegetable vendors over the years for simply using the road.

But I have to admit not all "Nepali" emotions are equal. The emotions take a whole new meaning for Nepalis in US when confronted on Mount Everest and Buddha--the only things we are genuinely proud about. The issue of eating beef, returning to Nepal, and the progress of Indians/India also irks us a lot. While most of us also have an inherent emotions about our ethnic group and caste, we resist to display this in public and instead resort to frittering away these emotions with our keyboards. It is implicitly understood now that a Nepali party is not authentic unless there are a few punches thrown and our beautiful "national language" spoken. 

Then there are politicians, both at home and abroad, who give emotional and arousing speeches spontaneously. Jees! if only they were half as emotional while working for the public. The only politician, who I seriously doubt has any emotion is Prachanda. The feared one has made a habit of displaying public emotions once too often. That is a big, red flag. But then he is also a slithering con-man. I mean seriously! he's been able to con his own party cadres, the journalists, the nepali people, the monarchy, UN monitors, and foreign donors all at once. That almost makes Kaushal Niroula seem like a court-jester.

Now that I have made a strong case for our emotions, how can we change the view of the Gallup that CNN is so obsessed with. There's only one solution. Start a White house Petition today! I am sure there are more than 100,000 emotional Nepalis who can challenge the distorted emotional state of our country in the US media. [originally in sajha.com]

Flu Musings & Occupy Baluwatar!

Flu Musings & Occupy Baluwatar!

So yes - I got the dreaded flu.*Sneeze* The epidemic that usually usurps my immune system every other year couldn't have been more ironic this year. Sometime late September, HR sent out a memo requiring all employees to be vaccinated  or sign a non-consent form. As usual, our workplace was divided  - the devout majority sided together and refused to be vaccinated suggesting it would spread cryptic diseases including control of our minds. Mocking them, I took the needle. Flash forward a few months---I got one of the biblical plagues - nose that is more watery than any taps in KTM,  thorns protruding in the inner lining of the throat, and splitting headaches.

 Worse of all, I became the laughing stock of my colleagues with their constant "I TOLD YOU SO" looks.Perhaps I got what I deserved - putting undue faith in Science. So, now I am secretly praying the soon-to-be retreat be held in Minnesota or North Dakota, where these assholes would freeze their asses off in unprecedented sub-zero temperatures. 

When you're cold, tired, and sick, there's no comfort than skyping with your family:"So what is the temperature there today?" 

My father asks wrapped up cozily in his bed in KTM."About 40 --Today has been warm relatively " I reply feeling slightly dizzy."40?? That's warm but nothing compared to Sydney --its 47 today" quips my cousin.*Sneeze*. 

A timely one, to bring some undivided attention back to me "Try--Jwaano. Wait you get Jwano there?" "Only "Jawlo" for a few days"" "Gargle with turmeric, water and salt --Twice Daily" "Try "barring" your mouth for a few days"" The advice come in incessantly.  Someone said it right. You can only be a Nepali if you're a self-prescribing doctor. 

A while later, my eyes widen when I see one of my USMLE-striving doctor friends come online. After relaying my trauma, he prescribes the obvious: "A spoonful of Rum, honey, and hot water." Finally, a pragmatic doctor when you need one! Feeling better already, I ask Dr. Smarty Pants what he's been up to and when he's coming over. He says that he's busy with #OccupyBaluwatar these days. 

Ahh! the "happening" movement. KTM-duites are suddenly very concerned about violence against women or so it seems. I am trying to remember - is this really the first time our government has ignored the probes into murders, loot, rapes, and mayhem? I think not. But hey!  Anything for a change. But I am more skeptic about Dr. Smarty Pants cause to revolt. I question his newly found "Guevara" instincts."Take a look at this --" He sends me a photo shouting slogans beside a beautiful damsel (not-in-so-much-distress). Ah! the hidden agenda. I guess everyone has one. I tease him a while and inquire about rest of the crew of the occupation --those seemingly well to do folks of KTM.  

Dr. Smarty Pants is suddenly enraged "Except for a few victims, rest are show offs -those NGOs, actors, journalists, civil society leaders........." He suddenly sounds like a politician "These are the same people that shout all day, go home, order tea and massage from little girls they've enslaved, and yet go around parading about women's equality and empowerment. Shameless Bastards!" "How about you Doctors?" I inquire. 

