Nepali Youths: On Whose Tutelage?

At times, concerns about young people’s ‘disappearance’ from Nepal appear futile. The young people occasionally  show unpredictable public appearance. They emerge now and then, in fairs, fanfares and festivities. They prove their productivity with visible activism. When there are political gatherings in the city, they swarm in thousands (or lakhs if we go by the claims of their ‘parties’) by the roofs of old vehicles. They are in the mainstream discourse by clashing with one another almost every day. They are here to padlock offices, and there to punch offenders.

But, where does this crowd go on a normal day? I see at least five locations/destinations in my first ruminations: families, political parties, educational institutions, ‘study-abroad’ consultancies, and manpower agencies. There may be more, though.

Families are primary caretakers. They are affected both by deviation and devotion of the younger generation. In villages, young people shun farming, or give it only a tertiary value. They have a general tendency of leaving the village either for cities or foreign countries. In cities, most young people are more prone to material pursuits than show activism towards humanitarian causes.  Parents like to prevent their children from ‘messing’ in public activities, and try all means to ensure excellence in their upbringing inside a limited circle of trainers and groomers. Common in villages and cities, young ones are spiritually detached from home looking towards a relatively more colourful future. Besides, parents either promote or cannot check individualism.  They rather seem to inculcate in the youths an escapist tendency showing that the country has little to offer.

Political parties need young people to barricade their frontline. Ironically, leaders would like to see them active and aggressive, but ideologically submissive. Old leaders keep on chanting the cliché that youths are tomorrow’s pillars. Young leaders keep complaining that their elders are never letting the helm of politics come to the younger generation. Young followers, possibly unaware of this oft-mystified conflict between old and new leaders, continue to serve the interests of both.

Educational institutions naturally need young learners. Many of them claim to ensure that the youths thrive. The society judges their standard on the basis of their graduates’ successes in entering into a high-paid job or in achieving foreign opportunities. This more or less gears them towards ensuring success beyond the country’s frontiers. Their claims of supporting national development sometimes appear ambiguous.

Study abroad consultancies provide ultimate destinations for the opportunities beyond the frontiers. They target ambitious young people though they seem to boost their spirits with promises of better opportunities. They are in a way facilitating the disappearances.

As industrial development is too slow or downward within the country, a large number of under-educated people do not get job opportunities inside. Manpower offices and agents address the needs of such group of young people. For a person with SLC or below, the possibility of earning about twenty thousand rupees in average at a foreign employment company is a major incentive for leaving the country.

This is to say, Nepali youths have several immediate demands, which our slow-paced development does not meet. The demands range from the basic needs to the plethora of advanced amenities. As aspirations are high, small lapses look big. Failures are frustrating, and frustration is attributed to unstable political situation. In other words, politics has often taken a pessimistic move. Politics and politicians, despite being inevitable, command only little trust. Youths are not trained to tolerate unexpected changes. Instability and economic decline have been highly disseminated everyday realities. Elders greyed with these realities and transferred resignation and pessimism onto their progeny. Hardworking parents have failed to teach their children the value of hard work. There has been more counselling towards personal growth leading to individualism.

Who can help? First, young leaders and entrepreneurs can act as role models for independent growth. Second, parents, teachers and counsellors can show that such leaders emerge from honest and committed youths. Third, policy makers grown from these role models can and must make development plans as per the needs of the new generation.  Otherwise, unnoticed amidst more serious issues at present, the crowd will gradually evaporate and our dear leaders will lack cheerleaders soon.

“It’s the same here!”

I took a copy of Of Nepalese Clay to India so that I could present it to someone who loved poetry. I got a professor who had befriended us as soon as we met. He was the first person to be introduced there. So, I thought a retired professor deserves such present. What’s more, he could also be the first international reader of my poem. So, I asked him to read it and make comments.

His response was simple. He said, “It’s the same here. In fact, it is more so in Gujarat, especially the tension between the old and new mindset.” He meant the following lines from I wait for a Rescuer .

