Metaphors I Live By

Hard to say whether metaphors live in me or I live by them. Probably they occupy the little poetic space in me.  Or, they exert constant expression in my way of looking at things. They take shape in solitary musings, and appear while in commune with people. They creep in friendly gossip, and in unfriendly gibberish. In poems and prattles; in meetings and partings.

And this song, after about one and half year of creation, brings afresh the same implications:

I lived within native confines

Assuming roles manifold

That made everyone beyond

Aliens and strangers

As I boarded my first flight

To scale the airs beyond

And shared destiny with aliens

I felt I was one of them

Now after days together

With souls from unknown lands

For the first time in my life

I feel like a human being

I will go back, resume my roles,

But continue to sail beyond

With my new-found webs and wings

To live like a human being

The two words, webs and wings, had mattered to most of my State Department Summer Institute (SDSI) friends in Gainesville, Florida, last year. Everyone identified the metaphors with their  experience in the Institute of Journalism and Media, where we took lessons on online journalism — learned web-2 tools. Web had denotation with web-2, but what about wings? I was clearly thinking about the networking skills. But how would the wings help me live like a human being? Someone had asked me. “Yes, I am creating a new society of my own with you people in it,” was my answer. “But though wings help you fly beyond, you are thinking of going back to your place?” It was another witty fellow, who was cherishing the dream of returning to the dreamland after a while.

My answer to him was:

“Well, my friend, wings expand your horizons. The question is what you do with them. They help you fly. Now, do you take the typical Icarus way? The Daedalus way? Or, you just fly like a real bird  — to return to the nest when the day’s adventures are over. I would equate this concept of flying with growing. A tree grows. A creeper grows.  If I am to use one of them for a metaphor, I will not take the second. The higher the  tree grows, the wider and stronger it holds the ground; so I choose to grow the tree way. The creeper way — I need support to expand, and later my own fruits outweigh my forms and threaten to pull me down!”

That was it for one of those valedictory parties with most of those seventeen folks. But little more to my “I feel like a human being” musings. The party ended up with a little chaos when the host’s  Robert (name changed)  chose to avoid the melodies and movements of the internationals and sneaked out of the house, to be found nowhere for a while. The host could not bear this surreptitious flight; one of us was to blame for opening the door. Then? The house began to reverberate in loud sobs. One of my half-sober friends had this for me, “Do you still feel like a human being, Kafle?’

“I now doubt I do.” I smiled in full sobriety.

That does not end here, anyway. Next morning, before packing up, I rushed to the computer lab to catch up with the new webs and wings. Two fellows, who had chanced to be absent the night before, blurted out, “So, the party was grand, the poem was great, and Robert enjoyed a lot, but what was the chaos about?”

An apology had reached them earlier — the webs are great!

“Hmm! You missed it,” was all that I wanted to say.

“But, who is this Robert? I never saw him in this one month.”

“He is s a tomcat.”

“Oh, I thought it’s her boyfriend!”

………………

Answering students

One of my recent activities with students has been to communicate in emails. I assigned one student from each class to send  me three questions, and answered them in detail. Presented here are two of the questions and their answers.

1.  What are the crucial points to be considered in assessing a text critically?

Being critical has two dimensions. The first has to do with criticizing — showing shortcomings, disagreeing with certain aspects, indicating overstatements and understatements, or questioning the text. This is what you do in Critical Thinking while practicing the four levels of interacting with a text. In this respect, when you write criticism, you use negative remarks and questions such as: “Rushdie’s ideas may not be accepted even by Hindu fundamentalists,” or “Is it good to generalize that faith in gods and authority is a major deterrent to progress?”. The second dimension of being critical has a wider scope than just digging into questionable points. It has to do with showing more than what appears on the surface. You look for both closer and more distant connections of the themes, arguments, and characters. If you say, “In a deeper level of her narratives, Serena Nanda presents her belief that arranged marriages are more binding and permanent,” you are thinking critically. For yet another example of criticality, you can take this remark: “A Nepali reader would find Nanda’s narratives as reflections of the practices in Nepali society.”

A critical thinker tries to examine both implications and associations. Your knowledge of the context to which the text belongs enables you to find more contextual meanings. I want to remind you of two of my examples in the class. I told you that your familiarity with the story of the Mahabharata would shape your understanding of “Yudhisthira’s Wisdom,” and that you were likely to read it being based on your earlier knowledge on the characters of the Pandava brothers. I also told you that I did additional readings of half a dozen different convocation speeches in order to understand Rushdie’s text, and that this helped me see how he departed from the common graduation rituals.

