Friday, April 30, 2010

Itahari bazaarai ma...

Oh timro hamro maya basyo
Itahari bazaarai ma...

I passed out while writing the previous post, two nights ago. Much has happened since--mostly, the filling of a vast and empty vessel--my ignorance about this area. I can't get into the specifics, for lack of time, what what, but, here are a few points:

There is a real and intense friction between groups, ethnic and political, of which the poorest are the perpetual victims;

There is a really good chance that the best beef/veal to be got for good money in Kolkata actually comes from the Koshi Tappu Wildlife Reserve.

I am not kidding. One half of my mind thought: WTF? How can that be allowed?
The other half thought: sweeet... grass-fed, wild beeves, fit for the gods...

There is no real consensus among responsible scientists about how many species of birds there are in Nepal, of how many of each. Those who flaunt numbers around are usually not scientifically trained, and don't have any stake in serious scholarship.

The Warden is the King.

The King has courtiers. Some of these courtiers keep herds of cattle inside the reserve, thus depleting grass and grazing/roaming area. This forces wildlife towards artificially created and managed grasslands where improved varieties are available: farms, with wheat and rice. This leads to a direct confrontation between the small farmer and the smaller animal: Arna, deers, boars. This leads to the punitive trapping of wild animals.

In one method, farmers put small hooks in the ears of corns: wheat, for instance. Fishing hooks, with barbs. Cheap, but efficient. Deer strays away from the reserve, discovers rewarding pastures in a wheat field, nibbles on some fresh wheat grass and corn, bites into a barb. Deer panics, moves the barb around in its tongue, throat--but the barb doesn't give. It digs in deeper, or moves further down he digestive tract. Deer is in pain. Barb creates an infection, or deer bleeds internally to death, slowly, slowly. Undeserved.

Why fishing hooks? Because they are the cheapest. One costs no more than a couple of rupees.

Another method: odorless, tasteless poison. Undetectable to the animals.

There are tons of birds here: Koshi Tappu is renowned the world over as a bird sanctuary. It is a protected wetland. Therefore, some birds here eat fish: commarants, storks, kingfishers, whatnot. There are also quite a few indigenous and other type of people who are dependent entirely upon the wetlands and their produce of fish, ferns and snails for survival.

Protected birds from all over the word come and eat the fish in the rivers. They also eat the fish that people grow in their ponds.

What do the fishermen do to scare off the exotic fowls? Reportedly, [what an ugly word this is... I am sure this is my first use of the word, ever], they play Kantipur FM, really loud, right through the night.
India--more specifically, Bihar Government--is the villain.

Nepal allowed India a 199 year lease to manage Koshi from the point where it enters the Terai through a narrow breach in the Chure range. Because of that, much madnes has followed. The one point I understand now runs thus:

Koshi silts up too much, too fast. It silt up with sand so fine it would be the envy of tropical islands, but is of no commercial use whatsoever [unless you wanted to make glass]. There are 56 gates on Koshi Barrage, of which only 4 are open at any time, meaning there is an effort to dam-up and slow-down the flow of water. This resistance/shring up of the water's kinetic energy assists in silting of sand. This means India leaves the fine sand behind, but takes the water to feed its canals. When water level rises, more sand is brought--not red clay, but white sand. This forces the water to cut under the already sandy banks, so that Koshi breaks out of its path and
displaces thousands with every flood.

So, India is the villain--especially because, under the 199 year lease, India is responsible for the maintainance of the banks, the spurs and all other engineering structures responsible for keeping Koshi in check.

I have been told that the three terribly woesome rivers of Nepal are that way because India dammed them to better control them. Indians think of the rivers as engineering problems, which is a bit dumb. "There is no telling what will happen with wind, water, or fire," said one man. Sounds too folksy to take seriously, but no amount of science can compensate for the complexity of these phenomena: how do you fully account for all variables around these elements? The folksy statement is clearly more scientifically cautious than the "everything is an engineering problem" attitude of the Indian state.

More later, dudes.

Spur number 2688.
Laxmi Kali Hatti, 3 months

hehehe

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I am in Hotel Tirupati in Itahari, where I can get scant wi-fi signal in the room. All equipment/amenities that require power are dead, except for the rickety fan above me. There is a fridge, but it is woefully empty save a bottle of water, about which I have been cautioned by restaurant staff downstairs: the bottle in the fridge costs Rs 40, whereas a bottle of water is Rs 25 at the restaurant.

There is a chaudhavin ka chaand in the sky. New leaves are growing in the trees n the mountains around Dharan, while gulmohor trees sughtones, and tried hidig them in the folds of a mattress, because I thtand in a fiery blaze all around the city. I was knocked senseless by shock when I realized that the colors on the trees reminded me of--what?--the pouch of Tang we'd been given by a man ho lived in a room in our house. his was at least 20 years ago. There had been an enormous hailstorm that afternoon. I have never since seen hailstones that size. I had collected many a handful of the icy stones, mostly because I had reasoned to myself that I could keep the ice longer if I could keep in the folds of a couple of mattresses.

