The Waves

Born and raised in a land-locked country, the first time I experienced waves was when I touched the sea in a foreign land at the age of 30. It was an extraordinary moment. Since then, I have seen many waves, and every time it has fascinated me, until 2020. COVID waves.

We all have COVID stories, and if we survive old, there will be few stories to tell our grandchildren. Just like my granny, who never gets tired of telling her 1934 earthquake story. She had just entered her teens when this 8.3 earthquake occurred. Her dad was a civil servant who was posted near the epicenter in the lowlands of Nepal/Bihar. Granny was living with her family and saw the waves, the earthquake waves. Liquefactions is the technical word. She tells how the earth spread and underground water appeared on the surface. Granny survived not just one but two major earthquakes and is still sharing these extraordinary stories during the pandemic. She turned 100 years old last year but refused to celebrate her centurion birthday because of the pandemic.

Granny was happy when she received her 1st vaccine dose and now waiting for the 2nd one. Every day she wakes up early, offers her prayers, sings few devotional songs, offers grain to her birds. During the day, granny never forgets to sleep. Often, she tries to please me by telling me how many times she has walked around our garden. She is resilient. She must survive the 2nd wave.

When COVID is hitting us with waves after waves, I wonder how we will protect ourselves. No one is protected unless everyone is protected. Vaccine scepticisms would not help here. The difference between 2020 and 2021 is that we did not have any medication against COVID, but now there are many vaccines to protect us. “Of course, there are new variants, but if we play safe with masks, sanitization, social distancing, and vaccines will save us.” This is what my granny tells me to tell my friends. “Otherwise, you will be swiped by the waves just like your relative uncle, who died in the first wave simply because he ignored all the rules,” Granny adds.

The tide is full, its full moon night,
Imminent waves, you hold me tight,
Across the ocean, were the gleaming lights,
Together we might reach if you hold me tight.

Wish you all safe. Stay shielded, stay hopeful, always………..
Ravindra Shakya, 20 April 2021

Ye Waqt Bhi Gujar Jayega

Dr. A, Dr PM and COVID-19

Since last 4 years a young lady doctor is living in my compound.  Apart of being a doctor, she is also blessed with multi-faceted personality.  Her distinguishing charters include poetry writing, painting, and listening music.  Most recently, I realized her new talent – story telling.  But the most important personality that I admire is her humane heart.  Living in the same compound, I had chance to learn some important things from her.  Although I am of her father’s age, we never felt any generational gap when we talk things.  Recently, after a long gap, we had a chance to share few things.  As always, we tried to inspire each other but this time her story scored much higher than mine.  But before I share the story, let me set some background.  Let me name her Dr. A, and in fact her name starts with A, anyway. 

Dr. A with her nearly finished painting

Dr. A comes from a modest family, the first out of three siblings, and a daughter of a retired army, who is now working in Middle-East.  Being the eldest sibling, I have seen her taking the role of guardianship for her younger brother and sister.  Until recently, before the pandemic started, all sibling stayed together in my compound.  As her dad served the Nepal Army, she got ‘privilege kid status’ to complete her medical studies.  Walking on her dad’s footstep, she always expresses her obligation to serve the nation and people.  Social service as the main motto of her profession, she has been dedicating all her present time serving patients in this pandemic times.    

Since last few years, Dr. A is working in a hospital run by Armed Police Force.  After pandemic this hospital has been converted into a Covid Hospital and Dr. A has been working in the front-line.  Since the hike in the corona cases, she has been taking different roles in her hospital – at emergencies, ICU, OPD, counseling and many more.  Recently she has been very busy with the overflow of infected people and had been in quarantine herself.  She told me that the most difficult part of her recent duty is to counsel sick people and their relatives.  I know she will do very well in counseling but she told me that she herself might need some counseling now.   

Living with corona is a neo-normal for all of us, but it is not an easy thing.  We all have our own tensions, our own stories.  The overall ‘Global Tension Index’ has been raised to all times high.  But I guess for the doctor, who deals with the corona infected patient, the tensions will be naturally very high.  Needing to share and vent out her tension, she came to talk with me to express her feelings.  Although she came to me to seek some motivation, she ended up inspiring me with her story.  This is how she inspires herself and the story goes like this.

We all know the stories of Akbar and Birbal from India.  Sadly, at present India-Nepal relationship is all time low.  This bad relationship is mostly at the governments’ level however our people level relationship can never vein.  We, living in pandemic times, damn care where ancient Ayodhya is really situated.  Nepal PM claims real Ayodhya is somewhere near Parsa but my friend based in Sunsari satires that it might also be in Koshi Tappu because there, in fact, lies an island called “Sri Lanka” in the middle of Koshi River.  Jokes can’t run the country.  But for now, let’s get some inspiration from Akbar and Birbal.

Akbar, the great king, was always worried about his people’s well-being.  In addition to his extra-ordinary leadership skills, he also had a good team including his confidante Mr. Birbal.  People of all sorts used to come to his palace for help.  They usually come with problems.  Dealing with all these problems, Akbar felt he himself needed some stimulus.  So one day, he called upon PM Birbal and ordered him to come with one line slogan or a strip line which will motivate the victims or sufferers.  Akbar demanded that at the same time the same slogan also will have to bring down egoists, or rich elites down to their real size.  Akbar wanted to put this slogan at the entrance of his palace where all people could see and read it.  Poor Birbal was given a strict deadline to come with this solution. 

