Net chatting: Aladdin’s Lamp or Frankenstein?

By Damakant Jayshi

It’s the in thing now. And among all age groups. Married, single or divorced or for that matter, the aged, college teen or schoolchildren, all are hooked to it. Call it the mythological Aladdin’s magical lamp or Frankenstein, the Internet is simply overwhelming. However, it is an offshoot of the Net that is creating waves all over the world. And that is chatting on the Net for seeking both short-term pleasure and long-term relationship.

The lure of chatting on the net is simply irresistible. Many do so with their real names while others use fanciful nicknames just for the purpose. Chatting with someone known to you has its own charm, especially the ones who are away from you. There is an element of freedom as well as reservation. You know that you are free to call your acquaintance and open up to whatever degree your relationship allows you to. But you are aware that there is a boundary that you don’t dare cross.

But this restriction does not hold fort when you are chatting with someone who is unknown to you - whether in the city you live in or far away from you. The unknown "friend", and in many cases those instant "boyfriend" and "girlfriend", gives a strange feeling of excitement.

Some of the guys and girls that we meet on the net are too "fast". They can be found on all the popular chat sites like Yahoo, MSN, Nepalnews, among others. While some want brief and quick entertainment, others want a more consistent chatting. There is a third category as well. Some boys and men keep female names and vice-versa. A branch of this category hides one’s age and other details regarding studies and work and hop from one room to another fooling around.

If the chat partner is consistent, then it leads to the exchange of e-mails, and in some cases even the address and the phone number. There have been occasional reports in the West that people have even married after meeting in a chat room. There are also reports of steady relationships between chat room friends all over the world.

Even in our own backyard there are instances of long-time relationship that began and developed in the chat room. Deepak and Priya (names changed), both in Nepal, are having a steady relationship for the last two years and are still going strong.

Another example is that of a Nepali girl who applied for a job, got it but did not take it up because a special event occurred in the meantime. She met a Swedish guy, they came closer and are about to marry and she is going to fly to the Scandinavian land.

However, all are not as lucky. In trying to make a friend, many tricks up the sleeve are tried and that leads to undesirable complications. While chatting consistently with someone on the Net it is but a natural urge to know about one’s friend. It is also not out of this world to think a lot about one’s friend. There is indeed a play of imagination here. Chatters start imagining how their friend looks like. Mostly it is a prejudiced picturization. One tends to ‘create’ the looks of one’s online partner. The result often is disaster off-line. It is here the pitfalls lie and one needs to think many times before exchanging the e-mail/address/phone number.

Says Pooja (name changed), teenager: "Guys and girls chat for a longtime and develop a kind of affinity and soon they like to meet each other. They form their own images of their net-friend and if and when they meet, they are hugely disappointed because the person they see is nowhere near their imagination." It is then an awkward situation for both. Something like a proverbial genie coming out of the bottle and you don’t know how to bottle it up again.

Does it mean then the Net chatting is like a double-edged sword? May be it is so if we take into account the examples before us. Agony and the ecstasy - we may expect both the emotions. If you are as lucky as the ‘Deepak’, ‘Priya’, the Nepali girl and the Swedish guy, the Net is no less than Aladdin’s lamp that gives you the most cherished treasure. Or if it is what ‘Pooja’ says, then it’s a monster, Frankenstein that we create at our own peril.

rags to riches

Sarita Bahety

The charisma lingers on. No it’s not just another day in her life. She feels that she has transformed into a different person. The change was not overnight though. That night it rained heavily. She reminisced of the days when she used to snuggle close to her mother when she felt that the nights brought about sparks just like electricity in the rainy days. She used to be afraid of lightening. She was like a little bundle of joy to her mother who caressed her most lovingly and used to draw her close to her bosom when her child used to get afraid. The night was getting still darker...

Now, she is a brave woman no longer afraid even if it rains cats and dogs in the dead of nights. The eerie sounds that the drops of water make when they fall on the tin roofs don’t scare her anymore. The transformation was a unique one. She learnt it all by herself. No her mother didn’t teach her the harsh realities of life. She treated her like a little princess and talked to her only about the beautiful world. She wove in her mind the colours of the flamboyant flowers, the richness of the soil, the depth of the blue ocean, and the lavishness of the vast sky. Only the prettiest pictures of the life did she show to her coy baby. But, it was rather unfortunate that she couldn’t be there with her to see her growing into her adolescence, she bade her good bye pretty early in her life, leaving her to realize the bluntness of this ruthless world.