I am very tired, all of a sudden...

Off to Koshi

It is going to be veerryy interesting to see how we fare in the Terai, so close to the Maoist "indefinite" strike. But, nevertheless, NTGK, Bhushan Shilpakar and Prawin Adhikari are headed Biratnagar way, most likely to stay in Inaruwa/Itahari, sweltering in the sun, no doubt, and come back with at least 8/10 interviews for the Planet Nepal project...

Koshi Tappu, the river Koshi, the heat and glare... mosquitoes, waterborne diseases, riding motorbikes through the day... not really looking forward to any of it...

Back on Friday, except, unless, if, but, you know, who knows, after all, the indefinite strike, so, whatever...

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Jivan Mrityu

DVDs of Jivan Mrityu are out. Subtitled in English.

Imja: A Photograph


Chhori and Dad.

Frozen blankness: Imja lake.

Mountain behind: Island Peak.

Photo by: NayanTara Gurung Kakshapati

Monday, April 19, 2010

Kathmandu

NT and Chhori are stuck in Lukla, but I am back in Kathmandu.

Day 1: KTM-Lukla-Monjo
Day 2: Monjo-Namche
Day 3: Namche-Thamo-Thame
Day 4: Thame
Day 5: Thame-Syangboche-Khumjung
Day 6: Khumjung-Tyangboche
Day 7: Tyangpoche-Pangboche
Day 8: Pangboche
Day 9: Pangboche-Shomare-Dingboche
Day 10: Dingboche-Chhukung
Day 11: Chhukung-Imja Tso-Dingboche-Pangboche
Day 12: Pangboche-Tyangboche-Namche
Day 13: Namche-Phakding
Day 14: Phakding-Lukla
Day 15: Lukla-Ktm

Highest point: Imja Tso, at 5,010 above sea level, which probably means we got to about 5,020 meters above sea level.

Lowest: Possibly Ghat or Phakding, at around 2,600 meters above sea level.

Number of showers taken: 2 [Day 6: Tyangboche, Rs 250 for an inadequate bucket of lukewarm water, Day 15: Phakding, long, rewarding hot shower costing no additional rupiyah]

Number of times the bowels were evacuated: 5: Monjo, Tyangboche, Pangboche, Pangboche, Phakding.

Most difficult climb: Up to Namche, since it was the second day of the trek. Climb up to Tyangboche wasn't as difficult as it was made out to be. Climb to Syangboche, after four hours of walking from Thame, in the high heat of noon, nearly martyred the party.

After crossing 4,500 meters, the air got perceptibly thinner. Breathing became difficult, but there were no other effects of altitude. Walking up to the lake was hard, but I knew it was going to be hard, what with lungs the pair like mine, so I sucked air with every step, and had fun.

The lake was frozen white. The glacier was almost a kilometer to the east. It snowed lightly on day 8, and fairly thickish on Day 9.

Almost thirty interviews--patience started to thin around the 12th interview. On day 11, NTGK and I were locked in a room by three angry community leaders. They asked me on whose authority I had come to do this "research." I leaned forward, said: "pheri bhannus ta?" My instantaneous rendition of "come again?"

Then I said--"Ma ta yeuta swatantra nagarik ko haisiyat ma, aafnai authority ma aayeko." I am here as a free citizen, on my own damned authority.

Most shattering words listened to, in Jagjit Singh's voice:

"Ghalib-e-khasta ke bagair kaun sa kaam band hai?
Roiye jaar-jaar kya, kijiye hai-hai kyun?"

Tastiest dal-bhat: at Thamo
Prettiest vale: just before reaching Thamo. Dyamn. Laligurans, danfe, little kids. Water-driven maney. Dyamn.
Yak steak: 1. Tough, Sinewy. Smelled of piss: hormones, age.
Momos eaten: 2 plates. Milinge and Lukla. Buffalos are slaughtered 2 days south of Lukla; men carry entire thighs, weighing up to 30 kilos each, on their shoulders, and take them north, sometimes all the way to EBC, taking three, four days to carry the load, in the noon sun. Surprisingly, the meat is better than you'd find in momos in Kathmandu. Go figure.

Bengalis with monkey-caps and raincoat to shield from the wind: perhaps half-dozen. Why?

Most pleasant walk: the road built by Pasang Sherpa, from Khumjung to Namche, the most beautiful and frightening ravines, valleys that plunge to the netherworlds, rise above misty ridges.