The next day Akbar read the slogan in his palace wall, which not only inspired him but also inspired me and will inspire all of us who are going through pandemic times.  The line goes like this:  “This Phase Shall Also Pass One Day”.  Good times or Bad… it will vanish one day.   Better expressed in Hindi “Ye Waqt Bhi Gujar Jayega” (ये वक्त भी गुजर जाएगा) _{(please mind my Hindi)}.  This is so true for our times, our present context, when the whole humanity is going through Covid effects. But this shall also pass one day.

I wish to express my heartfelt respect to my young friend who changed my mood since yesterday.  My respect rose even higher when I learnt that doctors were promised by the Government to provide extra allowance for serving the Covid patients.  Promised, but not yet fulfilled!  In many cases, even the doctors salaries are not paid on time.  Nevertheless, Dr. A’s motivation has never waned but she keeps on motivating people like me through her every day works.  So my sincere salute to my unsung heroine. 

So, my derived conclusion from this story:  ‘Corona Virus… will also become history one day’.  But for our oversized, ego-centric Prime Minister – I have a message: ‘You will also have to come down in the real size one day’.  I hope our PM realizes soon that his recent kidney replacement is medical science contribution.  Don’t slam the skillful Nepali doctors; you might have to knock the same operation door in the future.  And yes, people can’t be fooled with the jokes all the time.  Dear PM, your “turmeric formula” or your recipe of “sneezing out the virus”, or your advice of “inhaling the cool Himalayan air to increase virus immunity” are all outdated jokes.   Don’t just fool that we Nepalese have natural immunity to fight the virus.  Look at the current figure, our corona death rate is highest in South Asia.  This is because of our poor health support system for which you are ultimately responsible.  

Let’s discard these cheap jokes and start believing in our scientists and support our health workers like Dr. A.    

Dr. A and her team in their duty serving Covid-19 patients

Grandpa’s 3 Stories

1. Contents:
   1. Eat Less; Talk More
   2. Never Overdo Sweet Things
   3. Grand Son is More Precious than Property

Prelude: The best memories I had of my grandfather was the period when he was suffering through his back pain.  I used to massage him with a special ointment called “sloan’s balm”.  He wanted to believe that this balm is making some positive effects but in a reality it was just effective only for few hours.  This massaging routine went on for few years, until he died with other natural causes.  But the time that I spent with him in each massage sessions has been the most valuable moments in my life.  Each massage lasted about an hour and I was paid my wages with his stories.  These were his own life stories from his childhood poverty to his adventures in Lhasa and his return to Nepal as my grandpa. 

Before I will share these stories here, I wish to tell you the background of my special relationship and bonding with my grandpa.  When I say grandpa, he is my maternal grandpa, I mean my grandpa is my mother’s father.  When I was born my mother was merely eighteen.  My father has some problems with his own father and his step mother.  My maternal grandparents hence decided to ‘adopt’ and raise me when I was very young.  My mother was their sole child so I became their own ‘son’.   I was told to call them my “ba” and “maa” while my own biological parents were nicknamed ‘grandpa’ and “grandma”.  Little complicated, but this was how I called them until I entered my teenage. 

Story One:  Eat less, Talk more

Grandpa’s childhood was full of misery because he was the eldest son of a very poor family.  Getting two meals a day was a real struggle.  Grandpa came from an artisan family and in those days they were among the least paid professionals.  However grandpa’s relatives were mostly from the business background so they were quite well off people.  Among many stories of his childhood, this story is still so profoundly memorable for me.

One day a rich relative organized a big feast.  Grandpa’s family was invited as the helpers for cooking.  As the rule the helpers were only allowed to eat at the end when all the guests have gone.  Because the dishes were cooked so deliciously, all the items were eaten and there were nothing left.  Instead of allowing to cook extra food for the helpers, the rich organizer paid some meager wages to my grandpa’s family and asked them to leave hungry.  Before leaving for home, my grandpa was asked to clean some dishes.  Working hungry, he was so tempted to eat the waste food but his dignity did not allow it.  The whole family went home with empty stomach from the feast house.

Grandpa’s point was that, if those feast guests won’t have been so greedy in filling their plates and thrown away lots of food, he would not have gone hungry.  In each story, grandpa used to draw some conclusions.  In this story, his message was that, when you go for a party, never try to full your plate.  “In parties: be very selective in taking food, but be open in chatting anything”.  Over eating may have adverse effect on next day, but over chatting in the parties merely have any meaning the next day.  “So in parties: eat less, talk more”, grandpa use to say.