The child who was till now used to a warm and caring mother and a cozy hearth suddenly felt very lonely. No more did she see the beauteous world, no more was she an apple of the eye for her mother. She still waited for her mother to wake her up as the dawn broke, to sing a lullaby to her as she saw the stars twinkling. But now the stars faded away. They had lost their sparkle for her. Gradually it sank into her that her mother was no longer with her, that she was now all by herself.

A few days later she found herself as an abandoned little soul surviving at the mercy of the people nearby. But how long could they help her. After all she was not their own when all that matters is the relation of blood. Days later she found herself in a dingy room of an orphanage, she felt lonely and lost, lost somewhere in this world. Months later they shifted her to a psychiatric home. She was aghast. The environment was alien and she felt like running away. To her the world seemed to be mad which had thrown her into a mental asylum. One day, she sneaked out to be her own world.

Now she was another street urchin. Like the other street kids she used to loiter about in the trash finding some left overs left by affluent people. Any nook or corner beneath the pavement became her shelter for the night. Now her haven was the infinite sky. But there was an urge in her heart to canvas the realities of this world, the way she had seen them all her life. In her dreams she used to paint the colourful pictures and an artist was emerging in her.

God is kind sometimes, for there on the same lane an old artist used to live under a small thatch who didn’t mind her standing in awe in front of his aisle when he used to enliven a blank canvas with the vividness of hues. One day his canvas depicted the agony of this girl. This portrait won an international prize. His fortune changed. Now the girl was his inspiration and more such paintings adorned the exhibition halls. The girl soon picked up this fine art, her passion. She shifted to a different city. Her dedication and hard work made it possible to realize her dreams. Years later she was the maestro, well known to this world as an artist of class. But now she was a level headed woman who knew her roots very well. At least now she had a roof above her head. The fame didn’t dazzle her.

It was one of the coldest nights of that year. She could feel the chill all over while she lay in her warm bed. It was raining very hard. Suddenly she heard a child crying far away. It made her restless. She remembered the fateful night years ago which had left her desolate. She couldn’t decide whether it was another such occasion when a mother abandoned her child. She could see her mother in the darkness of the night; her vision was blurred for a while. The mother tenderly kissed her child. The wailings had subsided. She was at ease now.

The loneliness didn’t frighten her anymore. In a few hours the dawn broke promising a new day as the birds twittered.

sleepless in battisputali

Hitesh Karki

The clock just next to me says 12.15 am. It’s the knock (or should I be saying the bang!) on the door that compels me to wake up. With eyes half shut-half open I lazily walk up to door, obviously with irritation, completely infuriated. After all, it’s Friday, and tomorrow’s the only day when I don’t have to rely on my alarm.

"Pani aayo.." (there’s the water!). If I’m not mistaken I think that’s what I hear my mom shouting from outside.

That was enough. I knew for what purpose I had been robbed of my sleep. The task was readymade.

To begin with, find the keys for the main door, one more reason to get irritated for having to look for the keys of the main gate in the middle of the night, and then walk down the stairs and start the machine. Machine being the water pump. I know it's illegal to do so but then should I wash my hands with Bisleri? And this, when we mean Nepal, gifted in abundance with water resources. And to top it all, the dry season hasn’t started yet!

I follow the rules (the unwritten ones!). Had it been that I could just switch on the machine and then curl inside the warmth of quilts the situation still wouldn’t have been that bad (even though it is already bad!). But to make matters worse I just can’t do it. Well if you ask me why, then the reason’s simply too simple to fathom. Don’t know for how long they will let the water supply run, flow and what if it stops all of a sudden and the machine ends up breaking down! I would then have to bear the brunt of don’t know how many crashed water pumps. So then here I am peeping through my window every 5 minutes or so just to check whether whoever is sitting there at the Drinking Water Corp has turned off the knob of the main supply or not.

Just a second, I’ll just go and check. Well it seems so far so good.

By the way, interestingly, all the neighbourhood is now awake. Though it's midnight the scene almost looks like the dawn. There’s the buzz, and lights are on. And the funny thing about all this is you are getting what you have paid for and at the same time you seem to make yourself feel that "Yes there it is" as if it were provided free of cost! Come to think of it, what if it were really for free?