2. What is your favourite novel and who is your favourite writer?

Thanks. Well, it’s tricky. I don’t cherish favourites and idols/ideals. Long back I read a novel by a Belorussian writer in Hindi adaptation, titled Pyar aur Patthar. I can guess its English translation to be “Love and Rock,” but this does not seem to carry the worth. I loved it so much even with my beginner’s Hindi. It was in 1990. I would love to read the novel again, but I have never gotten hold of it despite my searches. Thus, my favourite would be one which leaves me this passion for rereading. I read Lil Bahadur Chhetri’s Brahmaputraka Chheuchhau with the same passion. You may be wondering why I have not mentioned any English novel being an English teacher. I don’t in fact have any language-based preferences. I have loved most of the nineteenth century English novels like Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter, The Mill on the Floss, Far from the Madding Crowd, Sons and Lovers…. I have read and read literary works of merit.

My favorite writer? Well, the above answer might define. But let me give more than one name: Laxmi Prasad Devkota, Lekhnath Paudyal, Premchand, Leo Tolstoy, D. H. Lawrence and Chinua Achebe. There are many more, though.

Little on My Childhood

[My four-year old ruminations]

The early years of my life were spent in a joint family. My grandparents partly looked after me along with my brother and sister. I can’t exactly say when the family split and I was fully in hands of parents and my sister. Sister was all there to bring us up. I don’t suppose she was old enough to look after me, but she must have been a reliable companion for us. The family must have split around 2032 after the birth of the one next to me. This was when the youngest uncle was married and his son was born. Our aunt was not a woman who could keep relatives. Her divisive mentality and uncle’s henpecked arrogance compelled my parents to choose partition. The arrogance displayed to such an extent, as mother often reports, that uncle once attacked our father with a Jaanto (a mortar). Father could dodge somehow. The mortar hit a stone and broke about a quarter. Interestingly, it came to our share in partition, and is there at home even today, a token of that historic bickering between brothers.

Mother says she began a new, though hard, life of full independence then. Like other daughters-in-law and housewives, she had undergone grumbles and tribulations in the joint family. Father often used to listen to others and sometimes be partial towards her. But she says he was never hard and aggressive. All those grumbles of the joint family ended after the separation. It so happened that our unmarried second uncle joined us within a few months  because he could not adjust with aunt, his pernickety sister-in-law. Later, grandparents packed up and joined us. Again the family grew and became big, and is so till today. Nobody could actually put up with our aunt at that time.

It is often said that I was a silent and sensitive child, unlike my brother who was bold and talkative. I was born a big healthy baby. Mother says I was as big as my son was at his birth. It was not a surprise that I should grow tall and lanky, in sharp contrast with the initial prediction that I would become fat and big. There was a bitter cause behind this. I had drunk a bowl (small though) of kerosene when I was about three years old. It was the day of my maternal uncle’s wedding. Father had gone out leading the procession to Nangrung, the bride’s place. Mother was busy somewhere while I was in our main house with grandmother. Meanwhile, I had asked her for water in thirst. She had told me to go in and drink from a pot with a bowl. Then I had happened to serve myself with kerosene and drink a bowlful of it. Mother says she had had a hard time saving me. In fact, the mood of Rateuli had been completely spoilt by my life-and-death struggle with the kerosene. This incident pushed me entirely towards weakness for an extended period of time. They say I was burnt inside and it took a lot of years to repair the damage. Some even say that the kerosene had sharpened my mind at the cost of my body. The fact that I was intelligent throughout my schooling and always stood first must have made them believe so.

Directly from the Writing Classroom!

As you set out to write:

Switch from one platform to another. Make your preliminary notes and outline in a piece of paper. This is the productive phase. Expand your notes into paragraphs while you type/write in your computer. This is a time to let your writing grow. Do not check your spontaneity in this phase. Avoid ‘backward’ movement. Later, the thought that you could finish your job makes you happier.  Do not add any new points to the outline notes if it bothers you. Do not deviate from the outline because it bothers you!

It is good to put your work aside after the first draft is ready. For a while, you may feel pressed with the urgency to finish. No, you should allow the draft to mature. It is a time to relax with the satisfaction that you have created ‘two’ pages out of the blank regardless of the possible errors.

Later, when you are fully prepared to tackle your lapses yourself, read the draft onscreen once and get a print of it.  Edit it yourself or pass it to someone for feedback. You can discern certain places for changes. Indicate the changes clearly. When the paper is dirty enough with comments and proofs, work in the computer.  If you need any feedback on your work, show it to someone who does not expect too much of gratitude from you. Or let it not be someone who only ‘sniffs at the dirt’ and misses the fragrance lying side by side. Also, let it not be a person from whom you do not expect positive feedback. It should be someone who thinks that the opportunity to read your draft is a reward in itself.  But, have you been able to make your creation so rewarding?