In this home turned hothouse,
My father fights with my mother
Who fights with me and my sister,
And we all fight with our ancestry
That built our history.

I was glad my poem had some universal appeal. When I wrote it, only instability and discord in Nepal had come to my mind.

Besides, he later told me about the disillusionment of young people from the teaching profession, particularly in Gujarat. According to him, for a couple of years ahead Gujarat government would drastically curtail the salary of teachers.  So, teachers were getting much lower salary in Gujarat than in other states. This was why teaching was less of a choice now.

So, the professor complained twice, “How will they stop young graduates either from joining other professions or moving to other states?”

“The Office in Me?”

When I updated my status in facebook mentioning the start of winter holidays, I received a number of congratulations, best wishes and queries. Congratulations from some friends who knew that I needed some time for myself. Best wishes from others who thought I would execute important plans like vacationing somewhere or visiting places. And queries from those who would love to know what I exactly would do.

Almost everyone who comes online with me finds me in office in the day time. At night I happen to run into students who start queries about internship, thesis,  and classes. During one of these nocturnal cybernetic ventures I told my Norwegian friend that I was preparing research guidelines for students, chatting with some she knew and catching hold of others who had negligently crossed the deadline for beginning their projects [Notice for Research Proposals]. She wondered, “Are you still in the office?”

In one of those rare wits I replied, “No, the office is in me.”

Let others judge if I am wrong though I don’t expect any judgement. I gave time to three students yesterday (Saturday) because they needed help. I spent hours last night emailing students about the rationale of doing research in a university and updating research guidelines [Research Guidelines for BMS Fourth Year] for their final project before judging myself as an idiot of a sort — one who has forgotten to be himself and of his family at least for fifteen out of the three hundred and sixty five days. But I would love to add two paragraphs from my late-night rhetoric:

MEDS 450 is an intensive research project demanding your efforts worth of 6 credits.  It is meant to help substantiate your research capabilities as required in a four-year Undergraduate program.  You will complete it under constant guidance of a supervisor who will work along with you to ensure your competence in research and academic writing to the standard of qualifying you for the Bachelor’s degree.

Keep in mind: you can produce programs elsewhere, as a freelancer, out of interest whenever you choose to do it. You have this opportunity in your internship also. But formal academic research and writing are rare opportunities, and  have long-term positive impact on your career.  Moreover, MEDS 450 builds research foundation for your graduate and post-graduate studies. The structure of the Media Studies program, therefore, makes research mandatory.

I hate to be retrospective, but can’t help being. What I see is: I have always spent my vacation in KU, working in the Department, helping in examinations, evaluating students, training participants for programs etc. etc. So, when Apsara says I am more married to the Department than her, I see sense. When Anurag asks me on Saturday why I have not gone to office, I feel sad. Also, when a student shows the computer lab and its broken and missing accessories plus the library and its emptying racks and asks, “Are you too busy or unhappy these days, sir?”, I see enough reason for carrying the office in me.

And, to some of my colleagues who are having the best of the subsiding cold and ongoing spring (which they rightfully, wisely do) I and my type may appear stupid. But do we not need stupid people to keep things going?

I don’t like to see confused people around  if I know I could help avoid the confusion. My principle so far is that I must do more than a job.

Today: one of those very official days

I helped in invigilation between hours of thinking about the office. The day began with discussing the way of streamlining student projects, followed by a meeting for deciding the Department’s collaborative liabilities with Organization for Visual Progression (OVP). I spent the invigilation time noting down to-dos for the vacation so that I (in fact, we) can resume upcoming semester with less confusion. I also took a chance of sneaking into Tirtha’s room to edit the research guidelines updated last night. After lunch I met the registrar and got his instructions for sending OVP feedback on their collaborative requirements. Before the office-time came to a close, I had a tea-time departmental gossip with Mr. Pandey planning for the semester ahead. After dinner, I wrote to Spiny Babbler on OVP collaboration. Office all over!

The delay in student placement for internship will extend if I do not finalize the request letter, evaluation scheme, report format and instructions for students tomorrow.

