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| Kathmandu, Monday August 11, 2003 Shrawan 26, 2060. |
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Krishnaveer and national
allegory
By ARUN GUPTO
The metropolis, the valley, and its normalcy
depend on what happens on Prithvi national highway. For years and decades you witness the
drama of Krishnaveer out in the middle of the hills. The rain blocks the road and you end
up joking about the natural impediment. An acquaintance shouts on the phone, "Do not
go to Chitwan today, Krishnaveer has diarrhea these days." The other suggests to take
a flight and bump into Krishnaveer. These jokes certainly show how patient Nepalis are
even in such serious situations, but on the other hand, this also is a pathetic national
allegory.
There has been no alternative for the moody
hills and the narrow highway. There are no striving engineering ideas to permanently solve
this problem. On the one hand, the common Nepalis joke around helplessly, and on the other
hand, the fact remains that Nepal is a poor country and hence has no money to repair and
mend whatever infrastructures it has.
Krishnaveer reveals the national allegory. The
allegory tells of the inaptitude of the leaders who have nothing to do much except
engaging in the pre-barta (meaning here high level governmental talks and meetings)
situations. Pre-barta is like writing a preface or a foreword of a novel and never being
able to complete the story. The allegory tells how a tiny hillock (it is tiny made large
by our engineered minds of the politicians) can expose our failures. Krishnaveer exposes
our inability to make inroads into developments. There in the hills it mocks at our
administrative and technical incompetence. Krishnaveer exposes weaknesses, mediocrity,
recklessness, and our national greed.
For almost fifty long years people have
officially talked about this landslide zone and for all these long years the leaders have
been unable to do anything useful. People say that all this is deliberate or that so much
of money would be involved that no one dares to take honest initiatives.
If you personify the landmass between Kathmandu
and Mungling it would not be overestimating. Look how for the entire dry seasons, it stays
calm and inert only occasionally loosening some soil out of its body. People pass by
looking at the majestic slide. And when the rain pours in it descends down spitting mud
and boulders. As Krishnaveer descends, the grocery prices go up in the metropolis. The
monster has walked down into the highway writes and visualizes the media. Khichapokhari
market, Asan groceries, Kalimati and many such Kathmandu locations giggle under their
sleeves. Doctors find that they are short of life saving equipment for critical patients,
business and commerce come to a standstill, and the shopkeepers fix their own price tags.
And the tiny bulldozers out in the wild pant and puff to clear the loosening flesh of the
monster! This year’s story goes by with some fun and some pain. The monster retreats
into its diagonal bed and winks and mocks at the common Nepalis.
The entire commerce, education, politics,
culture is communicated through this highway that connects the two major regions of the
country, the hills and the terai. There is one ancient highway breaking away from the town
of Naubise, but that is more about reflecting our wretched condition than about any
practicality. Dhulikhel originates one more highway, but that is a feeble alternative to
the national highway.
Returning to Kathmandu or going out by the roads
is never a comfortable experience. Necessity is something different: you have to travel
for different purposes. A couple of months ago, a team from the Tribhuvan University had
to go to Pokhara, and the mildly raging Krishnaveer forced many of my colleagues to stay
back in the safe Kathmandu. Some years ago, while returning from Pokhara, we had to share
a cab due to all such seasonal transportation hazards. The co-passenger who happened to be
a professor and who was traveling with his wife had rejoiced by seeing the evening lights
of the valley from Thankot hills. He had said, "Districts are no places to visit,
dear!" (Jilla ta jane thaun nai hoina baa!).
Furthermore, the roads that take you to the
places like Nagarkot, Dhulikhel, and Kakani demand your nervous attention. The tourists do
not have time to look sideways to enjoy the natural landscape, even if they are not
driving. These roads are not dangerous if the driving is careful, but they certainly are
not comfortable either for the tourists or for the common Nepalis.
The funny thing is that for the entire year, you
have to walk and drive through the puddles and holes in Kathmandu streets, and then just
before the end of the fiscal year, on the eleventh hour, officers, technicians and workmen
repair the roads merely to use the leftover money. In the meantime you read big men of the
country being raided for keeping impressive bank notes inside jute sacks. It is difficult
to believe that a nation has no ideas, no money to think about some permanent
alternatives.
Krishnaveer frustrates the common Nepali. It
makes us helpless and it also tells how hopeless the responsible people are. The festival
of Dashain (Durga Puja) is not very far. While people would be trying to cross the hills,
there would be one more downpour then. This year’s drama will end and things will be
good for months.
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