Love unconditional

apologize. To the admirable gentleman if he ever reads this. To his grandson even though the little boy will probably never come to know that such an article ever appeared in the papers. I apologize to both of them for intruding into their privacy for I am but a faceless stranger. I do offer an explanation as to why I am writing this. My line of work has taught me that it is a shame not to let a significant incident be retold; it does not matter whether the incident is good, bad or ugly. This is also my way of expressing my thanks to the gentleman for he put hope in my heart for us human beings. You see, being a part of the working (and commuting) population of the country's capital city, I have gone through several phases of disillusionment because of the truth around me. Living in a third world country, I have prepared myself for poverty and the faces of the underprivileged but what saddens me more and more each day is the attitude of the more fortunate. Today, the rule seems to be that if you are at an advantage, you are to make the most of the situation. Each time I am out of the house, I see a sadistic driver taking pleasure in pretending to run down a frightened pedestrian. Often, I see a strong male harassing somebody half his size. So at the end of the day or sometimes even at the beginning of the day, I will be questioning myself whether I want to be among human beings at all.

And it was during one such day that I became a part of the world that was shared by the fifty-something gentleman and his grandson. Only for an hour. But it just took this one simple (and unforgettable) incident to remind me that as human beings, we are also capable of caring so much. It also proved that although fate cannot be challenged, love and affection stops fate from being totally harsh. There were the two of us, a friend and I and it was a Thursday afternoon. It was a working day, but because of the festive season it was a public holiday. After shopping in the unrelenting sun for hours and watching eight out of ten people behave in the usual uncivilized manner, we settled ourselves in a Chinese restaurant in Durbar Marg to have our lunch. They walked in accompanied by one more man, probably the granddad's friend. The first thing anybody would have noticed about the two was that they looked more like old buddies, the grandfather's arms stretched out and resting on the shoulders of his grandson who led him into the restaurant. Other than that, I noticed that the boy wore high-powered glasses and that the man was in very good health. They looked happy. The trio took a table next to ours.

It was during our wait for our order that I noticed that the boy had some difficulty in speaking. It wasn't a stammer, nor was it childish lisping; a slight halt after a few words, which made it sound like he was swallowing the rest of the sentence. Because I had my back turned towards them, it would have been rude to turn around and look. When I finally did turn around to look, it was not only out of ill-mannered curiosity but also because the boy kept saying amusing things that had the entire restaurant interested. And then, my doubts were confirmed; the boy, ten years old or so, suffered from some kind of slight mental disorder. Apart from having difficulty in speaking, he had a facial tick that appeared each time he was stuck for words. There was no doubt that this was a very intelligent boy. He spoke to his grandfather in rapid English and at that age, his grasp of the language was excellent. But some of his mannerisms and behavior were more like that of a two-year-old.

The boy liked talking, it was obvious. He commented on everything in the surroundings, from the colourful fishes of the aquarium, to the contents of the restaurant menu. At one point, I remember he peered seriously through his glasses at the menu and said thoughtfully, "I look at the menu and I see so many things that I like."

Had it not been for the child's endless banter and behavior, I would have never thought his grandfather made such a huge difference in his life. At the risk of sounding poetic, I say that the kind of patience the man had for the boy was rare and beautiful. I am sure that it is not only me but every other person in the restaurant who noticed this. Even though I  was a part of their world for just an hour, I can safely say that the two shared an amazing bond. And of course, credit has to be given to the grandfather for naturally, he was the support for this relationship. The grandfather had an answer for every question the little boy asked, including the question about why some of the fishes in the aquarium preferred swimming at the bottom of the tank. He waited patiently while the boy spent time caught in an unending dilemma about what to order. And he found it only natural and expected when the child decided that he liked granddad's order instead of his when both arrived. Along with his friend, he also listened attentively while the boy talked nineteen to the dozen as he tackled a single dumpling. At one point, I heard him tell the child, "You are a very difficult boy," but that itself was said with a lot of affection.

Children are difficult to handle. And this boy was an even more demanding case. Given his need for such a lot of attention within the span of one hour, one could well imagine his needs at home. And because it was obvious that he was most attached to his grandfather, one can't help admiring the man for being able to keep the boy this happy. He must love the boy immensely to have succeeded. It was also apparent that he was proud of his grandson. However, there are people, I know, who prefer to leave such unfortunate relatives at home, sometimes out of embarrassment and sometimes because they do not want to face the truth. As a result, such unfortunate people merely exist and do not live, for they do not have the chance to live. The child's grandfather would make sure that this did not happen to him.

