An Expert in Anything and Everything!

Candid Verses: An expert in anything and everything!

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The mammoth twin earthquakes that shook Nepal only a few months ago seems like a distant blur of the past.It seems like Nepal has already recovered - without even allocating a single penny from the raised $4 billion dollars that sits precariously in the mouths of a handful of crocodiles. But those things barely concern us because we are, as the darling medias around the world has portrayed us - a nation of "resilient" citizens. We move on!

And what better timing to move on from a tragedy so morbid to a fodder that unites all of us in Nepal (I mean Kathmandu)- bashing India without any inhibition. What is pretty laughable is our political dimwits who couldn't take a dump in the morning without the blessing from Delhi are suddenly patriotic, unwavering leaders taking a strong stance against India protecting our sovereignty and constitution. In retrospect, we've gone back to the status quo - where we're not only bashing India, but giving legitimacy to the thousands of "Tharus" and "Other Madhesis" whom we've deliberately assigned as Indians and kept in servitude in the capital. Yes - we can now do that in the open. Congratulations!

I am quite befuddled which "expert" in the social media should I defer to for a candid analysis of our newly written, coveted constitution. If I read on my own, I might actually learn the truth - so  should I believe the black flag bearers of FB and twitter, who claim the constitution is the most oppressive in the world that victimizes rights of women and minorities? Or should I believe the patriots who say this is the most liberal of constitutions that has even included LGBT community and stretching further would make Nepal another Fiji. To the latter experts, no one in Nepal really knows where's Fiji - i think most of them think its a mountain in Japan - so please stop using that analogy.

Anyways, in all honesty, this is a futile debate about constitution.The bitter truth is we, the people of Nepal, just cannot live in harmony. The false sense of unison the earthquake provided has fast dissipated with incidents in Kailali and rest of the Terai and shown how quickly we revert back to our "real" selves and fighting tooth and nails to prove each other as being beneath (darker) from one another. Have you seen two Nepalis in Nepal or elsewhere form a formidable partnership? Yes  - I thought so too. Sorry Nepal, we just don't have a harmony gene, or else we wouldn't see the most educated leader of the country leave the sinking ship, brilliantly washing all the blood in his hands and expertly transferring to his ex-guru- the feared one!  I love how one conman ups the ante on the other!

What irks me most about this whole situation is that now I'll have to read a dozen op-eds everyday from the so called "experts" in the media outlets. And equally annoying status updates from my family, friends, and relatives in Facebook, who will all proclaim how just and progressive they are by bashing either India, Indian-looking Nepalis, or simply any Nepalis and provide an apt solution that will make Nepal prosperous. I am already nauseated!

And Nepal, as we know, is the country of experts. So, the journalists (celebrities) who are to report the incidents in unbiased fashion from the field will sit in a panel of political experts in the capital. Political pundits will be busy giving homeopathic solutions to cancer and diabetes in the social media. Politicians will be busy striking against medical institutions to save their investment just in case there's an impartial investigation. Doctors will be busy giving USMLEs. And social media will be busy forming the #hashtags.

But not to worry folks - there's a respite ahead: Dashain is around the corner. And by the time the festival ends, I am sure we'll have found a new tinder to light the jungle. Perhaps, there'll be a popular singer from SIKKIM who doesn't want to be called a Nepali. Or North Korea will proclaim Buddha as its own. Or even better, maybe Paras will have quit his marijuanic obsessions and come back as a yoga guru. 

How do I know all this?

I am a Nepali: An expert in anything and everything.

Aging not-so-gracefully!

Every morning, I stand in front of the mirror for a few minutes: examining myself hoping for my youthful vigor to return magically.

As soon as I switch on the lights, that first darn sign is revealing: my "Khappar" with the receding hairline -- C'mon Now! Onset this early? Some say it’s genetic, some say its stress, and some say it’s the Shampoo. Nepali doctors (aka friends, family and relatives who are experts in everything) have offered hundreds of homeopathic-solutions over the last few years to this inevitable fate, but to no avail. As the light from the energy-saving bulb illuminates, so do my two parallel streaks of wrinkles right across my forehead. I swear they were not there yesterday!

I quickly remember the facial cream my girlfriend bought me a few days ago that is supposed to revitalize my skin or whatever. Or at least it did to the celebrities flaunting on TV. How did she manage to put it on top of the shelf? I stretch with all my might barely able to reach it --the next frustration sets in. You see, I stopped growing vertically as soon as I hit puberty. I can't blame my parents for this because they tried multiple alternate therapies: they encouraged me to hang out with my "Tarzan" mama climbing trees, stealing fruits, and running away from dogs. My mom spoon-fed me tons of contraband calcium pills & Dabur Chyawanprash. And my Dad, just like my teachers, resorted to old-fashioned treatment every now and then: stretching my ears with all his might with the false promise of imaginary "MamaGhar."