The Roads of Tibet are not paved by Gold:

Grandpa spent all his youth hood in Tibet.  He spend over 20 years in Tibet.  Between these times, he came back to his home country for only 2 times.  For first time, he came to marry my grandma.  And for second time, he came back right after the big earthquake of B.S. 1990 to support his relatives.  He would trek many weeks to come to Nepal.  These were the times when he still struggling.  He worked in Tibet and traveled between Calcutta and Lhasa a “Banjaa” which means “a company agent” for the big businesses.  Both times when he came back to Nepal, he had to spend all his earnings, for marriage ceremony and to help his relatives who were earthquake victims.  In both occasions, he spent all his earning as if he was a successful businessman but in reality he was earning too little in Tibet.  This might be just how our present day migrant workers spend money when they return to Nepal on holidays.   Spend big cash to throw big feasts/parties, to show off their relatives that I am doing great abroad.  It becomes a matter of prestige.  Grandpa also did the same mistake. 

He only became ‘third time lucky’ because upon his return to Lhasa in his third attempt he developed a very close friendship with his business owner’s son.  The young lad was much younger than grandpa but he was a big fond of my grandpa.  He liked grandpa’s loyalty, integrity and diligence.  At latter stage he lent grandpa to run his own business.  They became lifelong friends.  Later, Grandpa had his own “kothi” meaning a business until China invaded Tibet.  He fled Lhasa perhaps around 1951 long before Dalai Lama exiled to Dharamshala in 1959.  But the next story I am going to share is the one when Grandpa was still a struggler in Tibet. 

Story two:  Never overdo sweet things

Grandpa spent most of his teenage years in scarcity.  He had a special fond with sweet foods but could not afford because of his poverty.  In his early days in Tibet, he earned barely enough for himself to feed hence sweet delicacies were still a dream.  One day, his peers organized an outing.  Despite making monetary contribution for this outing, grandpa decided to stay home and decided to eat wishful amount of sweets.  He acted unwell, stomachache.  When all his friends were out, he bought a good amount of sweets and feast himself.  The next day, he actually became ill with “sweet poisoning” and was unable to go for his works.  His friends came to see him but one of them caught grandpa with the real reason of being sick.  He found the long queue of ants carrying sweet from where grandpa hid his leftover sweets.  “So this is the real reason why you stayed behind from our picnic and now you are suffering the stomachache”.  He satire my grandpa and caught up his mischief. 

Grandpa used to tell, never overdo things, even if it is a sweet thing.  Sweet become sour when it is too much.  Another moral story from grandpa’s life.

Story three:  Grandson is more previous than property

When Grandpa returned Nepal, he came back with enough wealth.  Upon return, he decided to invest some of his money to buy a new house where we now call “New Road”.  In fact, the New Road is the oldest paved road in Kathmandu and he knew its future prospects.  When he traveled to Calcutta (now Kolkata) he realized the viabilities of centrally located house in business town.  So he made some advance payment for this house and went back home to inform his father (my great grandpa).  Instead of supporting grandpa’s property purchase plan, his father protested him and told his relatives that his son is going to throw him away from his home community.  Grandpa has to knell down in front of his father’s wish and hence abandoned his New Road plan by sacrificing his advance payment.  On one occasion he showed that house to me and told me that his whole fate would have been changed if he would have purchased this property.  But no regrets, he told me.  If I would have purchased this house, I would be much richer, might become too busier.  Your mom might have got married with a rich husband not your father, and you might never be born.  I am happy that you are born in our family because I didn’t have that house. 

Stay around with Good Friends

Grandpa was wise, witty, and wishful thinker.  Grandpa died some 43 years back but I still remember him so fondly.  There are many such stories which he shared with me.  These are the stories which shaped my entire life.  Grandpa was not only my story teller, but also my first teacher, and my first best friend.  Grandpa used to emphasize on two simple things:  a) good acquaintance and b) get engaged (don’t stay idle but work).  And I have listened and practiced this message all my life.  I know now there is no way I could communicate with him.  But strangely, he occasionally comes in my dream and still share his stories in a different way.  Times have since changed but memories of my grandpa had never faded away.  It would remain with me until I will die.  But I wish I can be the same grandpa for my future grandchildren.  But the future, who knows future?

Daddy’s influence: My life’s second episode

This was the story of my grandpa.  At some time in the future I wish to share my Dad’s legends.  Why he renounced his all his parental properties and never regretted this decision?  Why Dad is another biggest influence in my life?  Nicknamed “Guru” by the whole community, how he guided me after my grandpa’s death?  Stay tuned, to read more. 

Pigeons, Sparrows and My Grandma

Pigeons, Sparrows and my Grandma

Pigeons were waiting before Grandma reached her veranda to offer them rice.  Today she is little late, and when she gets late she always apologize them.  Every morning she talks with them as if they are her close friends.  Even when she touches them, they seldom get threatened.

Officially Grandma is nearing 99 and I have lived with her over half century excepting few years when I lived abroad or outside Kathmandu.  But I have been witnessing this ritual of offering since I could remember.

On one occasion, Grandma told me that there are very few sparrows joining her offerings.  May be they are not happy with this old woman, she told me.   Then I asked our “Google Uncle” about the truth behind few sparrows.  Uncle confirms – it is true that there are much fewer sparrows now compared to our good old days.  So much so, Wikipedia says:

In Great Britain, populations peaked in the early 1970s,^[207] but have since declined by 68% overall,^[208] and about 90% in some regions.^[209][210] The RSPB lists the house sparrow’s UK conservation status as red.^[211] In London, the house sparrow almost disappeared from the central city.^[209] The numbers of house sparrows in the Netherlands have dropped in half since the 1980s,^[95] so the house sparrow is even considered an endangered species.