By the end of our lunch, I found different thoughts going through my head. I thought about the anguish the little boy's family must have gone through when they discovered the truth about him. I thought about how much they must worry for him each day. And I thought about how his welfare and happiness must figure large in his grandfather's list of priorities. It was the last thought that overshadowed the rest. After all, it was the nicest thought of them all.

The boy's last line as my friend and I were exiting the restaurant was, "I want an ice-cream." As patient as ever, I heard his grandfather say, "Yes babu, I think you should have one." The boy will probably grow up to be an intelligent adult.  I don't like to contemplate his future because he and his grandfather make a beautiful picture the way they are today, the way I saw them three weeks ago. And to an extent, I envy them both. I envy the grandfather because I myself have not been able to develop such selfless patience. And I envy the grandson because he'll grow up oblivious to the bitter realities of the world, his memories full of nothing but pure unconditional love. 

Intellectual ABORTION ?

Tek B. Karki

he common waves of thought which rush through my mind frequented with dreadful speed are my worries as much as they are to the people willing to make a dent in intellectual pursuits. I try hard to let them go through as they come on to me but the frequency remains unchanged. When I go to bed I prefer to be in my chair to organise my mind. From bed I see the dead  events of my past failures in my various pursuits right from making money to a projected profession of words and ideas. Normally when I run short of ideas I shuttle from bed to a room with a writing desk in the front, for which one door has to be opened which separates my presence from one room  to the other.

 I remain  gloomy  in my bedroom. For want of a timely whitewash my spacious room looks poky and narrow. I imagine, plain water while mixed with white lime can produce wonderful magic to change the shades of a dark looking room to a brighter one. I guess, the process of intellectual   growth is the same.

 The take off for any creativity is bound to be a lot easier once the intellectual infrastructures are well built. The choice and taste of an intellectual are hard to define. Practically each and every intellectual has to live within his limitation of options and pursue a career which is not the same branch of the same tree. A conscious and cultivated mind if he is goaded  to creative writing has two careers to be taken care of. One is his main profession which feeds him and his family, the other of his interest. How many creative writers are involved in writing under the room light of their ancestral or inherited property? Only exceptions. Why is this so? That's anybody's guess. He who knows truth is an intellectual. My intellectuals are those who are centripetally attracted to the core of creative writing in any form.

I read few books to learn the craft not knowing exactly what to write about. Commercial writings grossly confused me for my interest was other than this. I know one has to write that stuff which sells. Later I discovered the seed of truth was the same for commercial or creative writing. After all you need money to pursue the career of a successful writer. Since this is not possible in a country which has four seasons with four different seasonal requirements to their calling. Few commercial writers may argue on this. For them, I suggest to read a Hungarian writer Stephen Vizinczey if they really want to be creative.

The point or issue which I dare to take up is about: "Intellectual entrepreneurs and their entrepreneurship in writing." The Nepali intellectuals barring political pundits are on the slight edge of appreciating and sharing others points of view but the majority still tend to be self-focused. The inflation rate of indigenous intellectualism is scaling new summits after the dawn of donkey democracy acclimatised to the conditions of taking loads of any magnitude on the tender spines of country polity. At this point of time and clime the role of an intellectual is torrid. But who will open the innings on the intellectual scoreboard? No other than  themselves.

Native writers, writing in our mother tongue are some what seen in the act of togetherness. This could be because of the fact that Nepali literature has made remarkable headway and the writers have made their names in national literature if not fortune. Right from primary schools to the highest university classes, Nepali text books are taught by Nepali teachers penned by the native authors. Proudly, we have reached this stage backed up by our centuries-old history of literature. Still heaps of currencies lie hidden in the creative jackpots of literary genius.

 The gap  between creators and critics stands in polarised distance. The situation is: writers are writing, publishers are producing but readers are not reading for want of critical assessment despite the genuine outputs of creative pen-pushers. Who will fix the price of an intellectual commodity? Undoubtedly they are the book reviewers and the critics. Ideas are always conceived to sell the ideas. The manufacturing process of any visible or non-visible form of art runs out of steam. The bright culture of organizing literary symposiums, new book launchings and poetry recitations have given substantial impetus to Nepali writers. The majority of writers are still limited to the scope of self-expression and are worried about their publications.

Petty interest groups of literary money -mongers are a syndicated phenomenon. This has given rise to different literary organizations with or without financial base. A scene is slowly mapping its outlines in the territory of writing in English by Nepali writers after a recorded history of all time great Devkota. This preference perhaps, is not the attempt of ego-demonstration of high learning in English. It is already a second language to us. I strongly believe that the writers are enjoying their privilege of freewheel expressions in the medium of their option. Some are bilingual greatly serving the hard job of rendering Nepali works into English.