"We're different ---Show me one doctor that is such" came his blunt reply. Indeed, I couldn't. The universal panacea to all our problems:. It's not me. It's not us. Nobody in my family is corrupt, sexist, or racist. Its them. *Sneeze* "Do you want me to make you something?" She touches my feverish head. I quickly think of my hidden agenda."Yes! the doctor has prescribed a home-made medicine!" "What is it?" "A GLASSFUL of Rum, honey and hot water." She rolls her eyes but doesn't complain and proceeds to make my cocktail. [originally published in sajha.com]

Politically Charged (november 2012)

 Politically Charged!

Neither the super-storm Sandy nor the north'easter was going to dampen my election fever this season. Even though I might never be eligible to vote in this country, or barely understand the difference between the congress and the senate  ( Shhh! for a long time I thought they were nicknames of  two parties..LOL), I watched the late night victory speech of my Homie in Chicago full with emotion and flurry of updates on my facebook and twitter account. I have never felt this close to a black dude since my days in college when I smoked together with my not-so-good-rapper-roommate. The fervor, as you might expect, was temporary. Obama disappointed me !

"Why?" you may ask! The beacon of unwavering support I and my Nepali brethren have provided: mobilizing our cousins and relatives in facebook, risking our job while fighting with our right-wing-nut-jobs colleagues at work, even pretending to share the amount of chores with our wives and gfs to be perceived that we treat them fairly at home have all gone to vain.I didn't want you to personally thank me, or sign that dream act at the podium. The least you could do was promise  to those of us, who have spent a decade in this country in between jobs ( community college and the gas station) to make ends meet and gulp down beer, also a path to some kind of haven. But Nada!

I also don't think he knows we have a global coalition of Nepalis behind his back. My cousins in Australia, my uncle in London, and my parents in Nepal were glued to their TV sets cheering for "Mr.-70%- of- world -loves- me". Unfortunately, my parents bore a droopy look. No no! They are OK with the 20 hour power cut they're expecting this winter season. They had been following the election in FOX News Network. Dangerous combo in Nepal. Soon, all the political pundits (aka all the Nepali friends/family) started to update the election in real time in more in-depth analysis than Wolf Blitzer at CNN. I am surprised how well informed our Nepali friends are. They know the background of each candidate:  their worldly views, their stand and possible stances, their social and religious views, even the names of their siblings, children, and  family pets.

I am tempted to think, how wonderful it would be, if we Nepalis were also as engaged at our own political process with the same fervor. Perhaps, we could make a difference then....

"Sabai CHOR Netaharoo!!!" Interrupts my dad unable to hold his beaming smile learning about Obama's insurmountable lead.

My freshman cousin in Wisconsin updates " Yay! for gay marriage, legal marijuana, and more women in politics!" I lip-synch her update and relay the information to my parents.

"Eh! aba US pani Nepal jastai bhayecha!" But I think my Mom is just relieved that Dashain is over. Or she thinks this automatically qualifies me to receive the permanent residency. Whatever the case, I console myself with her conjecture. So much for the election!

 At least we, the Nepalis, can now focus on the real issue at hand --What to do this Tihar? Taas anyone? perhaps a dance party at Queens? But for me, I have a more pressing concern --taking my recovering "Sandy" hit  Maiya to see "Skyfall" at the aftermath of North'easter!

Romancing with Exotic Nepali Names

 Romancing with Exotic Nepali Names!

A global hysteria has gripped the Nepali communities of late.  A quick survey of the new-born of all my friends, family, and relatives in Facebook makes me wonder: Where the hell do they come up with these exotic names? Is there a prize for coming up with such names? What happened to the good, old names like "Ram"?

"That's so Pakhey" exclaims my cousin and is desperate for a "unique" Nepali name for her baby boy.

"Ram, (also pronounced Ryam) is a male sheep, is the most apt name for any Nepali boy today and its getting very exotic" I mock her.

She gets defensive immediately and explains how she's fearful of her child losing the Nepali culture and identity. Ah! So this is all to save our identity. Then it can't be limited to the name, can it? Certainly not!

The houses of any Nepali in a foreign land have these tell-tale signs: walls and space decorated with musical instruments like Sarangi, Flute, Madal along with Singing Bowls, Buddha Statues, Thangkas, and other "authentic" Nepali items. Interestingly, I don't know a single person that plays these instruments, let alone strives to learn it. Nor does anyone really know the history, significance or the symbolism behind these objects. Yet, by showing off these items, we've preserved our culture (Maybe the culture of showing off)!

The older generations that have emigrated are worse:  Forget tolerance, they incite racism/castism very early in children by segregating them in the name of preserving one's ethnicity. They preach about outdated beliefs and taboos many of which are relayed through Mahabharat & Ramayan (hindi serials mind you); Forget embracing, they consider mingling with Black/Hispanic kids a blasphemy (somehow whites are the lesser evils in this situation). Then they have the audacity to gloat about their superior nurturing practice among their friends in their so-called cultural gatherings, while shouting orders to their wives.

