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.