A Woman during Holi

Holi is the festival of colors. I taught this to class eight this year.

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Last year was my first Holi in Nepal after 5 years. I spent it under the moon with 40 other fellows-in-training. I hated not being able to play with water and colors while nearby, a lot of people at the Gokarna resort reveled with Edward Maya in concert.

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Coming back to this year, I was in the beautiful Terai city of Janakpur a day before Terai Holi. I accidentally booked a flight for later in the day. Because of this I could not play Holi in Kathmandu either. But right before I left for Kathmandu, a stranger put dabs of purple and pink on my forehead. I was strangely satisfied with those little dabs gifted with a good heart.

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At the Kathmandu airport, a taxi driver offered me a ride.

“Where are you going?”

“Thamel?”

“Or is it Lazimpat?”

“What is the cost?”, I entertained.

“You tell me where you want to go. Is it Swayambhu? It is Balaju”

He almost guessed my place. I might have given it to him and taken a ride in his taxi if he had said
Kalanki, which was where I was going. At the airport gate, I looked around. After reading a tweet about a tourist getting groped, I was scared to be out alone. I should have taken the taxi. But I looked around and people didn’t seem so hostile. Their faces painted and clothes wet, waited for the bus with me. When I finally got on a bus going to Ratnapark, I took the seat right behind the driver. I had a view of the whole bus and I could see what was happening inside and outside. This was a dream come true. Out and about in Kathmandu city during Holi.

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Many years ago as an adolescent I used to play Holi in a field outside my house. The field faced the galli that ran from the ring road to the hill hamlets beyond Syuchartar. During Holi I didn’t get out of that little galli (lane) that led to the ringroad highway. I felt safe and happy within the limits of the house, the field and the galli. Now and then a raucous of boys and men, whose faces were painted silver, while and black, would run through the galli. I was scared that the whole city must be full of them and never ventured out.

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Here I was in the bus. I was so happy to be witnessing a Holi-full Kathmandu for the very first time. Times must have changed. Instead of men with black and silver faces, I saw endless groups of young people in tainted t-shirts that were once white. There was a concert in Naya Baneshwor. I saw some more throngs of people. Some youth were taking selfies at the Maitighar Mandala. Some more revelers at Sahidgate where I got off.

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We are finally getting to what actually happened. At Sahidgate, there was a huge crowd of mostly boys waiting for a bus. I realized that the Tundikhel had some huge celebration with thousands of young people. I was scared again, but then told myself that people were busy having fun in their little or big groups, they needn’t put colours on passerby’s like me.        

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A Sajha bus to Kalanki eventually appeared. It seemed empty so I tried to hop in with the rest of the boys that did the same. Thankfully, not colour or groping on me yet.

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Volia! I got the women’s reservation seat. Yes, you are getting very close to what actually happened. Thus bus waited on for some more passengers. “There aren’t much vehicles today,” the driver explained. I looked out the window. Crowds of youth again. These scene made me realize that the youth are the power of this country. These young people usually huddle in schools, colleges, restaurants, futsals, Durbar Squares, tea shops, universities and offices. But during this Holi they came out and you could see their strength and synergy. I went back to that dreadful week in April in 2015 when the young people of Kathmandu helped bring the city back to normal brick by brick.

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During my reverie I didn’t notice that the two girls with painted faces sitting in front of me were having a problem.

“Ramrari basnu dai (Please watch how you are standing)”, the girl on aisle seat said to a middle aged man who was awkwardly standing next to her in the crowded bus. It seemed like he might have sat on her leg.

The man quickly took offense and hit back, “E, tapai lai ramrari basna pauda garo bho?” ("Why, you are having a problem because you got a good seat?")

The other girl raised her voice, “K bhanyou ra hamle, ali ramrari basnu bhaneko eta garo bho.” ("Why are you making a fuss? Please maintain some distance as you stand, we are a bit uncomfortable here")

The man stunned by a young girl talking back at him retorted, “Tapai ko ho ra ramrari basna paune. Yo sajha bus ho. Tapai baristha hora sajha ma ta sajha treatment huncha.” ("Who are you to be sitting so comfortable, this is the common bus. Are you some biggie? In the common public bus, you will be treated as the general common public."