[But this was postponed for another day as Professor Chauhan had an errand in Kathmandu.]

None of these are mentioned in my appointment letter if I go by the ritual of referring to this official document.  I have understood that they come under helping the media studies program for which I feel parental affection.

Apsara reminded me in the evening that holidays could have been better for untying the PhD-noose.

Yes, the NOOSE!

“Don’t mind dirt in its pure condition.”

The third morning of Gujarat Conference.  Three of us began it with a visit to the temple of Swaminarayan near our guest house. Then we stopped at a tea-shop at the (temple) entrance and lined up with a dozen other people (locals and visitors like us) waiting for the tea to boil. We had taken the morning tea here earlier and had found it more relishing than anywhere else. There was either a full-cup or a half-cup on sale. The tea was served in a china cup upon a china plate. It looked elegant for the standing tea-drinkers.

Now, after having relished the same cups earlier, we noticed something unusual this morning. About the cleaning. In fact, they never cleaned the cups and plates. There was a bowl of water — milky, dirty from the morning or last day — in which the seller’s man would dip the cups and plates each time  as a ritual for ‘cleaning’ for new customers. When our eyes fell on the bowl and we began to gossip in Nepali, the shopkeeper smelled our disgust and got the bowl refilled with supposedly clean water. But we had already ordered in disposable cups.

More than the wait for tea, I wanted to see how the cleaning would go in the new water. But it was the same ritual. The man dipped a dozen cups in it and took them out for new customers. The water got milky again, and he continued the cleaning in the same way. Nobody complained. I felt now on the third day that the Gujarati tea did not taste good even in the disposable cup!

I thought the practice was typical for this seller only. Later, out of curiosity I told the story to a local professor in the afternoon. He simply smiled, and said, “The first thing, many people are not particular about hygiene; second, nobody minds this practice. This is common.” And now we were in another tea-stall waiting for this professor’s offer. He was still saying, “Well, if you take the dirt with a clean heart, there will be no problem.” At this moment, to my own solace, I reminded the professor  a line from Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd, the words of the protagonist Gabriel Oak , “I don’t mind dirt in its pure condition.”

Titbits Number Two

Nepalis or Foreigners?

To me, visiting India or having some connections with India or Indian things renders some degree of ambiguity. It pays to be a Nepali in some cases. In others, you count as a foreigner. And the little knowledge of Hindi helps buttress this ambiguity now and then.

Before I come to the recent cases, let me recall as far as the first SAUFEST (2006) in Jammu. I realized for the first time there in the company of Indians — during the travels and in the Festival itself — that my Aryan look did not help me much to look different. Any first acquaintance would ask me, “Hindi aati hai na?”, and I would say, “Thodi si, lekin meri Hindi achchhi nahi hai.” And they would demand, “To chalega, ab Hindi me hi baat karenge.” This mainly happened with a professor of Law and a Local TV Reporter. The latter had insisted on speaking Hindi for my comments on our participation. So, these people seemed to be telling me indirectly, “You are a Nepali, not a foreigner.”

I recall another story from the guest house (Baishnudevi Dham) where most of the Festival delegates were stationed. In the last evening, during our long wait for the train, I chose to pass my time singing — Nepali and Hindi — along with some Nepali boys. The singing lasted for hours. Almost every guest house inmate was in my audience, chorus and dancers.  I had become a great friend of the staff as well and they my fans. There was then a flood of tea and coffee in offer for this foreign singer of native songs. They were saying at the last moment, “Bhaiya, aap itne din yahan thahare, hum ne aapko pehchana nahi. Fir aaiyega.”

In the fourth SAUFEST (2009) the manager (?) in a Panjab University guest house made a lot of fuss over our identity as Nepalis. Because we were foreigners, he demanded the copies of our passports for the usual entry. I tried hard to explain, both in English and Hindi, that Nepalis did not need passport to travel to and stay in India, nor would any Indian be pestered on in Nepal in the case of identity. A devoted servant of some irritable masters, he did not show readiness to rethink his definition of foreigners, and allowed us to be in only when I promised to give him at least one copy the following day and when our guide reprimanded him for being rude to guests.

