Three Days of Bandh

As is routine in Nepal, if any organized group harbors some form of grievance, whether it be political, socio-economic, or pertaining to human rights, a strike or bandh is announced and is often applied nationwide. When a bandh is called, most individuals stay indoors to avoid getting caught in potential ignitions of violence on the streets. The only allowable means of transportation are a bicycle or one’s own two feet, and failure to abide by this rule is likely to result in a charred vehicle and a black eye. Offices, particularly those with financial dealings, are also advised to remain shut, though I have been witness to instances where the offices only appear to be shut. Operations continue behind closed shutters and doors, with padlocks seemingly still in place, creating a sense of secrecy only successfully done by underground associations.

In this instance, the three-day bandh was a continuation of one called earlier this month by the United Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist), commonly known as the UCPN(M) party, in response to the killings of seven Dalit squatters in the Dudejhari forest by the Nepal police and Armed Police Force. According to the Himalayan Times, the Maoists are demanding that those killed be declared as martyrs, while those injured receive appropriate treatment. A website dedicated to coverage and announcements of bandhs, aptly named ‘Nepal Bandh: bandh events in Nepal,’ claims that the UCPN-Maoist party is also “putting forward its demand, among others, restoration of civilian supremacy and formation of a national government under its leadership.” Under their opposition and newly formed coalition Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist-Leninist), a constitution is in draft phase and scheduled to be finalized and enforced by May 28, 2010. Somehow, I’ve gotten the feeling over the past couple of weeks that most have little faith in this promise.

During the bandh, I struggled to refrain from taking photographs even of the mundane scenes here in Nawalparasi, as I was cautioned of the general wariness that people understandably feel after years of instability and stunted development. For one, they often abhor the idea that the photographer may be capitalizing on their state of poverty and hardship. Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world (the 48th, to be exact), where 10% of the population is privy to 50% of the wealth, while the bottom 40% takes 10%*. The second cause of suspicion is due to trauma from the People’s War or Nepalese civil war, which lasted from 1996-2006. Abductions, rapes, and killings of civilians thought to be supporting one side or the other seem to have created a sense of paranoia that still lingers in the countryside. The concept of photographs as information plays on this. Still, there are many who find the idea of being photographed very glamorous and thrilling or completely irrelevant, and it’s in these instances that I naturally feel the most comfortable indulging in photography.

For us, in Nawalparasi, the effects of the bandh could be felt on its eve. As I scootered into town with a colleague, we were met by a blockade of Maoist supporters, elevated among burning tires and the soaring Maoist flag. Needless to say, we were forced to turn right back around and accept that our business in town would be placed on hold for at least another three days. En route back home, luck was certainly not with us, as we realized we were faced with a punctured tire and were forced to walk the scooter to a "mechanic" for a quick repair.

The first morning of bandh, happened to coincide with the father of my host family's father's death anniversary. As is customary in Tamil culture, on this day every year, the favorite foods of the deceased are offered to his spirit in memory and honor during a pooja. I joined the extended family for the pooja, which was followed by a meal, again, very similar to a traditional Tamil meal after such an occasion, of sweet rice, vegetables, and pickle.

On December 22nd, I was relieved to wake up to news that the bandh was over, for now at least. It looks like I’ll still be able to make it to Kathmandu to spend the holidays with new friends after all.

*Source: UNICEF, ILO, Child Workers in Nepal Concerned Centre (CWIN-Nepal)

Initial Impressions of Living and Working in Gaindakot

Kathmandu was grand, but it was time to get to work and gain the momentum required to meet the several deliverables requested of me by VDRC. The three and a half hour drive from Kathmandu to Gaindakot, located in Nawalparasi district, is a windy, reckless one, but time passes rather quickly due to the breathtaking views of lush, green mountain ranges with vivid blue rivers flowing through them, alongside our route. At times, when the mountain peaks envelop travelers, towering high into the atmosphere, it’s impossible to not feel humbled by the magnificence of it all. In a country devoid of political stability and a functioning government, little has been done to prod the country’s development forward. Decades of scandal, violence, and conspiracy among the Maoists, monarchs, and members of parliament has stunted any progress, lending to nearly half the population living under the international poverty line of $1.25 per day. Natural wonders and the reminders they evoke of our insignificance in this universe comprise most of what Nepal has to offer its visitors.