Researchers say that house sparrows are directly linked with our environmental degradation around our habitat.  Grandma is too old, so she might not see sparrows returning in her daily offerings.  But when I get old and takeover grandma’s ritual, would I see any sparrows?  Will my children even see any pigeons when they get old??

“Corona is directly linked with nature” she has been insisting since the beginning of our lockdown.  But when I shared my research on to Grandma today, she was little angry.  She told me what will happen if human failed to fight Corona.  If the virus eventually wins and we lose? Well this is one of the possibility as well but I differ to lose this battle.  But if this really happen…   I have no answers.  But I guess my appropriate answer would be, the next film of “Planet of Ape 3.0” will not be made my humans but by the Apes themselves.

Honor thy elders, Love thy nature, and love our environment…..

From my Lockdown Diaries, Day 51!

Christine Stone

Christine Stone

The Big Earthquake

The great earthquake of April 2015 was felt in 6 countries.  It shook the entire sub-continent.  9000+ people died and injured 22,000 people by the first shake.  Everybody were shaken.  But can you believe that there are some people who never felt this earthquake, even though they were not so far from the epi-centre?  But yes, I know at least 2 ladies!   One is my neighbor’s tenant who happen to be rinsing off her shampoo on that fateful Saturday.  She thought that the shampoo was just stuck too much in her eyes so she could not stand properly.   Another lady is the great late Christine Stone, who happened to be busy arranging books in her School’s attic.  She could not figure out why the books that she was trying to put in the shelves is just falling out!  When she came out from the attic to the school ground and saw students facing down she simply thought that they are practicing a drill.   It took some good time to convince her that this is not a drill but a big earthquake is still shaking.  That’s how Christine Didi was!  When she would work she knows nothing except the work.  Christine Didi was alcoholic by works.

Final Assignments in Nepal:

Few days after the earthquake I called her to join my young people’s team in Restless Development to establish some ‘child friend spaces’ and train our volunteers to serve some hard hit parts of Kathmandu.   As usual, she took out her small blue diary and told me that she will make it!  There we go.  She worked with us to train our volunteers, staff, and played with the small children in the CFS camps when their parents were busy collecting their rations, and fixing their temporary shelters.  She worked with us in the schools until her last week in Nepal and went for the retirement to Scotland.  During this last assignment she trained hundreds of volunteers and teachers in fun learning techniques to heal the nervous children.  Restless Development eventually established 511 Temporary Learning Centres (TLCs) which became the highest number of any organization did at that time.  And we did it because we had Christine Didi as our patron.

My Flash back

My memories of Didi goes back to 1988 when I first entered the United Mission to Nepal as a young staff.  She was then working in Gandaki Boarding School but used to travel frequently in the remote districts.  I was the Section Leader for Central Services Department (CSD) and my department was responsible to arrange her logistics.  In those days, purchasing the air tickets to Jumla was a very difficult.  The ‘Twin Otters’ were only flown by the ‘National Flag Carrier’ and my colleague Sher Bahadur used to stand in a queue before dawn to reserve the ticket.  We never missed to book her ticket and Sher Bahadur used to get piece of chocolate every time Christine Didi collected her ticket.  She would not speak much, but ‘Dhanyabad Bhai’ was her favourite words.  One day, she took me to my boss and praised my Section.  I like this young man, that’s all she said about me.  I liked this compliment too.  So it begin, our mutual admiration.

Oldest and longest serving volunteer 

In 1999, I joined Restless Development as the Country Director.  This was the first time I was leading the entire organization on my own.  I knew I need some good people around me to run the organization.  Anil Dai, Saha Dev Sir, Gael Didi, Rajendra jee, and of course Christine Didi all became my Advisors and my Guides.  Christine Didi trained almost every batch of our international and national volunteers since 1999 till 2015.  She trained hundreds of young people, and travelled thousands in miles during this period.  She usually travelled alone in the night/day buses.  She never took a single penny as a trainer.  She could have easily charged USD 500/day if she had offered her consultancies to UN Agencies.  In terms of monetary value, it would be millions of rupees she contributed to my office.   So in my farewell speech, I called her as ‘our oldest and longest serving volunteer’.  There are not such examples in our Restless Global Family which come near to such dedication, except our founding Chair Jim Cogan, OBE.

Yes, OBE!  Very few people know that Christine Did was also decorated by OBE Award, by the British Queen.  Because I knew and one day, I asked Didi why don’t she add this title after her name?  ‘Oh now you know that, but I don’t want everybody should know it.  It takes long time to explain what is O.B.E’.  Her humbleness was so obvious.

Educationist Extraordinaire

Whatever we may say about Christine Didi, at the end it relates with education.  Her multifaceted talents in education specialized in training the trainers, teaching the teachers, writing textbooks, children’s books.  “Tommy Tempo” was my favourite character which she invented in her children’s book.  She was the first person to write a course book for civic education in Nepal.  She taught in many places, including Gandaki Boarding School, Gorkha, Okhaldhunga, Jumla, and also in Kathmandu International Study Centre.