Then in the succeeding days, during meetings and conversations, the wiseacres there insisted that the only thing that looked like Nepali in me was my dhaka topi. Without it, I was swallowed by the soil, so they thought.

Last year, I sent my application fees to BITS, Pilani, in Indian currency. It was the amount an Indian applicant was supposed to pay. The BITS website’s application status showed that the demand draft I had sent was faulty. I called them to inquire. Their answer was that because I was a foreigner, I was required to pay 30 dollars. I had to state my confusion about my status as an applicant and promise to send additional amount to cover the fees if I was really required to pay in dollars. Here I appeared to demand that I deserved certain privileges as a Nepali. Was I unconsciously prepared to assert such privilege?

NOW, about the recent trip. The ambiguity began as early as the inquiry for conference registration. Were we supposed to pay as foreign delegates in dollars? No. They allowed us to pay as Indians. We were happy. We reached the venue amidst similar ambiguities in platforms, in buses, in trains, in market places. What would appear non-Indian in us if we didn’t speak a word to co-passengers, bystanders and passers-bye ? Even if we did, our Hindi might sound as one of those shaky varieties many non-Hindi speakers utter in that same soil. And somewhere I was tempted to believe that the Nepali accent was not unique for Nepal only. In the night of 6 January, while inside Ahmadabad Mail (from Delhi to Ahmadabad), we were in the neighbourhood of a group of women who spoke a language other than Hindi which sounded to me like the prototypical brahmanic Nepali accent.  I was rather surprised there was such an Indian language (or a dialect?) and even asked my friends to listen. The group got off somewhere the next morning before I got up to take a chance to find out what they spoke.

Back again on the conference.  Three of us, along with seven participants from different countries,  helped make the conference international; Nepal counted among the countries represented. I had expected our certificates to have been piled with those of other foreigners. So, after the valedictory session, I went to the desk titled “Foreign Delegates” to collect my certificate.  I was not there. I was among the natives. I was a bit interested to know what had guided my friends straight to this common desk. But I did not ask why they did not think their certificates might as well have been kept in the foreigner’s side. I only managed to make a frivolous remark, ” Who are we? Are we (not) foreigners?” But, I think, none of us had taken these questions as important. If any of my friends had, I would like to know even now.

Who says emails are just emails

I sometimes write fairly long emails, especially when I know that people other side read them. Some of my lovable writings have emanated from the spirit of initiating or continuing a discourse in this medium. No doubt many of my long mails have just been my worldviews, my grumbles. But, I always take care of completeness and readability and try to maintain my sustained presence as a communicator. In some cases my correspondences take the form of critiques; it is here I experience some knack for rhetoric.

Before posting some excerpts of my own communications, I would present the following lines from one of the emails I received from Professor Khachig Tölölyan, Editor of  Diaspora: A Journal of Transnational Studies.

“Permit me to offer you a bit of friendly advice: a young scholar, or a mature scholar starting to work in a new field, is always “in danger” of letting the few existing authorities set the research agenda. You mustn’t let my work, or especially Bill Safran’s, or of the others who have written in the journal, get in your way. Of course it is the essence of scholarly and intellectual responsibility to be INFORMED of what has already been thought and done by respectable colleagues, but, again, not to let their work set your research agenda.”

Now, extracts from a few of my emails. I avoid mentioning ‘whom’ and ‘when.’

ONE

“What attracts me about Nepal is there are a lot of unexplored issues to deal with. And the same issues distract me. We have lo——ng hours of power cuts, and worst of all, the most frequent strikes and protests in the world. Lucky that I stay in the university quarters, and am able to type these words now. I can see the entire neighborhood in appalling darkness outside my window at this moment. It is 11: 51 pm here.

