United we stand; Divided we fall

"After all, there is one race-humanity", very well said by George Moore. But there are numerous kinds of discrimination and oppression still prevalent throughout the world in the name of caste, creed, gender, race and ethnicity. The developed nations are not also totally untouched by this fever. African and South -Asian countries witness such cases in galore. Nov 25 is marked as International Day for Violence against Women worldwide. Regarding our context, violence against women is at rise despite the cliche in Nepalese society-"Yatra naryastu pujyante, ramante tatra Devata" ( God dwells where women are worshipped). Women occupy more than fifty percent of Nepalese demographic statistics. Nepal itself faces various types of oppression and the victims are always the fairer sex. Generally, a woman is a mother who gives birth to you, up brings you nursing every time, a daughter that helps you in household chores, a wife that serves you from dawn to dusk to keep your home as a home then even accompanies you at the bed for your pleasure no matter how fagged she is because of none-to-lend-hands kind of duty of the whole day.
But the same women are always at risk in the hands of husband, relatives, passers-by, in-laws, even fiancé and father. And the cause for this might be our existing socio-economic condition and traditional way of perceiving things. A stranger fondles at her sensitive & privy parts in a crowded vehicle and gets threats if protested. She has to bear eve-teasing in the street, school and colleges, she gets raped to pay someone's vengeance to her kith and kin, has to live on white robe mourning for him forever if loses her husband whereas the husband remarries and leads a happy life no sooner she passes away. She is tortured and even burnt to death in the name of dowry, she is not allowed to touch anyone during menstrual period even in educated families: its more pathetic in western region of Nepal where she is kept at a secluded hut far from houses without proper sanitation . Domestic laborers are sexually harassed and even raped by their owners, innocent and uneducated girls are trafficked to neighboring countries including Gulf region as sex slaves.
The female waiters in most of the dance restaurants and bars are often reported to have been compelled for oral sex many a time. In most of the places the birth of male child brings boundless joy but female child a frown and disgust in parents' face. A male child gets good food and education whereas a girl child has to lend hands to her mother in the kitchen, look after her siblings and, allowed to go to public school without proper books and uniform. Female infanticide is also in existence after the availability of video x-ray system. Time has come that everyone had the respect and honor to the women and changed their way of taking them as an object of quenching sensual thirst and the creature of the second grade.
Some religions are also to blame. They compel women to be lead a lonely life in the name of Deuki, Jhuma and some mutilate their genitals in the name of norms and rituals. Domestic laborers are sexually harassed and even raped by their owners, innocent and uneducated girls are trafficked to neighboring countries including Gulf region as sex slaves. Let's join hands together to make needy folks aware of this basic fact instead of organizing pro-women seminars in star hotels in this years' International day for Violence against Women. "United we stand; divided we fall".

Atop Historic Dharahara

   Panoramic hills enlivened by recent downpour, crystal-clear and haze free atmosphere, blue sky shimmering in mild sunbeam, birds stretching their wings in dustless air, dwarfed multi-storey business buildings, people striding along the pavements like puppets, age-old temples and squares steadily waiting to be renovated, motor- vehicles rushing like toys in the thoroughfare and, to everyone’s chagrin, a dense concrete jungle spread all over the fertile land of Kathmandu valley--its a glimpse of a bird-eye view from atop historic Dharahara that I chanced to have in July last year.

   The scenario could have been depicted more beautifully had there been a poet instead of a simpleton like me.The ones craving to swallow the ecstatic landscape through naked eyes must get there in person. The proof of the pudding is indisputably in the eating.

It so happened that I was ambling down the downtown street along with Narayan, an effervescent student of mine who expressed the idea of climbing Dharahara up. I checked my pocket out and readily went along with him and was set for ticketing forthwith.

I wished I had a pair of binoculars but the guards apprised us of the ban on cameras, eatables and bags into the premises. Entering, for the first time ever, we stared Dharahara till we bowed back to catch it full-length. The newly embellished Dharahara looked so majestic that our eyes got enraptured.

   Feeling ourselves fortunate and honoured we stepped in to find a sturdy pillar ,a staircase spiralled upwards and outer wall erected attaching to the staircase to the top. The complete Dharahara at all.

Since the stairs were not wide enough to make a two -way passage there I saw definite chances of fondling. The ascending ones had to wait to let the descending visitors pass safely or vice versa.

   Though heighty, I managed to ascend it anyhow but ended up puffing and panting. We felt giddy to ascend the 213 stair spiral staircase, a fortiori, got really non compos mentis for a while as we reached the balcony. Frankly, I'd never been to such a giddy height before. It was really a novel experience for me.

   As we peeped through the balcony we were completely overwhelmed by a kind of euphoria. When gazed thoroughly there were not only breathtaking sights to delight you as Bhimsen Thapa might have had but one had to witness the pitiable bitter truth of Bhanubhakta's Alakapuri as well .Kathmandu had already undergone so many winters and falls that the then beautiful sketch, I saw , had now been immensely eroded. You could spot tall chimneys of the brick kilns throughout the suburbs, sacred Bagmati river absolutely turned into sewer, haphazardly mushroomed concrete houses engulfing archaeological temples and stupas, dried up and completely ignored Sundhara [the golden spout from which the place derives it’s name ] and so on and so forth.

It was the duty of Kathmandu metropolis to preserve and renovate such monuments of historical importance timely and keep the city clean green and healthy as it had made a slogan like this nearly a decade ago, but the reality was and is otherwise. Despite these bitter facts I felt myself privileged to feel, step in, tread on and carve the historic monument in my subconscious.