I reached the VDRC office in Gaindakot to find that my accommodation and office space had not yet been arranged, despite the several months’ notice of my arrival. For nearly a week, I have been living in the local training center hostel and conducting most of my work from here with the only luxury of an internet cable that has traveled several meters to connect me to the rest of the world. It has certainly been an adjustment, though the re-acclimation to cold bucket showers and irregular electricity has been rather quick. I suppose I can owe that to the last few years of working in similar conditions elsewhere and to our annual visits to India and Sri Lanka throughout my childhood. Amma and Appa wanted us to always remain connected to our family, culture, and identity, despite having been born and raised in the States, in order to become more grounded individuals. I think in this type of work, a link to those roots has certainly proven to be advantageous.

Still, I can’t deny the frustrations and occasional anxiety that have haunted me this past week. The slow pace of work and lack of an immediate response to just about anything is something I’ve never been able to adjust well to. Things happen at a snail’s pace here, and the concept of timeliness, deadlines, and efficiency is nonexistent. In this environment, at least initially, one is forced to find that required push to keep moving forward from the little pleasures and small victories. I’ve learned the local load shedding schedule and am learning to arrange anything that requires electricity around it. I obtained an electric coil to heat my bucket of water before baths and have learned to set my alarm to get up in the mornings at least one hour before load shedding begins on a given day (because it varies day to day) in order to ensure that the coil has enough time to boil the water to a reasonable temperature. I now begin my day with a morning walk in the mist, among the plantain trees and children cycling or skipping to school, and observe the awakening of this little town. I learned this morning that I can shift to my longer term accommodations this evening. For the duration of my assignment, I will be occupying the second floor of a home just down the street from my office. Progress is good.

Over the next few months, I will be conducting an impact assessment of VDRC’s microfinance programs, primarily focusing my research on VYCCU Savings and Credit Cooperative and two other cooperatives promoted by VDRC in central Nepal. The study will specifically focus on client recipients of income generation loans and the performance of enterprises and other income generation activities that these loans have supported. A heavy part of the research will rely on the continuation of a series of interviews with a select group of clients that I started during my initial visit. While the study will place heavy emphasis on the economic impact of these loans, we’re hoping to also measure the social impact they have had on the target communities, particularly among women and disadvantaged groups.

Kingdoms of Kathmandu

Kathmandu Valley, I learned, is comprised of three significant cities. The first is its namesake, Kathmandu city, capital of the former kingdom, now Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal. To the east is Bhaktapur, also known as Bhadgaon, meaning the city of devotees and is home to Nepal’s medieval art and architecture. Finally, to the south, is Patan, also known as Lalitpur, the city of fine arts. Each of these three former kingdoms is centered around a durbar (palace) square, their structures peppering the valley with the stone mandapams of Hindu temples, golden spires of Buddhist stupas, and brick red rooftops, iced with ornate wood carvings, of ancient palaces.

In addition to its durbar square, Kathmandu city is also home to three major temples. Swayambhunath and Boudanath are two massive Buddhist stupas, each standing with four pairs of eyes facing the four cardinal directions, believed to be observing “righteous behavior” and “human prosperity.”














Pashupatinath is renowned to be one of the most sacred Hindu temples and is dedicated to Lord Shiva. I was surprised by the number of lingams, the oldest symbol in Hinduism, dotting the entire premises of the temple. I was equally surprised and, for some reason, dismayed to see that the adjacent Bagmati river’s banks served as cremation grounds. Five pyres burned concurrently, while the ashes of the dead were poured into the Bagmati’s flowing waters. Still, the grounds of the temple were absolutely mesmerizing. Rows and rows of smaller temples containing lingams sat in adjoining complexes winding up a long stairway that led to yet another set of temples filled with Ganeshas. These were guarded my large stone mice, Ganesha’s vahana or vehicle, symbolizing, according to one interpretation, wisdom, talent, and intelligence. Another interpretation is that the mouse symbolizes the complete opposite-ignorance and ego, and Ganesha, the lord of wisdom and the remover of obstacles, by riding atop the mouse, has tamed these vices and remained the master. I was so absorbed by a new awareness of clearly ancient and significant Hindu structures, that before I knew it, I had wound up far beyond the grounds of the main temple complex. As I attempted to find my way back, my sense of direction faltered, and I was forced to hand over my cell phone, indicating on its screen a single remaining bar of power, to a bystander to direct my taxi driver to my pick up location.