Darker nights are ahead. We had 10 hours of no-electricity till this week. The authorities have decided to reward us 4 more hours from tomorrow! Inverters are making fortune, though. I am sure the university will also stop the generators once the end-semester exams are over, winter vacation begins and the majority (the needy students) go home. Any time our petrol pumps hide diesel or run short of it, we must take refuge to poor candles. And I laugh at my plan to pursue Ph D in candlelight.

Other universities share the uncertainties the country undergoes these days. My university, which has sustained unpredictable political changes and occasional interferences, at least, appears to be a nicer location.”

TWO

“It was interesting to read about universities working to Americanize themselves. So is the case here. But it is as much Americanization as Europeanization. Academicians are not tired of talking about ‘western’ standards, and ‘western’ exposure is as valued for promotional opportunities as for self-aggrandizement. I would call it a right form of neocolonialism in the case of Nepali academia.

[...] The competition is always between the Indian/European/American graduates! And promotion sometimes is more than Ph. D and talent — political proximity, activism, bribery and anything of the sort. I’m sorry I have to tell you this.

[...] I am happy about the two decades you say I have. God rescue me out of the aforesaid extra-academic attributes. I hate “taking ghee out with a crooked finger” [We have a proverb: “One cannot take ghee out with a straight finger.” It means you must sometimes use crooked means to achieve great things.] . You may be familiar with societies of developing countries. Well, life goes on like this.”

THREE

“If knowledge alone sufficed, universities would not invite people with limited degrees and  give them all-rounder’s merit. If degree alone was a bottom-line, many disciplines would never take shape. This is more so in case of growing institutions like our new universities, and we must be thankful they did take the risk. You are one of the products of such venture: I have been one of those who plunged into similar venture. If KU did not take the risk, and if after taking risk prioritized degree to hard work and commitment, programs like Media Studies, Pharmacy, Environment Science, Environmental Engineering, Biotechnology among others could never never never, YES, never start, and you and I would have forgotten each other forever. If KU was specific about degrees, it would only be running after people with specific degrees, for all new ventures — people with a qualification strength throughout from Intermediate to Masters, and even above!”

Titbits from Trip

I have chosen not to write on the ‘mainstream’ of my trip to India — the confusions and crises, pains and pleasures of nine days out of home — though they have added to my perceptions on  people and places. They would feature mostly in the stories of my co-travellers, and in the photos I have shot.  I would rather write on small things, small enough to be forgotten within a short time.

Delays

Well, the whole trip was marked by delays. It began with our early (2 pm) local bus ride to Kathmandu that took more than two hours, later than a 4:15 KU bus would. Then we had to wait in the printing press for some copies of Bodhi. What’s more, we lingered for a quarter  of an hour in Jamal vacillating between taxi and micro before finally paying a fortune to the former.

Then three historic delays by trains. First, by Gorakhdham from Gorakhpur to Delhi, which dropped us there more than seven hours later than the usual time. We had only a little time to window-shop in Pahadganj before realizing that the next train, Ahmedabad Mail, was picking up from Old Delhi. The second delay was by Ahmedabad Mail, which dropped us in the destination about five hours later. Third – who can forget it – was Gorakhpur Express, which not only made labyrinth rounds of Gujarat, MP, and UP, but also kept waiting in the signals.

Above all, delays covered most of our thoughts on the nine-day trip.

Flight of a cellphone

Sounds curious, doesn’t it? It is nothing but a theft. Wait, I didn’t lose one, nor my friends. A man did. He was dozing off at the bus window with his right hand exposing the two-simed cellphone when a smart Kalankian made a comfortable grab and scampered into the darkness. Well, it added to the usual myths that Kalanki is this type of place especially for carefree(less) passengers.

After that everyone began to love their cellphones.

“Do not compare people.” “Haan, do not compare.”