The colossal growth of English boarding schools plus the English print medias, the entries of foreign publications in the local market are instrumental for English consumption. Few writers in this medium have proven their merits especially in the genre of poetry. So their promises seem to move on an unbroken chain of continued creativity. Still there is every danger of a premature abortion or miscarriage of this artistic embryo before it develops into life.   "The myth of  inspired idiots" may apply to the upcoming generation willing to write in English in a variety of forms of self-expressions and thus create a market base for their outputs.

A Harvard report was somewhere mentioned   in the published report of President Eisenhower's commission on the national goals in the 60s which states: "The university can provide a home in which his (the artist's) genius can best flower." But this was under serious doubt with the growing commercialism in the centres of highest learning with dangers of damaging other standards and values involved in the process of artistic growth  and intellectualism.

In the back of my mind I have a feeling that the Tribhuvan University's Central Department of English, has realised this truth with the wake of intellectual infrastructures available in the country .The Literary Association of Nepal (LAN) must have come to this way of thinking. I am not very sure, but the genuine grains of truth are in it.

Highbrow professors of English: Dr. Kamal P. Malla, Dr. Shreedhar Lohani, Dr D. P. Bhandari, Dr. Mohan Lohani, Dr. Rameshwor Adhikari, Dr. Abhi Subedi and Dr. Padma P. Devkota have shown their large heartedness listening to the expressions of young soda bottles of talent and sharing their own with them. Professor Devkota's role in this was that of a "Queen-bee" for developing a juicy beehive for natural honey extraction from the thinking brains. This practice must change into a tradition . As of now it is on-going and is limited to a few number of university teachers of English and non-teachers. Fresh crops are making their entry into this mainstream of creative writing in English. As things appear as of now a definite future is too early to forecast before this tradition goes to a process of institution building other than through LAN. Right now, I only hope. The highest court of appeal for intellectual hearing is the mind of an intellectual. But our present position reminds me of one quote: "The intellectuals are dead- long live the intellectuals!"

Techniques of TRANSLATION

at a time when demand for literary translation is being superseded by scientific, technical and machine translations, an Introduction to Translation Studies would  be of help to  students of  Translation Studies.

Translation Studies is a fairly new discipline introduced by Tribhuvan University at both Master's and Bachelor's Level at its affiliated colleges. The University introduced the new subject with a view to revitalizing translations in  the study of literature and language.  

Translation was used to render the literature of one language to another, basically for the pleasure of reading. Now, the focus is on acquiring information through translation, by machine or human translations.

Nepal lacks translation theory, history, technique or criticism, and some translations in recent years have misinterpreted or mistranslated original texts. With increased translation activities, improper renderings of texts have been on the rise.      

Against this backdrop, An Introduction to Translation Studies by Dr Govinda Raj Bhattarai is a timely publication that caters to the needs of not only the students of Translation Studies , but also to the teachers and scholars.

The writer touches upon the topics of perennial debate in translation, together with their solutions. This apart, he has also highlighted the recent trends and techniques in translation studies.

Though this is a fresh attempt to introduce the discipline to the Nepalese readership, the book has covered various aspects of translation as a form of study,  some hardly touched upon before. The book will be valued by all.

Translation was, and still remains, a major tool for sharing knowledge and information through which many languages and literatures have enriched themselves. Had there been no translations from one language (source) to another (target), there would have been less cross cultural flow between people and languages.

"Man has always felt an urge to break the barrier of ignorance by means of translation". This thirst for knowledge has led man into this age of information technology.

Why not Bahini-tika ?

RAZEN MANANDHAR

very year Bhai-tika comes with the same fanfare, heralding a message of sacred love between brother and sister. But in this ritual coating, the sister is the one who plays the role of worshipper and the brother is always a god, the protector. 

This tradition of Bhai-tika has been part of our society for centuries. The issue of women's rights and questions of gender discrimination have become top agendas at least among the elite classes. But no woman's lib activist has questioned this ritual from the angle of gender equality. Except for a few female politicians, whose actions and reactions are guided more by "political profit" than social upliftment, no woman, including some so-called fighters for gender equality, take bhai-tika as gender discrimination.

For most, if not all, women's lib activists, the gateway to equality or relief from male domination is money. They believe that having a lot of money will give them enough power to fight against any sort of discrimination, exploitation or tyranny. That is why they have been creating storms over claiming parental property rights even after marriage.

However, when the issue of Bhai-tika comes, most of the woman activists remain silent. They do not feel that the addition of Bahini-tika is necessary.

A well-known cultural expert of today, Hari Ram Joshi wrote a pamphlet on the need of a Bahini-puja as early as 1958. Even after around half a century, his dream of new dimension on this cultural discrimination has not brought any rays of hope for change. He says, "I was and have been an off beat character in this society. You can't imagine what the people's reaction could have been in those days when the literacy rate was low even in the capital and women's rights were a distant dream."