Ask about your weaknesses first making sure that your reader has time and desire to tell you the strengths. Do not defend your writing before you hear the strengths.  Do remember to ask about the strong aspects, and as you hear them, show gratitude. Explain your weaknesses only if you need to. Otherwise, the best conclusion is to thank your reader for reading and showing your lapses.

Writing teachers say writing is an art.  Readers experience the artistry. No writer is fully satisfied because s/he knows something was missed. Sometimes suddenly interesting ideas click when the work has gone out of hand. This always keeps your text in the phase of becoming. So, there is no worrying about what you have not done; the fact is the text is never complete each time a new reader goes through it.

On the Fifteenth Success

We worked because we wanted to. We worked and it happened — KU’s fifteenth convocation, a big event getting bigger each year.

Work for it began about a week ago. I mean my part. And, the part initially included an English-man’s chores — chopping and chiseling English wherever it got shaky. Then it included attending a dozen or so local journalists in a press conference (On 21 Oct.), which contained a sermon and a feast from ‘our’ side, and from their sides nodes,  smiles  and camera flashes. Third, I was helping embellish the speeches of two lady ‘masters of ceremony’ till 10:30 pm of 22 Oct, which was after a hectic day — Geomatics class, CE class, Madhurya-meeting, VC’s article, CE class, lunch, VC’s article; appointment with Julian Zix, Prof. PRA, VC and two policemen  ( I had nothing to do with the law; it was only an admission case); and shopping at Banepa.

I know, only a handful of teachers have offices during the late post meridian. For others, a convocation is a holiday.  This is why a local weekly could claim last year that teachers boycotted the program as if we post-meridian trouble-takers were not teachers here. This year someone was complaining:  KU had tricked by putting convocation on Friday to deprive its dedicated inmates of the following day that would come as a holiday.

Well, the blotches notwithstanding, the big event was really big. A few points to note for the next event: you are not to blame if people with good intention break few of your barriers during their one-day outing to this beautiful campus; scholars can also become a crowd but you cannot help;  give what they deserve and expect only that they take it. What is the message of the crowd nonetheless? It is that KU is a big place in its merits though the merits are beyond some people’s understanding.

Some worthy tidbits from the day — our Dean’s smile, Hemanta’s happiness and gratitude, a meaningful talk with Mr. Kunda Dixit, Interviewing Hasko for Indrawati Weekly, chance meeting with Dr. Kishor Shrestha and his promise to resume collaboration, snaps with graduates, Prof. Tuladhar’s offer to let me translate Madhav Kumar Nepal’s speech.

The event was a circuit-breaker though the frustration of having several things pending was seeking outlets. I was happy for being a part of the efforts to make it happen. The real satisfaction came from overhearing “I wish I had been able to study in this university” ; “I had never realized that KU had such merits” ; “Can they establish similar university in the far-west?”; “Even the prime minister had a smooth day unlike in Purvanchal and Tribhuvan Universities.”

The last thought: I want to wear a gown of KU after three years.

On the Lost Idea

Sometimes good ideas occur at odd times. For example, I get through my writer’s block while at the restroom. Similar discovery takes place inside a crowded bus, at the barber’s or while picking up vegetable at a vendor’s. The restroom-creation is generally well-timed with the natural releases and mostly comes forth in writing as I happened to be at home. The bus-, barber-, and vegetable-time thoughts are likely to go into oblivion. Later, I just have a tendency to remember that I had forgotten  an important idea. Unrecorded, it only gives me pressure but never comes back.

I conceived an article a few nights ago. It was at the end of one of my late-night stays with rhetoric and editorials, and probably at the afterthought of an interesting treatise. I went to bed ruminating how interesting the would-be article would be if I could manage to write it up. I got up to begin a new day and to ache myself with new agendas. The interesting article disappeared. I have not been able to recall it. I have been trying to relive the late night, the restroom, entry to the bedroom, thoughts before the slumber, the article preceding it, people who could possibly have featured in my reflections…. No, it does not help.

There could be better issues to delve into, but I am worried about that article. I take it as a kind of miscarriage. It has prevented further conception. I need more nutrition to have a healthier beginning. So, the post-festival mentality brings me amidst new books and numerous readings. I put aside the close-to-finish Ph. D. proposal and grasp these books — found online! But will the lost article come back some day through these new readings?

Post-festival Ruminations

Two festivals have left me puzzled. As always. Something like being left to decide on several alternatives immediately after graduating from a university. Festivals demand concentration. Other priorities are put aside for a while. In the same way studies overlook other choices of life. So, when both festivals and studies are over, the temporarily sidelined chores become pressing.