Gorakhdham express for Delhi. Midnight on 5 Jan. A ‘gentle-looking’ man slips onto a neighbouring berth after having bribed the ‘notorious’ TT. He has migrated from the general class to grab a better place because he knows how to cajole his TT-brother to find a bed. He doesn’t want us around. He says, “Yahan se hatiye bhaiya, mujhe dikkat hota hai.” My friend blurts out, “Aare bhaiya kyon dikkat hota hai, sabhi to aise hi chal raha hai.” The gentle man does not budge. He wants us to give him peace. My friend adds, “Suno bhaiya, the only difference is you bribed the TT and we didn’t.” I say, “Suno bhaiya, hum aapko chhuenge tak nahi, agar chhue to bhi sorry boldenge.” Meanwhile, one kind fellow offers, “Aaiye bhaiya, yahan. sab log achchhe nahin hote.” My friend says, “Dekho, woh kya bol rahe hai. Tum to…” I then interrupt, “Do not compare people.”

Inside a train

“Haan, do not compare” , says the victor and goes to sleep.

New Delhi: Old Delhi

We had a few hours left to wander/wonder in Delhi. But, famished by the train, we first decided to feast with a non-vegetarian food. We found a place, went its upstairs and placed a gentlemanly order for chicken biryani. It came but with large pieces of chicken (mostly bones!). Biryani with bones — it was something new. But we tried to please ourselves with the maxim: “Hunger is larger than the food.”

Then we were tempted by the Pahadganj market. Cheap things. My friends wanted to have their fill for shopping. I was more concerned about my pinching shoes and approaching journey. Meanwhile, we entered a cybercafe for some reason. The cafe owner, despite being busy with his favourite porno-views (which he regained when we left), let us use the computers. There we came to notice that the next train was leaving from Old Delhi!

Where was Old Delhi? I asked a policeman who said it was several kilometers away, and that we could reach the bus stop after five minutes’ walk beyond the railway station. My friends (probably) happened to pick up “five minutes walk” and insisted on walking to Old Delhi. I was sure enough to speed them up for a bus ride. We hurried into one, and this gave us the experience of a crowded local bus ride in Delhi. It is there we saw another Kalankian sight.

At one stop, the conductor shouted twice,  “O re, Pahalman, upar aajaao, darbaja chhodo.” After a while the Pahalman did his job. He began a row. There was a chaos. The bus stopped. The conductor shouted, “Bahar bhago, yahan kyon ladte ho.” The Pahalman was out and away — with a man’s wallet.

“I teach Law!”

It is usual for any railway passenger to befriend a stranger if the journey is hours long.  Ahmadabad Mail gave us one fellow. He had a friend in Nepal. He called her and got me to chat with her. This made pakkah that he had certain affinity with Nepalis.  He told us a lot about train services, Ahmadabad, Anand and Ballav Bidhya Nagar. Later, he also let us use his phone to contact the conference organizers.

But this was not all.

At some point in the route he bought alcohol, incited a fellow passenger to take it despite the latter’s fear of being caught. They drank it under the noses of the TT and the policemen. He borrowed cigarette from another man and puffed it. In semi-drunk (or semi-sober?) state he urinated out of the train door.

He said he was a railway vigilance officer above five hundred people (This was to mean that his accomplices in our train did not need to worry). And he also said with pride, “Apart from my job in the railway, I teach law in a college.” When he said this, a man who had refused to drink with him stole into my face and smiled.

Well, there was nothing to say about breaking law versus teaching law.

Our TTphobia

TTs, people said, were a hated lot. We knew it well in Gorakhdham. We saw only two of them. One sold unreserved seats surreptitiously, another threatened people into paying without a single word. But we did not have to have any hassle with them.

On our way back from Anand to Ahmadabad we got into a wrong train out of ignorance. We had tickets for an Express train while the one we got into happened to be a Super Fast. We knew this only when the TT harassed a man with similar ticket. We anticipated some hassle. I, who was carrying the ticket, particularly groped for some argument to avoid paying an arbitrary fine. I was planning to say, “Well, bhaiya ji, we are not familiar with your railway regulations because we don’t belong here.  But because we have bought your service and not stolen anything, we take it as customers’ right to demand decent treatment. Alternatively, if you wish, we offer to offer the penalty money to Lord Pashupatinath in your name.”

The bhaiya ji never turned up, nor was my philosophy transferred. But I personally experienced an acute TTphobia all along.