The girl was boiling in rage.

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I remember having such rage as a teen. Once a group of men sitting lazily on the pavement hurled a bunch of balloons my way. I angrily picked up stones from the ground and hurled back. Such anger is useful sometimes. But this man seemed to be trying to prove he was right and the girl was wrong. Such incidents often happen when we ride in public vehicles. Personal space is non-existent on crowded working days in public vehicles in Kathmandu. People cannot really tell good touch  or bad touch when its not very clear. I had been a victim only a few months ago when a guy took advantage of a crowd getting on the bus and grabbed my butt. I took his hand immediately and deepened my nails into his skin and put his hand away from me, giving a cold stare back.  So here I was, witnessing a scene where the intentions of people may or may not be clear to the accused, the victim or the observer.

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At the last reply of the man, the whole bus laughed away thinking it was a nice joke. Almost all the men in the bus just laughed. This gave the accused the support to continue trying to bring the girls down.

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This is where I come in. I could not take the boys making a joke out of this situation. They seemed to have no firsthand idea of the things women have to go through while traveling in Kathmandu and now they were just unknowingly adding to the burden. I turned back and gave all of them in a very judgmental ‘Seriously, you guys’ stare. Then I stood up and told the both the man and the girl to cut it out. I could not clearly tell who was at fault, but I told the girls to calm down and told them it’s alright, getting angry would only make them feel more terrible at their plight. I asked other boys to make the man shut up. It was eventually over. When I got out the girls thanked me. I replied, “What to do, getting so angry just makes us feel worse.”

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What I was appalled at was almost all of the boys just supported that one man. It seemed like here was a single generation, probably my age or younger, not empathizing with a woman simply having problems in the bus. Instead, by laughing with the accused, they were naively adding salt to the wound. This blog post is especially for the men and boys in that bus and those similar. It’s ironical that you are complaining about why there is a women’s reservation seat while you are laughing at such an incident. I would like to appeal you to at least try and understand these girls’ plights. Lend a hand to carry their bags. Stay alert for the women in the bus. Show some kindness. It might be just the one nice thing you do that day.

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And to all public vehicle users, I have a simple solution to the bitter chaos while using a public vehicle. A recent article in a New York magazine says that it really helps to think or wish good things for your fellow travelers to make the ride easier. For example, if a baby is crying, the least you can do is wish for that baby to calm down. Not grumble but silently wish that the baby felt comfortable. Doing this adds positive vibes to the scene. I tried it and it worked a few times. So try that!

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Hope you had a terrific Holi and wish you a joy ride!

P.S. I would like to acknowledge the KMC for banning lolas (water balloons) during Holi. This has made the women’s week leading into Holi a lot less scarier.

On women leadership

Wrote this a few months ago.

The sun is shining finally after a cloudy morning. People are gathering in the school premise. There is a chautari in the middle and chairs lined up right next to it. There is a big table and some sturdier chairs behind them. At the front, like a temporary amphitheater audience space, lie benches. It’s the day of the selection of the School

Management Committee (SMC) members.

In the benches, men and women segregate in four columns. Women in two and men in two. They are the parents of our school children, here to witness the selection of parent representatives of the SMC. Immediately I am reminded of how this resembles the girls and boy’s seating behavior is class. In the podium space, I see men gathering. In the audience, I wonder which parents to approach first. More so I am confused as to whether to approach women or men. Women seem like a safer bet and I go talk to them. 

After trying hard to find a way to ask in the politest way possible, I come up with general ice breakers: “Namaste. Kata dekhi aunubhayo? tapai kasko abhibhawak ho? Tapaiko naani ko ho?” (Where do you live? Whose parent are you?)

“When does this start Miss? I was on time but I have been here for two hours and I am still waiting.” A woman asks me. I tell her that we need more attendants so we are waiting. We talk about her children and their performance in class. I walk about and repeat the routine with more parents. I try to identify whether I teach their children or not. There are some confused faces. Some happy and excited faces. 

Another woman tells me, “It is hard for a single parent like me to be a member of the SMC. I have a shop. I have to work both at home and in the shop for my kids and I cannot get involved outside of that.”