I console myself thinking what the great-to-be philosopher (me) once copied "You only need to be tall enough to reach the ground." Ironically, there are other unwanted growths, in all tangents, secant and innumerable geometric shaped in both accessible and inaccessible of places: Hair protruding out from nose, ears and chest alike in most inopportune time as if they are going to sting someone you're having conversation with; the two lonely, thick eye brows aching for a reunion in the middle; the beard that is not satisfied with its territory and wants to take over the neck and make friends with the Adam's apple. But my gut feeling tells me there is a bigger concern in the gut itself: The horizontal ever-growing stomach!

It’s not like I don't eat healthy.  Slowly at first, and faster it seems every month now, it is continuously protruding out defying all odds to accomplish its mission: hide my own "manhood" from my normal range of view. When my girlfriend first scoffed at this beast, I got scared. I did the unthinkable. I spent hours (mostly minutes) doing the Ramdev exercises: breathing in and out in our living room. Then I quickly realized that this exercise only works on Ramdev himself. After constant nagging, I did the unimaginable. I started running (actually lazy walking) every evening. However, when she noticed that I began eating thrice as much as other dinners previously, she concluded perhaps it’s genetic as well and deemed it OK. Thus, I resorted to my old exercise routine: sinking in the chair, meditating (sleeping most of the time), and immersing myself in knowledge (TV) :)
I closed my eyes for a second to get a respite from the mirror. I hear her voice echo, "Why do you care about what others think? I like the way you are. I wouldn't have you any other way!" This brings smile to my face. I am geared up for rest of the day. I am one lucky SOB. It could have been much worse. "Much much worse" I mutter to myself as I reach for my glasses, whose power has been compounding every year. I glance back at the mirror.

Surely enough, it is much worse now: every little flaw amplified at least a hundred fold!

[Originally in sajha.com 05/09/12]

Stress of Going Home

One sleepless night, out of the blue, I decided to go home. Yes, just like that- barring any occasion or any agenda. So, I jumped out of the bed, surfed the internet, bookmarked few online deals and sent a few inquiries to Nepali Travel Sites.Having never made such impromptu decisions before, I felt liberated and empowered in the middle of the night.

 

Little did I know it was to be short-lived. Early next morning, a Nepali travel agent called me with an unbelievable fare "Dai, this is a great deal. But if you don't book it right away, we cannot guarantee this fare tomorrow!" He bluffed with a threatening tone. I readily obliged with my credit card. That evening I found an online fare $100 lower. And that's that!

 

The following evening I broke the homecoming news to my parents over our usual Skype conversation. Instead of the joyous surprise,  they showed signs of grimace. "Did you lose your job? Did you get laid off?  Why do you want to come home at this time? Do you know there's a  bird flu scare? Do you know the airport has potholes?" I breathed in a long sigh and told them i just wanted to come home for a change. "But what is the occasion?"

 

It took nearly a week of convincing that everything was fine. Finally, reluctant smiles returned to their faces. Next up: shopping for the family. Easier said than done!

 

"Don't bring anything for anyone here. Don't spend your money on useless stuff" My mom started her usual cliched lecture "Just bring chocolates. We'll distribute that to everyone. Maybe a couple of t-shirts for your uncles. Few lipsticks and nail polish for your aunts. You know they always expect. Don't bring shades of brown and black like you did previously. They'll laugh at me if you bring those" Right on! I'll try my best I said.

 

"Mama, can you bring a laptop for me? My 8 year old nephew confided me one evening "Everyone in school has one." The kid is good. I did not want to be un-Mama like. So, I said I'll bring one if he shares with his sister. "No! No! No! No!" my 6 year old niece shouted from behind "We need two." I can't bring two laptops for you guys I retorted. "Why can't you?" she inquired "If people can ring 2 I-phones, 2 tablets, why can't you bring two laptops?" I shut up for good!

 

"Coool bro. We'll hang out " My only remaining friend in KTM replies to my online message. "But what's the occasion. Getting married?" No!

 

"Looking for a girl?" No!

 

"Dating? No! 

 

"Not to worry boss. you know how it works here: First date, then set, then off with the jet, then you can mate..hahaha" He showed his prowess strengthened through the rap battles he's been involved recently.

 

"how about first mate, then everything else can follow?" I quipped.

 

"Damn bro. you've become so American" 

 

I enjoyed that. I was about to call it a night, when I got a call from one of my cousins here.