“Nepalis are good people, but they can’t help taking alcohol.”

When I woke up after a slumber in the Morning of January 11, my friend had already befriended a middle-aged co-passenger who had introduced himself as a retired army personnel. This gentleman had worked with Nepalis in the Gorkha regiments and known their manners and choices.

He told us a lot about the role of Nepalis (military, migrants and workers) in India.  And one thing he reported was this: “Nepali boys are brave, honest and obedient, but one thing I’m sure about is they won’t go to sleep without a little alcohol.”

No comments about it. May either this man or those boys know what’s what.

IC Bills at the Checkpost

From Gorakhpur (on our way back home) a group of Nepalis from Indian army came along with us. One happened to be in our vehicle, while about three dozens reserved others. This was a sufficient crowd for the customs police. The Indians let us pass. The Nepalis in the border let us pass when we said we were teachers. And the Nepalis ahead of the border wanted to see our bags. We showed them.

Meanwhile the crowd arrived. If every ‘boy’ had to open his bag, it would take ages. But one of them appeared to know the quicker custom way. He flashed out a few Indian bills and managed to thrust them into a non-uniformed hand. And lo, every bag was happy, every boy was through.

And we had the first sense of touching the native soil.

A Poetic Jugalbandi

My friend Prakash Thapa has recently responded to my poem “I wait for a Rescuer” through his facebook notes. I have posted the response here. Our ‘facebook critics’ call it a poetic jugalbandi. Whatever epithet from others,  I consider Prakash’s work a fine creation, and finer when separated from mine. But I find mine more embellished in connection with his. Maybe something like this can continue among the circle of poets as ours.

Both poems are in the following link:

The Poems

Were these my rhetorics?

The following are some of the lines I have loved as my best creations.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A bit of sensibility from the phone owners, yes, only the readiness to keep the phones silent or switched off for a while would help the good moment pass better. So, the fact is:  it only takes us to realize that a new technology not only poses on us the question of keeping up with it, but of doing it decently. [Cellphone and Sensibility]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Whether it is the people demanding the nation’s complete restructuring, or those seeking greater representation on the ground of region, race and ethnicity, or those demanding assurance and security of jobs, all have blocked, burnt and blood-smeared the highways in the course of making their causes strident. With this, Nepal has stepped into one of the very chaotic times. If we believe in the existence of a silver lining, there may be creativity in the chaos, especially because it helps make genuine causes audible, and forces changes. There is only one way to optimism: we are naturally no lovers of a downfall, and all that we are doing is for transformation!                                                      [Highway Politics]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