Patan durbar square is probably my favorite of the three and is also saturated with ancient palaces and temples. Surrounding the grounds are several stores to buy brass and copper Buddhist and Hindu deities, but as I searched for replicas of original pieces, I was disappointed to see that many of these merchants catered to the tastes of foreign tourists, who are more interested in primarily stereotypical religious icons. But, I also learned that if willing to pay a little more, I could get the desired pieces made to order. That will be something to think about over the next few months.

















Last, and certainly not least, I visited Bhaktapur, which seems to be the most popular of the three. It, too, contains a series of Hindu temples, overlooked by a palace of fifty-five windows, built by King Bupatindra Malla. Nepal’s Hindu temple structures are very foreign images to me in comparison to the elaborately carved stone temples of South India and Sri Lanka. The temples here mimic the pagoda style of east and southeast Asia, and in Bhaktapur, are built on terraces lined with stone-carved pairs of famous figures, elephants, lions, griffins, and goddesses. A few minutes’ walk from the square is the pottery market, where I saw mostly elder potters kneading and spinning wheels, giving life and shape to the red and black clay.



















Kathmandu is certainly a unique place full of a different kind of magic, but like many ancient places, is like an onion. The explorer is required to transcend each layer in order to get a proper taste of the rich symbolism and essence of the former kingdoms of Kathmandu.

A Little Taste of Heaven

One of the greatest treasures of Nepal is a once very well hidden secret deep within the Seti Gandaki Valley that some once claimed was the elusive Shangri-La. Pokhara Valley is an astounding natural beauty located in central Nepal, renowned as a heavenly retreat, laced by the Phewa Lake to the south and crowned by the Annapurna mountain range of the Himalayas to the north. After my initial visit to Gaindakot, I spent a few days having a little taste of this heaven.

Pokhara Valley has much to offer to the explorer. During my first full day there, I visited one of four Tibetan refugee camps. Nearly 300,000 refugees fled Tibet when it was annexed by China and have settled in camps that have become well-developed settlements. They have also found their niche in the tourism industry that generates most of Pokhara’s revenues and attract tourists to their carpet weaving centers and open markets for Tibetan goods. Other attractions that I visited are Devi’s or David’s Falls and the Mahendra and Gupteswor limestone caves.








The best view of the Annapurna range can be had from the mountainside village of Sarangkot, located 1600 meters above sea level. At 4:30 one morning, I hired a car to drive me through the dimly lit streets of Pokhara city up to this viewpoint. As I waited atop Sarangkot with a herd of other viewers, I was caught completely off guard by the freezing cold that I was entirely unprepared for. Several Sarangkot inhabitants had set up stalls just outside of their shanty homes to sell knitted gloves and scarves and wool blankets, but I refrained from making any more purchases that I would have had to haul back to Kabul in a few days’ time. But, more distracting than the temperature was the breathtaking view of the snow-capped Annapurna peaks, laying dormant, awaiting the first touch of the morning sun’s rays. In the middle of the range was its star, the Machapuchare peak, which means ‘fish tail’ in Nepali because of its twin peaks. As the sun made its way up into the horizon, I doubt there was a single witness around me whose senses were not aroused by this divine display.





From atop Sarangkot later that day, I took the plunge over Phewa Lake as the balloon of my paraglide kept me afloat. Though the view was striking, I regret to say that my vulnerability to motion sickness took its toll, forcing a slightly earlier landing than planned. By the evening, I decided to test this vulnerability again and hired a boatman to row me and a friend around Phewa Lake. During that hour, we visited the famous Bahari temple in the middle of the lake before observing the sun make its way down the other end of the Pokhara horizon.