Age, as guessed by various people: 35, 45, possibly 50

Twice, people asked Saprina--AKA chhori--was my daughter. At Lukla, a lady asked if I was with Saprina [budha-budhi]. I pulled a solemn face and said: "No, she is my daughter [chhori]." The lady started to stammer and apologize. Sherpa people. They made me feel so much older.

more as I settle down.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Dingboche

Tonight at Dingboche, tomorrow hike to Imja, return to Chhukung. Day after at Tyengboche. Then to Namche. Then Lukla. Tomorrow the toughest walk, followed by the walk from Namche to Lukla, although most of it is downhill.

Altitude today: 4,400 meters from sea level. Mid day tomorrow: 5,010! Woo hoo! Apetite is strong, piss is regular, dreams are syrupy. Man is dandy.

Walking uphill reminds me that the landscape is slowly sculpting my body: my buttocks already feel more taut. Some will be happy to hear that, no doubt.

It snowed this morning! Hell yeah! Hope to have a snowed-out New Year.

Happy New Year to you all!

Friday, April 9, 2010

Khumjung

Maden--no photos, because I have no camera with me, and NTGK is taking all the pictures. But, once internet isn't as expensive, I'll post some pictures. There will be a set of before-after pictures, but my hope of losing weight now seems foolish. I have a grand appetite, and walk like a well-fed sloth, so I am afraid I might return with a bigger belly, not a smaller one.

After Namche, we walked to Thame--a very beautiful walk along Bhotekoshi, with a couple of valleys so achingly beautiful it makes you want to start potato farming and raising yaks. Laligurans is in full bloom here, entire trees--not shrubs as in the mid-hills, but large trees-are resplendent in pink and white. There is a small metal bridge over Bhotekoshi just before reaching Thame--the rocks are sculpted into graceful curves and crannies.

We stayed at Appa Sherpa's tea-house, met the man himself, interviewed him. At one point, he poured hot water into my water bottle. Yeah. That happened.

Went up to the monastery in Thame, where who should we end up talking to but Appa Sherpa's Thawa brother Nawang Rapta... the monastery is building a six-room hotel to supplement its meager income. NTGK took a portrait of Nawang Rapta under the skylights in the still-under-construction space, and it is my favorite so far.

From Thame we walked back towards Namche, climbed up to the ridiculously small village of Syangboche, stopped for a talk, three cups of tea and one and half rings of canned pineapple-in-syrup at Nepal's only Yak Breeding Center, which--hold your breath--some politician apparently wants to convert into a high-altitude golf course.

If anyone knows that politician, please punch him on the nose on my behalf. If you look at the complete picture, domestic Yak is poised to become an extinct species. Of course, there is no such thing as a wild species of Yak.

Today at Khumjung, a most picturesque village all of green roofs [except the monastery--which has red roofs and ancient pines guarding it], and where the famous Hillary School is located. Tomorrow to Tyangboche.

Here, internet is Rs 15/min.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Namche!

From Lukla, we walked to Monju, a pleasant walk along Dudhkoshi. This morning, started from Monjo around 8 AM, was in Namche at 11 AM. It was difficult for about an hour, but that was it. I looked at my feet, remembered that one foot usually goes ahead of the other, and repeated the process. At the hotel in Namche--Camp de Base--my face was streaked with white lines of dry salt and sweat. One spotty old banana was Rs 40, but never more welcome.

Internet is too expensive for me to be expansive :)

Friday, April 2, 2010


"Octavio Paz, the Nobel Prize-winning Mexican writer, begins his essay “Translation: Literature and Letters” with the sentence: “When we learn to speak, we are learning to translate.” He states that children translate the unknown into a language that slowly becomes familiar to them, and that all of us are continually engaged in the translation of thoughts into language. Then he develops an even more suggestive notion: no written or spoken text is “original” at all, since language, what ever else it may be, is a translation of the nonverbal world, and each linguistic sign and phrase translates another sign and phrase. And this means, in an absolutely utopian sense, that the most human of phenomena—the acquisition and use of language—is, according to Paz, actually an ongoing, endless process of translation; and by extension, the most creative use of language—that is, literature is also a process of translation: not the transmutation of the text into another language but the transformation and concretization of the content of the writer’s imagination into a literary artifact. As many observers, including John Felstiner and Yves Bonnefoy, have suggested, the translator who struggles to re-create a writer’s words in the words of a foreign language in fact continues the original struggle of the writer to transpose nonverbal realities into language. In short, as they move from the workings of the imagination to the written word, authors engage in a process that is parallel to what translators do as we move from one language to another."

Wonderful stuff.

All I have to say to this is: "Sure. But only if the original is worth its salt."

Thursday, April 1, 2010

How smart people kill time



Chau Dang likes to post links to this website, but I had never before bothered to follow the links and read the comic strips there. I did today, addicted, although I have much, much better stuff to do. I mean urgent work that can't wait.

Procrastination? I wouldn't call it that!

use commands like "prev" or "next" to navigate ... or go with "random" ... but make sure to hover your mouse pointer above the panels for the little extra bit of reward...

What I will be busy with next...

Planet Nepal