One must have heard the saying that rules are meant to be broken, fair enough. But then what one must not have heard is that it’s the ones on the other side who do that, not the rule makers themselves. Didn’t get it...well let me explain. Just a few days ago there was this announcement on the television that from the first of Falgun (March) the water supply will be made according to so and so schedules. The person reading the schedule seemed to go on and on but then my mom was quick enough to react. As the schedule was being read my mom immediately asked me to take off the wall calendar and start marking the days and timings of the water supply that will be made for our locality.

Now going by that particular announcement the timing was supposed to be in the evenings. And here I am with the clock moving almost past 12.25 looking out side from the window without being able to go to bed because of the timings.

fear and fun in holi

Archita pant and Karishma Amatya

Holi. Nobody’s sure. Some seem to take it as a sport and the rest, as entertainment. However the borders have been crossed. Due to the practice of unacceptable and unappealing behaviour like teasing and annoying others the celebration does not seem to bring any enthusiasm and zeal to many people these days.

Ten years ago, holi was a fun game limited to our own family circles and friends. Ten years from now, it might take on an actual form of a nightmare. Right now in the break of the new millennium, holi stands as a threat to all. The myth of holi has now been transformed into a mere game of water balloons and colours.

Is holi trendy with teenagers?

The main targets today are girls. Just the other day, a group of boys came out of thin air. Shocked as we were, there came showers of dirty water and balloons. Isn’t this unacceptable?

Durga Nath Sharma, G.M. of Nepal Television said, "Holi is not our tradition. We are imitating the Indians. It is the epitome of vulgarity to throw dirty water on human beings". Whereas in contrast to his remark, film artist/comedian Hari Bansha Acharya said, "Holi is our tradition. But it should be limited within our circle of kith and kin. It is an auspicious occasion, which should be played in the daytime itself and not from weeks ahead that will certainly be of great inconvenience to many. However, Holi is certainly not a trend. It is only a part of our religion. It has its own drawbacks as well as both positive and good aspects. Personally I do not participate in this festival of colours".

The answer may take various forms. Yes, to some extent, it is turning into a trend. Teenagers, moreover, boys find it rather funny when they hit passers-by with balloons, sometimes filled with drain water and cow dung in extreme cases.

The atmosphere in the valley, on the day, is filled with a profusion of colour, a trend adopted from India, where it holds a major religious importance. However, the celebration there too varies from state to state. Holi in Shanti Niketan and Brindawan, where only colours are used, is played in a very sober manner. It perhaps takes its crudest form in Maharastra, West Bengal. Hundreds of casualties are reported each year. It may provoke curiosity to know that Bihari youth in Bengal use boot polish as a form of hue amidst the celebration of holi. While in the remote areas of Nepal, holi takes on a more subtle form.

The word "bhang" is almost synonymous to "holi". The use of bhang is a ritual and it is prepared deliciously and differently in different forms

The image of holi is now stained by vandalism and hooliganism. We seem to be blinded by our perception of having fun. The exultant atmosphere is transformed into something very ugly in Kathmandu. Concern for others and the key word "discipline" seem to be lost. It is not a restraint. It is simply a path, which leads us to a safer way. It is the only proof against bad ideas, influences and deeds. Though the colours are sprayed, the water splashed, one should do it with true spirit, as it celebrates the victory of good over evil.

The colours act as shades that hide us from the outside world. It helps conceal our griefs and sorrows. What stands out are the splashing and spraying of the coloured water. It portrays gaiety and the Nepalese culture. But within the thick veils of colourfulness it has somehow managed to nurture a misguided trend.

Let's not forget the holy spirit of holi. Wash away old enmities, inequalities and reconcile with all for a harmonious future. It is disturbing to find that the message of holi is being ignored today. Let's all make merry everywhere, no one should be excepted anywhere.

false comparison

Sunita Giri

I shall make Kathmandu another Singapore" was a very bold and ambitious statement of a famous politician of our country. Those words made me very curious as to how developed, clean and beautiful Singapore really was. Even in my dreams I stared wondering in the streets and super malls of Singapore. That was it, I had to do some thing about it. Within a few days time, there I was at Changi International Airport. I was used to seeing a few planes in our international or domestic airports, and here I was in the middle of hundreds of Boeings. Forget Boeings, for the first time I was also seeing some double decker planes. The airport, its duty free shops, the cleanliness, the perfect management; I was lost. For a few minutes I wondered how our politicians, could even imagine our own poor little Kastamandup to be like the rich and developed Singapore.

Within half an hour or so I was on my way to the hotel. The roads were not that busy but the driver would not speed up. That was not something I was familiar with in my country so I asked him why he did so. He informed me that the rules and regulations in Singapore were very strict and that cameras were placed on certain points of the road to check speed limits.