This time national sentiment was tricky. It led to spontaneous prioritization of Prashant’s idolization despite other more serious issues to deal with in the country. While a chunk of Nepali population was raining SMS money for this chosen Indian Idol contestant, Kpilvastu was burning. Funds were raised in lakhs and spent through Indian cell phones while hundreds of homeless people were searching their homes in rubbles and our poor government was offering to distribute relief in a few thousands. But, again, cheers to the talent hunt that it awakened nationalism in us and gave us our Idol. It proved that our youths have the power to mobilize and be mobilized for good. No point to grumble about it.       [Idols and Ironies]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The main problem today is that we take politicians for either novices or betrayers, unmindful of their collective potentials for optimistic reformations. Recent history clarifies their capacity to bring forth exemplary changes. So, even when the majority of wise people live in skepticism and distrust for the leading political parties, the time still entrusts the parties with greater responsibilities. Let us allow our politicians to work their best and act ourselves as responsible watchdogs. It does not so much matter not to add a few to many privileges we enjoy. But it does matter not to allow even a speck of privilege many of our fellow citizens have so far been deprived of. Now is rather a time to reflect on these questions:  How many of the senior intellectuals are worried about the growing trend of brain drain because the society and institutions they lead are not able to attract and satisfy the aspiring young people of the country? How many aspiring youths are prepared to take any of the seniors as role models for tomorrow? What if the growing generation of intellectuals stop putting faith on their predecessors? [Reflections on Intellectuals]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Lok-tantriks act in functional similarity with the traditional tantriks. They identify themselves with their ideological deities. They perform rituals to generate and sustain political fandom. The fans live in illusion of ideological fullness. The fullness is at times kindled into the frenzy of breaches and blockades. And the general public, the most docile of the human race, keep shrugging it off as the fruit of the April Revolution yawning unawares in wait of a time when time will right all the wrongs. The Lok-tantriks are everywhere. They may bear a brand membership recently bestowed by a ‘Loktantrik’ party though they hardly have any time for the perusal of the party constitution and manifestos, or for roots and evolution of the party’s ideology itself. There is this magic of having a brand name that has offered overnight aggrandizement. There is activism that heads towards an opportunity – an immediate compensation for the ideological penury. The necessity of indoctrination is a far cry. And, if not your windows, Mr. X’s doors are always open for them.          [Nepali Loktantrism]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Opportunists usually fail to address the need of the mass. Then general frustration takes roots and question of misrepresentation becomes crucial.  People wait to punish such rulers. This is one of the causes of the poor show of UML and NC in the recent elections. But the elections have a message to both victors and losers. May the victors retain both cadres and voters. May the losers preserve their cadres and retrieve the voters. If politics is a game, as the common cliché puts it, every player ought to know that it neither has consistent rules nor definite consequences. Voters are inconsistent when politics of transition continues. Victory depends.  [Contamination Syndrome]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

At times, while I am fixing details in a readymade letter-template, a colleague makes a frivolous remark, “Who is going to remain here as a future generation scientist, doctor, leader, teacher etc. etc.?”  Another colleague says, “You and I, my dear”, with a book of GRE at hand and a hazy smile. Among adults the preparation for the escape is an arduous, secretive affair.  For the younger ones, it is an open, confident and carefree adventure. The better-half of the man with GRE Book asks my better-half, “Isn’t ‘Sir’ trying for abroad?” My better-half asks me the same question with a ‘Why’ at the beginning. It happens very often but I have not fathomed the answer to this particular ‘Why’ because, as I said, I stopped putting this question to others long ago. My wife’s uncle’s son-in-law is in the USA. My wife’s brother in law is in Australia. My friend is in UK. Many familiar faces are cramming difficult words behind their sleepy faces at the approach of a GRE/TOEFL date. My near and dear ones are sick of my indifference to their repeated ‘Whys.’ I have so far proved that I am not one of those best minds. [Endorsing the Escapes: How Long?]

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

AND SOME MORE AHEAD…

Dimensions of Media Studies

[Excerpts from my recent article]

….

Media studies adopts at least two semantic dimensions. The first continues the traditional notion of critical scholarship focusing on the study of form and effects of media. This still takes media studies as a component of cultural studies giving precedence to critical inquiries into the contents. The second dimension has a wider range of integrations of both theory and practice. Media studies in this sense is not limited to the study of contents produced elsewhere, but also sets compulsions to produce, and prepare for critical inquiries within the stipulated university space and time. As a result, it acquires a thrust on producing employable graduates who have the skills and training to work in and across all major media platforms. Balanced within cultural studies and emerging media technologies, media studies in its contemporary dimensions has potential for constant modifications and thus manages to meet the needs of the convergence.

Besides training people for convergent media scenarios within a technically sophisticated context, media studies can serve in other areas more applicable in a developing countries. Foremost, it prepares media educators for secondary, higher secondary and university levels. The programme’s thrust on the balance of theory, productivity and practice allows the preparation of professionals who have relatively more extensive exposure on research, production and practice of media. Consequently, it reduces the politics of precedence between professors and professionals by virtue of the possibility of developing the qualities of both in individuals. Another contribution would be in the preparation of potential media entrepreneurs. In both cases above, a developing country is more benefitted. A full-fledged course in Media studies, if managed properly with the best theoretical and practical grounding on the major media platforms, may do nearly as much as the courses on journalism, communication studies, media science, computer science and literary studies can do jointly.