I dare not approach men for a while and sit with the women. But eventually I talk with two friendly looking men. One of them was a tenth grader’s father. We had a nice chitchat. Someone yelled to him, “Aren’t you going to join in as an SMC candidate?” He laughed it off. He later shared that he was going to compete in an SMC of a school much closer to his house where his other child studied.

I meet more parents. Two women turn out to have their girls in my class. I tell them how they have improved. It was a jolly conversation and I led them to the benches. I found out later that they were also candidates. I was happy and hopeful that their leadership interest would trickle down to their daughters.

There are speeches, rules, selection procedure...Three hours and some chiya guff with my colleagues later, there's some conclusion. They have selected women candidates for the SMC. These women share that some were coerced into giving up by other largely male leaders. They caved in because they thought they couldn't commit to all the meetings as they have all the household chores on their plates. Then they pride themselves for being quicker than men. Then they talk about how the men lead their selection process. Then it’s about how they should choose two more women because the men candidates are not being able to make a decision. They pride themselves again for not fighting and coming to an understanding. They also talk about how the SMC president should be a woman, just like the country's.  

Current President of Nepal was appointed amid the cries over the dissatisfaction with the citizenship rights provision for women. Some sources reported that the President herself said that Nepal is not ready for such rights. Seeing women feel empowered about the appointment of the woman president here firsthand was some sort of a relief. In the local level, since elections have not been held, there is not much record of the impact of local government officials who are women. In the lack of local activism and elections, the SMC seemed to have provided a stage for competition between parties. It was good to see the presence of women in such stage. As the day turned to night, most of the women were gone. Because I was ill, I had to leave too. But I heard that the men agreed on their candidate after a few more hours.

I am thankful that the day gave me an exclusive glimpse into how women candidates were selected for an important local committee position. I saw women being 'assisted' by men when they are trying to make a decision for themselves. I also saw some strong women who held their ground. I am yet to see what change they will bring. But for schools all over Nepal, could the appointment of women SMC members help move a step closer to reducing the gender gap?

Top five moments of 2073 (2016-2017) in pictures

I have made a lot of memories in my first fellowship year. It was quite the roller coaster experience. I wanted to share a few of my memorable experiences. Enjoy!

5. When we moved first into our placement home at Melamchi, it was a long day of gathering flooring material, curtains, groceries, cooking stove, etc. We were so tired at the end of the day that we forgot it was our co-fellows’ birthday that day. We tried to make up for it later on.

Just another dinner time in Melamchi: When other fourth cohort fellows visited us. I could not find our first dinner picture.

  4. For school sports day, I saw a lot of girls who came out to play volleyball. I was so happy to see them compete and I was cheering them all the way.

Eventually, the girls’ team went on to the district matches for the Presidents' Running Shield, outshining other schools in the Melamchi area.

3. This one is my favorite. I taught these boys some dance steps which I had learnt through my life. I used to dance with my cousin dressed up as a boy and I could use some of those moves and help a few first time dancers of class seven. It helped build connection and also helped me understand what connecting to the students actually meant. More importantly, I could be myself while teaching them. I wasn’t afraid of how they would feel about me showing some dance moves and goofing around. I saw possibility in them and they followed that path. Another highlight of this day was me trying to put lipstick on the shy girls of class nine who were also performing a dance.

The dream team during the school’s 43^rd Annual Function

 2. During Baldiwas (Chindren’s Day), the school team worked together to have a literally sweet ceremony. Teachers cooked kheer or rice pudding and chana for the students. There was also class-wise musical chair. Even the teachers had their turn.

My naughty class seven students helping teachers getting the masala ready for kheer

 

1. I am really happy with my class nine. I am the class teacher and I was able to work with them in a number of ways. They understand the importance of doing homework now. They have become more tolerant and collaborative. Their reading has improved. They seem ready for class 10. Here’s a glimpse of when we had our secret Santa event. We will fondly remember that day as when Richa Miss let all the special gifts fall on the floor and get damaged because they were collected in a meek bag. Whoops…But I really appreciate them forgiving me.  I apologized profusely and offered to buy them gifts. However, they decided they will keep what they got from their friends. 

Class 9: They did not follow the idea of 'secret' though, everybody knew who their Santa was beforehand! Can you find the unfortunate bag the gifts fell from?