 

"Bhai, I heard you're going to Nepal. Can you take some things?" Sure Dai! What do you have?"

 

"Not much Bhai! few cell phones. a laptop. few pairs of shoes. And a couple of coats. I'll bring  them  first thing tomorrow morning."

I stopped using the words like "empowered" and "liberated" to describe myself. Never, not again!

To Stay or Not to Stay

In a seemingly theatrical Hamlet-like pose, I think aloud sometimes: To stay or not to stay!

It is a question that has plagued me from the very first night in the US of A. It does get forgotten often in the mundane mediocrity of everyday working life, but then it comes back vividly – through emotional story lines of Sajha threads (Darn you! Beehove_Me), inebriated conversations with high school friends, and even more so while Skyping with my aging parents back home.

But as Orwell often reminds me, not all parental emotions are the same. In fact, the emotions of my parents are quite tangent. No-No! don’t get me wrong. Like all parents, they love me to death. Or else why would they deny me an opportunity to talk with pretty prospects (buharis), shooting them down deeming not a good-fit for me without even consulting me. But hey! They probably know better. They stand as a testimony of the most unlikely of relationships themselves: an outspoken woman from the far-east and a balding quiet guy from the West. Who would have thought? I give props for forging such a lasting relationship spanning over 30 years. But that’s that. 

However, they have a good logic on why I should stay here. “You are too "Laato" (for this country) to return!” 

I had brushed aside this insult multiple times before. Common now! After all, I am educated in the USA. I am fairly intelligent with numerous half-baked ideas brewing in my head; passionate in both bed and beyond; and have callous Nepali nationalism fueled by friends working in world-bank, UN, and other international organizations. 

“How much does a packet of milk costs, do you know? Onion has become more expensive than the gold!” my dad uses his usual fear tactics.

So after dwelling for months, I make it to Kathmandu to test the waters. Fresh Off US (FOU), I use my networks wisely to contact my NGO friends and set up a meeting at Naxal’s Madison’s bar. They oblige after I insist the tab is on me. While fidgeting with his latest model of iphone, the first friend explains to me arrogantly, gulping down Carlsberg, on the frustrations of his job: his INGO team is in Europe and he has to work evenings to have meetings with them. He frowns on the tedious and boring nature of the job.

“Why don’t you quit then?” I ask. “Oh! But the pay is too good” he stares at my Nokia mobile I had borrowed from my dad to let my other NGO friend where we were. Perhaps he’d have a better insight. 

“Yah! Actually I make good money. The work is relaxing. I go and work as I please. I am the only guy that writes the proposals in English.” He laughs. They can’t even fire me. “What do you write proposals in?” I get interested. “Oh anything that brings in the money!” Last time the donors sent books”. That was a waste, he shrugs nonchalantly. And I scratched my head.

That night my Dad gave me a wry smile and asked “So, you think you can make it in the NGO here? I’m sure the pay is good and life is relaxing no?” I was honest and told him that I really didn’t know shit about how NGOs worked in Nepal. Perhaps, it isn't for me!

That evening, my mom also weighed in expertly “Bankaa kaam garr na ta!” while she served the delicious portion of kauli and quaati. My dad and I both gave her a stare to which she stared us back down. Perhaps I should try research institutions that work on fields that I actually graduated in?

Seated around a conference table, each of the faculty explained to me what they did (more like what they planned to do). Despite the international fund available, the projects hadn’t quite taken off the ground. Ah! lacking management. After listening long-winding individual anecdotes and stories, I finally weighed in the need of proper management. The leader of the pack known as “Sir” explained to me how the upstarts from US and Australia like me often returned and told them how they should do their job.”Unacceptable” I turned red as he went on the idealism of how we Nepalis should learn to use the resources available efficiently/sparingly. As he gave the sermon, the other faculty had turned red too. And I quietly slipped away.

A couple of days later, I attended my Dad’s college reunion at one of the hotels. Each of his college buddies gave speeches about their life, children, and nostalgia of their college youth making me smile. So, did my Dad. Then, suddenly he started recalling proudly the hardships my siblings and I had faced abroad and how we’d worked our way through to graduate and achieved unparalleled success in the US. He elaborated on our successes so vividly that he made himself break down in the podium and managed to break a few tears off his drinking buddies. I guess I kind of understood. I realized how important and difficult it must be for my parents to elaborate such successful stories of us to our relatives, neighbors, colleagues, and rest of the society. But for that sake of success, I probably need to stay here!

So to that dreaded question: to stay or not to stay? Hey! Why don’t I just visit often?

[Originally in sajha.com 03/11/14]