Tall beautiful buildings were a very common sight. Greenery and extreme cleanliness was something to be found everywhere. The sights of garbage thrown all around, unmanaged traffic, people with very little civic sense, pollution of all kinds was all that my earlier generation and my present government preserve for this generation. With so many strikes, unwanted rallies, etc., where would I start comparing my poor little country with this gigantic, extremely clean, perfectly managed and well developed country called Singapore. I hardly found anything with which I could compare my motherland.

Ok, we have our rich culture, some very old temples and stunning scenery but they have it too and unlike us they have preserved it. Even the mentality of these people was worth the applause. All of them were clearly goal diverted. They wanted to do something for themselves and for the country. Their per capita income, their life style, their literacy rate, every thing was above average.

Late during the night I used to sit outside my hotel and wonder. How come they are so developed and we so undeveloped? Where did we go wrong? It is we ourselves and our way of thinking that had let us down. They have vision and they fulfill it. We have dreams and they remain dreams for ever. Looking at it I can say it is sad but true that Singapore for us is a far away distant dream.

the spreading net

Smriti Dhungel

Nepal, a county so richly known as the Himalayan abode of the gods, untainted and sacrosanct, is now shamelessly being renowned for selling their women folk into neighbouring countries. What’s more, confined within the doors of our own city there's a different story, where girls are voluntarily lured from our very own towns and cities to provide the kind of entertainment which was only exported previously to places like India and Dubai.

Local prostitution is increasing at an alarmingly high rate within the cities and towns of Nepal, especially here in Kathmandu. According to Madhavi Singh, associated with the National Network against Trafficking of Women, "At least a minimum of 5000 girls are working in the flesh trade within Kathmandu and its suburbs. She further adds, "a majority of them are from nearby villages. Most girls have been recruited in the hotel and tourism industries like dance restaurants, guesthouses, hotels, massage parlours and discos ". They are paid within the range of Rs1000 minimum up to Rs5000 or even more on a nightly basis, depending on the intent of their work. The owners order them to comply with the demands of customers as part of their service. This leaves the girls with no choice but to oblige the whims and fancies of the owners in fear of losing their jobs due to their lack of skills and education. But sources close to today’s changing trends say, "there are basically two types of girls, the ones who do it for they need the money and the other type, some from affluent families who just do it for the fun. According to a source who further adds "some of the girls although from good families do it for fun for the bucks to meet their expensive demands’. According to the buzz in town Nepali pornographic films are gaining increasing popularity, inevitably paving the way for further exploitation.

On the subject of variety, the Nepali kanchi looking types with Mongoloid features are now not the only ones popular with clients as it was previously, for even dark skinned girls from the Terai regions are being recruited into this trade so long as the girl is young and beautiful. Says Bima Karki, (real name withheld) "my girls are worth anywhere between Rs5000 to Rs15000 for a night. Usually my frequent clients are those with a level of income who can afford the price I set. They give me a description of the type they are looking for and I try to fit their portrayal". She further claims that some Nepali movie actresses work for her as well.

Adds Mr. Ravi Baral, director of Chameli, "these girls who are working as prostitutes here are already accustomed to this life. They do not want to go into programmes sponsored by NGOs like knitting and stitching as they are used to making quick money and have no patience for that type of work. I think the emphasis should be given to creating awareness through all channels. This is the only way the lives of thousands of naive girls can be saved. Besides the law should decriminalise those people involved in this trade such as the restaurant and hotel owners. But intentionally nothing is being done". According to police reports a minimum of 5000 to 6000 girls are sexually exploited within our city alone in all forms of prostitution. Those arrested are let off easily. "Due to the lack of inadequate laws such as a provision against sexual exploitation of girls, the revised Muluki Ain of 2020 has failed to give weight to the matter" says Advocate Shashi Adhikary. Girls between the ages of 7 to 25 are the age groups that fall prey to exploitation. NGOs like CIWIN, MAITI Nepal, WOREC and ABC Nepal are setting up community programmes to rehabilitate women who have been sexually exploited but the results have been less than satisfactory as a majority of the girls are engaged in prostitution voluntarily due to poverty and unemployment.

Owing to the demand for this type of cheap entertainment experts forecast that the figures will double within the next two years. For some girls, it has become a way of life, for others it’s seen as a game. Still if the government remains a silent spectator the destiny of thousands of girls will be on the line in the years to come.

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