Simple living, simple thinking

She learnt the art of “living with minimal”.  A well serviced bicycle, pair of good walking shoes, jacket, raincoat, rucksack, diary, and T-shirts.  She loved T-shirts and became our Restless Brand Ambassador for free.  She lived a modest life, stayed in a cozy flat, wore climate friendly clothes and ate moderately.  “Since cooking was invented human ate much more than what is required.”  She told me one day when we were in a field trip.  It was also always easy to host dinner or lunch for her.  Daal and Nepali Chiya were her favourite drinks.

I never remember her talking big things. Simple living, simple thinking was her way of life.  In Restless Development, we are used to talk big things.  Big Idea, Big Conversation, Big Ambitions, SDGs, MDGs were the things we discussed in our board meetings.  As our Board Chair she never stopped us talking big things however she always reminded us to be down to earth.  One day, in the middle of our strategic discussions she asked me “who is going to translate SDG into Nepali, government, UN or you bhai??”  We laughed for long time!  But isn’t this so true?  How many people in Nepal understands SDG?  Christine didi, was down to earth, want to make things as simple as possible!

My Board Chair

Christine Didi served as our Chairperson of Restless’ National Board for nearly 15 years.  During these years I made all sort of odd requests.  She became the English Teacher for Ministry of Youth and Sports for many years.   She accompanied me in many cold meetings with the ‘potential’ donors.  She was even featured dancing with the teenage students in our dance4life programme.  At that time she was already in her 70s.

But most importantly she was my Advisor, my Guide, my Inspiration.  My secular views and her devout Christian faith never clashed.  Compassion and respect always prevailed between us.  There are many things that we can learn from Christian Missionaries.  Devotion to work, is something I learnt earlier from them.

Why she loved Strikes?

We Nepalese love strikes.  And Christine didi loved it too.  Not because she don’t need to work on the strike day, but because it becomes much easier for Didi to ride her bicycle.  She was even featured in a national newspaper riding her cycle with her dog on the strike day.  I still remember, on one strike day, she rode all the way to Godawari for our training and then came back to town to take class for Ministry.  I estimate that she rode about 25 kms on that day just to find out that all the staff in Ministry had already left when she reached there.  It took us few more days to subdue her anger.

Sheep Dogs

Nir Maya was her last daughter.  Nim was her nick name.  Didi always had dogs, and at one time she even had 2 dogs.  They always travelled around in Kathmandu in her bi-cycle basket.  I think Didi was a mobile nun, just without uniform.  She loved her freedom in Nepal .  May be that’s why she never married.  She was busy serving poor people when she was in her charming age.  Remember, she served over 33 years for Nepal that is nearly 50% of her adult life.  People might forget, but dogs remain loyal.  Hence dogs became her closest friends.  No surprise for me.

Final obituary to my eldest friend

Death is inevitable but some people live beyond their death.  Christine Stone will be remembered for lo….ng long time.  At least till my generation survive.   What a person she was!   A selfless being, a humble person, a freedom fighter, a purest heart.   While UK lost one OBE, Nepal lost one of our greatest friends,  UMN lost “the Educationist Extraordinaire”, Restless lost our “longest serving volunteer”.  But I lost my divine inspiration.

Christine Didi, you will be always remain in the corner of my heart.

Ravindra Shakya

7 July 2018

East London, South Africa

 

 

Kaajal from Kollywood: My Superstar

Kaajal from Kollywood: My Superstar

What come in your mind, when you hear the word Kaajal/Kajol?   Beautiful eyes, eye liner, Bollywood actress or someone whom you know by this name? But for me the first thing that comes in my mind is my colleague – Kaajal Pradhan (Malla).   Today, I am going talk about this person because this is definitely worth sharing.  And she is so special to me.  And our bonding goes back since 2001.

When I first met Kaajal, she was not any different than a common city girl.  She was raised in a middle class family, just completing her graduation, plenty of energy but don’t know what she is going to do next.  She found an advert about volunteering opportunity with Restless Development (then SPW) – just by chance.  Got a permission from her dad and joined the programme.  And her life changed forever.

Some people travel through forests and would not find any wood.  Yet others know how to sell petrol to the Arabian.  Kaajal falls in latter category.  She took every advantage of this volunteering programme.  She was placed in a village bordering India where bare basics were not even in place.  But Kaajal brought out her best side in the difficult situations.  She was best in works and her learnings.   On the final debriefing, she came out so strong against her own peers when they complained that the allowance in not enough.  “Volunteering is not for earning money, but to earn experience”, I remember she defended Restless in the discussion.  Well she always had an advantage of being positive – may be she learnt this while she was in our programme!

Kaajal is a wholesome example and complete package of Restless Development.  In her journey from volunteer to the Country Director she came through all sort of roles, from intern to manager to leader.   In every roles she set new standards and achieved extra milestones.  It was just because she is an initiator.  She never waited her supervisors to tell what to do, rather she always learnt the situation and then tell her bosses to follow her initiations.

We have known each other since 2001 and have worked together 12 years and as my deputy since last 6 years.  I couldn’t remember any fights or angry moments during all these years but yes, we disagree in different issue but eventually always come to a fruitful conclusion.  She has helped me in every matters, small, medium or big.  She has served me as my coach in IT illiteracy, become guide in my poor fashion taste.  Our relationship has grown from office to our homes.  Excepting my family, she is the only person who will address my children as Babu and Maiya.  And Kashvi, her elder daughter, was well bonded to me until she reach her adolescent.