He regrets that even today people, especially the women, who should raise their hands against this lopsided ritual, have not objected. Today, women have realized that both men and women are "two wheels of a cart" and they should be given equal opportunities in society but he has not heard any woman activist asking men to pray to their sisters as they (sisters) do for their health and longevity. He adds, "Until and unless a change is brought in our cultural practices, the attitude towards women will never change for culture is the foundation which guides the social behaviors not money."

But women activists have been found not to be serious on this issue. Advocate Chhatra Gurung of Legal Advice Centre says there is gender discrimination in sisters praying to their brothers. "This Bhai-tika tightens the bondage between the siblings and even after anomalies and animosity, brothers and sisters enjoy the ritual and forget and forgive each-other."

She adds that Bhai-tika is just another side of Dashain when brothers invite married sisters and give tika and presents.

Dr Chunda Bajracharya, the chairperson of National Indigenous and Nationalities Women's Federation, however, says that this festival is merely for showing affection and care for the brother. Therefore, to express sincere affection, rituals like Bhai-tika or Bahini-tika is not necessary. Still, she agrees that at least in the rituals, women are, to some extent, discriminated against. "With some presents and sentimental myths, women are obliged to stay under men's shelter."

Nevertheless, Chairperson of Human Rights Communication Academy Nepal, Shova Gautam at least agrees that all is not well with Bhai-tika. She says discrimination against women is not limited in Bhai-tika rituals. One can find it in almost all rituals. "We must find differences in religion, culture and blind-faith.We can at least take steps to change the culture and blind-faith" 

We live on bread and butter but our attitude and life-style are guided by culture and tradition. So long as our women activists concentrate only on parental property rights in the name of gender equality, social equality for both sexes will remain a dream.

An Encounter

it was October- the time for students studying in India to come home for vacations. This time due to the unavailability of

tickets, the three of us were determined to travel in the general compartment also because we had no other choice.

Though winter was approaching, it was sticky, sweaty and boiling hot. We planned before hand what to take while travelling, as it was always difficult for girls travelling in the general boogie. After bribing the coolies to reserve the seats for us, we got a place to sit in one corner. The general compartment was as usual crowded and full of people who we would never dare to look at twice. After getting our seats, we put our bags safely away.

I started speculating on the people opposite us. They were two old men and a woman with a baby. I had a notion that they were travelling together but when there was a lack of communication between the men and the woman, I then realized that the woman was on her own. I started observing her behaviour. She resembled us, similar in features. I tried to closely look at the words tattooed on her hands. It looked like her name along with the house number.

As I looked, many thoughts kept coming into my head. The kind of thoughts that every girl would think especially when studying in Bombay and dealing with all the various social issues. The secondary sources, the reading materials, had further told us of the situation in the brothels and the consequences faced by commercial sex workers. I remember reading that in some cases, as soon as they are brought to the brothels, the house numbers would be tattooed on their hands so that the girl could be traced easily by the brothel keepers.

As I sat opposite her, my thoughts kept piling up. Could she be a commercial sex worker fleeing from Bombay and going home? Could she be the brothel keeper going to Calcutta to arrange for some girls? I wondered whether her profession was voluntary, involuntary or bonded. According to the data findings, not less than 200,000 Nepalese girls and women are working in the brothels in India. But according to the research findings, which we had conducted during the course of our studies, we found that the numbers of commercial sex workers are decreasing in Bombay.

When we had conducted the research study with the commercial sex workers, we were amazed by their attitude. They were so hospitable and nice and expressed their happiness on seeing people from their hometown. Though we have heard from the media about their lifestyle and their agony, to hear their situation first hand and face to face was painful as they expressed their inner most feelings. They further remarked that they would never want to show up in Nepal and would like to spend the rest of their life in India rather than face their people. That was the reality and the reality knocked our dreams too.

Coming back to the journey, we found that whenever we spoke in Nepali, we felt that our words were fathomed as she would smile, make some gestures of recognition. We did try to communicate with her in Nepali but she just refused to utter anything in our language. It might be because she didn't want to disclose her identity, maybe someone was keeping a watch on her or she didn't want to let go of her profession.

But why should she also, as this is her only means of living? In any case if she went back, what would she get -  humiliation from her family and friends, lack of support from the Nepalese government and a return to the same profession.

She almost literally sat on her seat for 24 hours without food or a drink. I admired the way she dealt with the situation. It was all the more surprising too to see her kid full of expression - the expression of a mature person. The training given to him impressed me. She really must be a brave mother and bold too. The boldness inherited through time, through the hard times and the times when she wouldn't want any girl or woman to undergo what she may have undergone.

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