 Yo Rams (to be pronounced “Ryams”): If you're serious about teaching Nepali culture to your kids-- send them back to Nepal. Let them explore our culture through their lens; let them grow up in our broken political and economic system. Admit them to school where they get education the Nepali way (beating, bullying, and bandhs); let them build their immune system by breathing the KTM air. If not, please make their lives easier. Don't kid yourself by giving those unpronounceable names and exerting inane beliefs & rituals.

My cousin called me a few weeks later and told me she'd settled on a name. She said that she'd mulled on what I'd said.  "After all, I realized when they turn 18, they are going to go away and he'll always be an Aussie. I can't beat the “Nepali” into him" She lamented. I empathized and sympathized with her.

"AJ..Not AJAY is his name" She went on, "It’s a very exotic name here in Australia." She told me how she'd already got 52 likes in FB. Then a panic seized me. I tried to imagine my Nepali cousin named "AJ" The more I tried, those vivid freshman days in college began dancing in my mind. And my roommate AJ:  6' 3" that slept all morning, smoked pot all day, and rapped all night.

 Hopefully, my cousin, AJ, will turn out to be a bit different even if he can't keep up with the Nepali culture.

Disclaimer: The views above are strictly my opinion and by no means be taken as a measuring stick reflective of Nepali Communities. [originally published in sajha.com]

Not-So-Cute-Babies!

 Not-So-Cute Babies!

Is this the year of a telltale sign? My sister had a baby. A lot of my cousins gave birth to a lot more baby cousins. My childhood friends became proud fathers and mothers for the first time. The girl I had a crush in high school had an uncomfortable Caesarian. And then our neighbor’s daughter that unexpectedly eloped had a set of twins.

Am I really getting old or is it simply the manifestation of Zuckerberg’s masochistic hobby? When I see countless pictures uploaded meticulously in order from the bloodied inception to the poise of nurses in the emergency room; from the multiple shots outside the hospital to the drive home; and then from hundreds of friends and family holding the new born at different angles for the camera to the first suckling, I am tempted to comment: “SOMEBODY, PLEASE GIVE THAT BABY A BREAK!”

Isn’t anybody concerned about the psychological trauma this baby is going to experience later with all those camera flashes and loud-mouthed family? My Mom argues it is all for memory, but I am skeptic about this because I see more pictures of my Mom than the baby in any given album. Then, she goes on how cute the baby looks just like I used to: how it has my eyes, lips of its mother, nose of its father, hair of its grandfather (which means no –hair) and of course the animation of its grandmother.

This makes me nostalgic for a second until I realize she’s dead wrong: For starters, babies at inception aren’t cute at all- they only look awfully similar. Don’t judge me! Even my sister wistfully remembers how she thought her baby only resembled our primate-cousin than any cousin in our family. My nephew only got his pleasing look when he was about 6 months old. Because you could now obviously tell that he was not swapped in the hospital and belonged to our family.

But then why do hundreds of friends and family keep commenting how cute and adorable the baby looks right from the birth. I have a couple of theories: 1. They are doing what everyone is doing. It is in our genes 2. Subconsciously they are worried that their own babies will not be labeled as cute in the future. The latter I fear is everyone’s fear. But now here’s the catch: Since you’ve already used all those cute and adorable comments and whom it resembled during birth, what are you going to say when it lives to your frivolous expectation at 6 months? You are only left with the obvious “OMG! Your baby has really grown big.” What did you expect? It eats, sleeps, and cries. It cries when it wants to eat or poop. Such is the simple life of the baby!

But then, cuteness doesn’t necessarily correlate with sanity. Every baby, even the cutest one, comes with its own set of tantrums. My sister says she hasn’t slept more than 3 hours at a time in the last six months and my brother-in-law has become really cranky at work. Please do not blurt out that you can’t wait to play with someone else’s cute baby because you’re lying. Do you really have the time? Besides, I gather that my nephew has become a mischievious little monster poking everyone in their eyes who wants to hold and cuddle him. I knew he was going to get back for all those “birth-flash-trauma.”

Maybe you’re just right. Maybe I’m over-reacting a little here. If we are making all those comments not out of concern but simply out of compulsion, the question we should ask is: Do we really care about others’ children then?  The late George Carlin, let peace be upon him, famously quoted once “We don’t care about your children, because they’re YOUR children.” We can make comments though. Comments that make us feel good about ourselves and bode well for our future offspring. Maybe that’s a telltale sign.

[originally published in sajha.com]