There is a man ‘behind every successful woman’.  And Sudhir Malla is the Man, Kaajal’s Man behind all these successes.  I can write another blog about Sudhir, the gentlest man!  But for now, let me concentrate on our Superstar.   There is something to learn for us from this successful couple.  Despite been working parents, they would easily beat their colleagues in field visits, in social events, and their accomplishments.  How do they stretch their 24 hours day into 30?  It is a mystery!  But yes, I am happy to inform you here that Sudhir and Kaajal met in same programme and their first meet, became their first love and then the first (and last) marriage.  Sudhir and Kaajal – made for each other.

People talk big things about leaders, about their successes but they tend to get greedy when they have to talk about their Deputies.  I am not claiming here any big things personally, but if have done anything good for my people especially in my works, Kaajal has always been there.  We did together.   When I left Restless in 2006, she ventured out, when I re-joined she came back.  Our comeback was on the difficult time, because we had only few months funding left for our programmes.  In those uncertain times, we worked as the ‘travel agents’ or rather as the ‘insurance agents’.  Any people we used to meet became our potential clients (donors).   We learnt this together in one of our fundraising trainings.  I can declare here that she is ‘the most successful fundraiser’ in Restless Nepal’s history, if not globally.  This is only one example from her big list of achievements.

People sometimes ask me how did I transfer the leadership mantle to Kaajal?  My answer is always so easy.  There is no leadership transfer, I venture new roles and she takes mine.  In other words, she always released me from my office to become outward facing, whether it is at AIN, or with Ministries or now International roles in East/South Africa.  I wish we can produce more Kaajals in Nepal, strong women leaderships are still so scarce for our countries.

If my wife is the best person in my life, Kaajal is the best person in my profession.  In my 35 years of professional life, Kaajal is the nearest and will always be one of my dearest colleagues.  Sorry guys, I have to speak the truth.  And Sudhir, what the Man you have been for Kaajal!

Well, today I am writing this note from Tanzania while Kaajal is taking the wholesome charge in Nepal.  Yes, one thing I can tell you all is that this partnership will continue, until we both retire.

If you create a male leader he will create few more, if you create a female leader she will benefit the whole society.

East London, South Africa

1 July 2018

 

 

 

Empty-handed we come, Empty-handed we go *

Empty-handed we come, Empty-handed we go *

Moving into a new house

I have been living in Tanzania since last 3 weeks with my friend and his family.  Now my friend has decided to move into a new house after 5 ½ years.  I am moving with them.  And it is happening today.  He was little sentimental this morning and says that this is the only place that his children know as their home.  But life goes on.  Change is inevitable.  And situation demands changes.  But we do get attachments with our places, especially our house where spent our times.

My ‘dream’ home

I grew up in a downtown Kathmandu.  Those days you will rarely see any vehicles in the streets therefore playing spaces were plentiful.  So we used to spend more time outside our houses playing and mingling with the neighbors.  We played until it gets dark.  My Grandma used to call me to get back home but our games would not have finished yet.  Grandma’s first calls would be very gentle and I would not return home until the calls become serious warnings!  I know Grandma can never get angry with me and food is served with my Grandpa when I return home.  My Grandpa was the ‘wisest’ person I have ever met.  We had a very special bonding despite we had 65 years of gap in our ages.  We used to sleep together and Grandpa has a habit of doing gentle message on my body.  Before I sleep, I always had some stories told by my Grandpa, usually about his times in Tibet.  All those things still come in my dreams, the stories, and the house.  I will never forget my first house until I will die.  We sold that house when grandpa died, that was some 40 years back and I still pause whenever I pass through that location.  Amazingly the house is still intact in an original forms and survived 2 major earthquakes.  I wish I can get back this house again, but now a days houses in downtown Kathmandu are too expensive.  So I will keep enjoying my sweet dreams of my first home.

Giving Away Culture

After my first home, I have moved to 3 more houses, but my first love will remain first. When we moved from our second home I roughly had 11 suitcases, but when we moved from the third one, I had 94 boxes + suitcases + furniture + my children.  We have accumulated so many things during that time.  As I was arranging the shifting, I counted 43 new key chains scattered around.  In my collections, there were things which I might need once in my life time and there were things which I will never use at all.  We just keep on collecting things, and we don’t have habit of giving away.  From my last move, I had made a rule for myself, ‘I can buy new thing but I have to give away my old ones’.  I tell you, this rule works pretty well.

Giving away culture is a good thing.  The more you give the more you get.  For instance, if you enter your classroom with one nice smile, you will get smile back from entire team.  When I gave away all my key chains and unused furniture, instantly I got two things back: lots of thank Qs and more space in my house. These furniture were charging me extra money for its space!   But the best things to share are not always money or materials, but it would be love, wisdom, ideas, learning.  Grandpa shared so much of his wisdom in my early life, I feel I should do same thing to my people.