In my case, however, as the mood of festival subsides slowly, study priorities have come to the fore. I need to do  a lot of reading and writing at a time I have lost some of the self-confidence I had earlier. I have been underestimated in some corners,  for a simple confusion. I believe this overlooks the credentials that helped keep me in KU for about a decade. This equally surprises my acquaintances who believe as much the naturalness of shortcomings as in my potentials to overcome them. For the time being I work with the conviction that one failure has helped me explore three different critical areas successfully. For a while, I remind myself of the fact that I have just scratched a bit of the world and caught sight of just a few of its people. So, why worry about one of the thousand potential failures in store for me in the 25 active years to come?

Well, the festivals leave my accounts low, and pressures high. I recall the last one year and see only two publications. I don’t see any professional presentations. This is where the pressure lies despite the accounts. When was the last time I wrote a few paragraphs of worth? The USA trip gave me much, but I limited it to a few ruminations. The SAUFEST trip to Chandigarh had a tremendous stock of topics, but I did not want to record the unexciting days. I have had worthy thoughts on unworthy occasions, but I let the unworthiness justify the avoidance of creations.

These post-festival ruminations remind me of the lag. It’s still up to me to decide on the speed of work.  For now, at least, I must wake up to prove that I was not, am not and will not be an idiot

Chaos, New Session and Old Mentality

Despite series of negotiations, there are chances of chaos at the KU gate again. The talks between KU and the locals have reached a deadlock and partially failed in that KU has not  fulfilled one of their demands, which is to convert this academia into a recruitment center for sturdy bouncers.

It is admission time and the chaos gives grounds for certain speculations. First, someone must be mudslinging at KU so that the number of students declines. This will ultimately give way to a discourse that the present management has ceased functioning tactfully. This further strengthens the logic of dissenters — the already grumbling staffs and students. Second, someone wants to divert the attention of prospective students towards other mushrooming institutes.  This is to say, the chaos comes in a series of foul games played continuously from the past. As the cases of last four years tell, KU has faced disturbances during examinations and admission times only. Can’t it be the deed of an organized group trying to defame the University to the benefit of the crawling institutions?

Third, the chaos adds to the common contagion of ‘transitional times’, when people have misinterpreted freedom for claiming less-than-practical privileges. The villagers in this sense have strictly local causes than any manipulation from outside. However, this speculation lacks warrants.

People around have either revelled or marvelled at the fact that only a handful of ‘undermatrics’ have shaken a university.  Some insiders would judge the crisis to be a consequence as much of ‘transitions’ outside as of inside.  New session has begun with the traffic of students seeking admissions. Majority teachers  anticipate a successful new year despite the goings-on beyond the gates.

I would only wait to see  if my observation  about the coming times is true: “New session is at the threshold, but old mentality is ahead of it!’

Acting As Educated

One quality that separates educated people from the uneducated is the degree of tolerance they apply in judging things. The same quality sometimes puts them in disadvantage when they deem it fit to be professionals when in fact they are required to be humans. Checking impulses from committing serious errors, they try to avoid meddling with less or un-productive issues. If alternatives abound, critical involvement becomes secondary to them.

This is the reason why KU teachers and staffs have chosen not to show themselves to and see the agitating locals of Bakhundol. When the locals blocked the road to Araniko Highway, burnt tires at the main gate, threatened passers-by with action and passed a notorious order to vacate the residences; KUians took help of local administration. They worked with the logic that as KU is a national establishment, the state has primary responsibility to protect it from damages of any sorts. The agitation seemed to take a destructive turn after KU literally ceased functioning in Dhulikhel. The agitators turned desperate when they knew that KU would rather go for alternatives than succumb to their demands. Then followed the creation and publicity of various myths. One was that water and electricity were cut off. That eighty five or more of KU staffs had vacated the quarters out of fear was the other.

KU even did not defy these myths. Doing this would only highlight the myth-makers. There were bigger things to think over.

Fifteen paradoxes

Young:

1. ‘I’ll be right, the world will be right’ — yesterday.

2. ‘I’m always right, but the world is wrong’ — today.

3. ‘I could be right, but the world was wrong’ — tomorrow.

4.  ‘They’re just stupid.’ — about (grand) parents.

3. ‘Why do the idiots want me to do things?!’ — about mentors.

Middle-aged:

1. ‘I’m much older than you’ –  in front of the peers.

2. ‘I’m much younger than you’ — in front of the young.

3. ‘What did you do at all?’ — to the old.

4. ‘What have you seen yet?’ — to the young.

5. ‘I’m neither stupid nor ignorant’ — to the world.

Old:

1. ‘I am young enough (or too old) to taste the fruit.’

2. ‘I am too old (or young enough) to sow the seeds.’

3. ‘Gone are the days,’ when times are bad.

4. ‘I’m still young,’ when times are good.

5. ‘The young are ignorant, the middle-aged stupid.’