 

Attachment and Suffering

There are some great teachers who talked about Attachment.   Buddha’s teaching says, “Attachment is the root of suffering”.  Dalai Lama once said “most of our troubles stem from attachment to things that we mistakenly see as permanent”.  I tend to agree with them and trying to linking these learnings into practice.  But not that easy.  We have too many sentiments attached with the materials we own.  Even when it is in a scrap condition we don’t want to through away because of these sentiments.  According to one research, it suggests that we only wear 20% of our clothes from our wardrobe regularly.  I remember once my relative had to through away a big pile of authentic Tibetan Carpets, because it was kept damp in the attic.  She could have used it which would have lasted longer than storing it.  She was so attached with the carpet that she did not even want to use it in her daily life, until it was damaged.  Obviously, she was so sad because it was the gift brought by her late husband all the way from Lhasa!

Money can’t buy me home

Home is where your heart lies.  And that is true in many ways.  If I have money I can buy house, but I can’t still make it my home until I instill people living inside with love, affection, warmth and many other things.   Money can’t buy me home.  I am trying to make home in Tanzania.  I am trying to make family away from family.

Well our house move in Tanzania is over now.  Everything is transported from old to new house.   Nothing’s left over.  And I can see my friend still missed the chance to through away few things.  Well, what do I say!  Perhaps I will ask him to read this blog when he will have time, someday!

3 February 2018

Moving from Mokecheni to Mbezi Beach, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

*(this blog is inspired from Alexander the Great’s story: Three last wishes.  Also read this story http://bit.ly/2DZakVQ  if you have time).

 

 

 

Madam Moda: Restless’ souvenir for Madam Tussauds

Nepal has some serious records to share to our global family.  No, it’s not only the tallest mountain, deepest gorge, highest lake, or the smallest man http://bit.ly/2DI0EPh….  But we also hold the record of longest serving staff, happiest amongst us all, and probably the most smiley face in Restless.  Yes, she is serving 25^th year of her nonstop service to Restless Development.  This is her silver jubilee year which also coincides with my silver jubilee marriage anniversary.   I wish to celebrate these twin silver jubilees, but for now I want to talk about Madam Moda.

Yes Madam Moda, that is how she is respectfully called in all Ministries, government offices and our partners in Nepal.  As soon as she will enters the government offices, she gets the privilege of special seat, tea is served, and our files comes out from the huge piles to the top.  There are ‘special languages’ our bureaucrats/diplomats speak in Nepal, and she knows all these phrases by heart.  Usually better than our bureaucrats themselves.  Every sort of liaising or approvals from the government she has done without single hiccup.  This doesn’t mean that our bureaucracies are all that easy.  In government policies, they always claim to make it simpler by adding new processes.  For example to obtain a visa, she used to follow-up 14 offices and 34 desks.  And Moda is always updated and well versed with all these systems, formalities, processes, and the people.  More so, she is sought by many other organizations for her advice and expertise.  She has provided many free ‘consultancies’ for member INGOs, when I served as the elected Treasurer/Secretary of AIN www.ain.org.np

Now, let me reintroduce to you my inspiration in Restless.  Madam Moda is officially, Mrs. Moda Dhakal, 46, with husband and no dependents because her only child, a daughter, got married some 2 years back.  So being an ‘empty nest’ mother, she spend more time in office/outside than in her home.  In every successful woman there is a great man!  I want to believe this.  Moda is always been supported by her devote husband. He is a head teacher and is about my age so we have been mutual admirers since long time.

Moda joined Schools Partnership Worldwide in 1992 in a very modest role.  She was the ‘Receptionist cum # 2’, with a diverse role from housekeeping, to maintaining external relationships to deputizing the CD.  Since that time she never had her own office room because she has been handling the front desk ever since we knew.  I met her first time in June 1999 when I was called for a written test for my CD’s roles. She gave me 50 minutes instead of 1 hour for the exam, and counted my computing arrangements.  So my first impression on her was that she is a strict secretary.  Over the time I experienced all her beautiful personality and attributes which I will try to describe here.

Keep calm and wear a beaming smile just like the Buddha! That’s what she does.  Being in the front desk, she encounters every sort of people, and sometimes even angry, nervous, anxious, demanding visitors.  Her soft voice, cheerful smile, and her friendly nature solves 50% of the problems.  She screens almost all of our external calls and most of the queries are dealt by herself.  She is a bank of information and the biggest institutional memories.

Madam Moda, is a real survivor.  She endured 10 CD including my two terms.  Supported me in each changes and initiatives.  She supported us in big turbulences including a court case against Restless.  I left Restless in June 2006 till December 2010.  During this period, her salary was reduced by 40% as a part of a “structural adjustment”.  She remained peaceful and untouched with all these adjustments.  When I came back in Dec 2010, literally I was left with a programme coordinator (Nara), 2 short-term consultant volunteers from UK, and 3 months budget and of course MODA.  I remember when she welcomed me back, she gave me a garland, a home-made sweets and the warm hug saying, ‘you can do it, bro!’  And we did it, yes, we did it together.

In every government evaluations, in every MoUs with the partners, in every difficult negotiations with the government, she has been in the front line, keeping me safely as the ‘trump card’ in all those negotiations.  She might had saved my 1000s of hours by taking over many of my difficult dealings with the ‘external partners’.   And she has never demanded any credit for all these successful negotiations.  She had groomed so many volunteers to become interns, officers, managers and even becoming her boss and our new CD.  With all her modesty and humility, she has always enjoyed that upbringing, and never had personality clash with any of her bosses.

I feel we have under-acknowledged her, but she deserves much better.  For the person who had devoted ‘quarter century’ and mean 25 years of her life in Restless with incomparable devotion, I think she deserve a ‘life time achievement award’.  We don’t have such reward, the only ‘reward trip’ she has done was when she represented Nepal with a Ministry’s Officer in Rajib Gandhi Youth Congress in India.    That’s all.  I feel guilty about this.   I wish I can bring her in East Africa to share her wisdom.  Perhaps, our UNR/FCR/WW can support! J.

So, guys this is my wish:  If I am ever given a charge to do Madam Tussauds Museum in Nepal, I will first order to make Madam Moda’s status.  And I will place in the main gate who will welcome all the guests with the calm, warm and cheerful smile!

28 January 2018, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

From Craig Ferla (former Tanz CD’s) home.

Photo credit to our colleague Manish (during Moda’s Daughter wedding).

Under African Skies

Stretching to Africa

Sun is setting and it’s time for me to set out for my trip.  Trip overnight to Tanzania.  Time for me to stretch from Nepal to Africa.

Africa is the place where our humanity started.  As I am a believer in the ‘theory of evolution’, I feel that I am going back to our ancestral home.  The Caves where early human wrote their first inscriptions.  Place where people learnt to control and master Fire from this part of the world.  Early Stone Tools that our ancestors developed around these places.  Yes, it all happened in Africa.  These are the proven facts.  There are evidences in Tanzania, in Uganda.  And that’s where I am going to be based for next 9 months.

Away from home, away from my family.  But I will have a new home, as I will be staying with my friend.  He was born in Zambia with British parents, raised in the UK, visited Nepal in late 80s, travelled to Africa with his Dad, and then came back to work since last 25 years!  My host has a lovely family, most adorable children, both girls, aged 10 and 5.  I developed a special bonding with the little one when I was there in last October.  ‘Can I sing a song for you?’ She sings jingles for me, but usually repeats her favourite one.

Travelling alone is not a great fun.  But I have learnt to cope with it.   5 ½ hours from KTM to Abu Dhabi, 8 hours of waiting for connecting flights in the airport, then another 6 hours to reach Dar es Salaam.  In my first flight, my side bencher were a couple.  I greeted with my Nepali smile before I sat next to them.  Got no response.   Tried one more time with nice ‘Hello, how do you do’.  Still no reaction.  Another 5 ½ hours we travelled together with no communications.  Perhaps that’s how some people perceive Nepali, treat our migrant workers as if they are second class passengers.  The rates they have paid for the tickets are perhaps equal, but the treatment they get from the crew and fellow passenger can be different.  But official classification is that we are all ‘economy class passengers’.  There were many young Nepali onboard going to become ‘migrant workers’ and I am one of them, this time.

Nepal helps Qatar to maintain their riches and growth

No country has been rich by sending their young people outside their country.  If that could have happened, Philippines would have been the richest country in the world!  And Nepal would have been rich since very long time.  Because Nepal has a long history of sending migrating workers.  My grandfathers were migrant workers who worked as traders in Tibet.  We have British Gurkhas who became Lahures before WW1.  We still have seasonal migrants who leave home every year to work in neighboring countries.  And now we have these young people in Middle East and in East Asia.  We are certainly helping countries like Qatar to maintain their riches and growth even in the time of economic blockade.

In early 80s when I started travelling in International flights, most of the people on board used to be tourists or elite Nepalis.  Now it is tourist and poor Nepalis.  Those ‘poor rural nepali young people’ do deserve some respects, my friend.  They are just the victim of our politics, and the result of our poorly managed resources.  If they are given better options in country, I bet, very few people will like to leave their families, friend and the beautiful sceneries.

Anyway, my 8 hours waiting in Abu Dhabi airport was not too boring this time, as I met many young Nepalis working in the airport.  Most of them seems enjoying their works and happy to see me going beyond Middle East to work.

All’s well that ends well

My last leg of the journey was nice one, because I had a nice South Korean man beside my seat.  He was on a business trip, travelling with his colleagues, but spend some good time talking with me.  Surprisingly, he seem to be less informed than me with about his northern relative.  So, I updated him few things about North Korea and US which he did not know.  And yes, he shared some interesting wisdom of his life.  He talked me how he maintained his work-life harmony living in the 6^th largest economy in the world.  “I dump all my baggage of work tensions as I take off my office uniform, and then wear the family uniform”.  “In weekends, I pamper myself but in works I give 200% to my company”.  I noted those wise word from my new friend, will try to use it in my Restless schedules.

That’s why Doctors are called Medical Practitioners

Throughout this travel, one thing that really bothered me was my toothache.   I had a wisdom tooth extracted just 4 days before my trip.  I was having ‘cheek bite’ because of my wisdom teeth.  I consulted with the ‘experienced’ doctor and he assured me that it is matter of few minutes but it took almost an hour to extract.  He was eager to extract both sides but my ‘wisdom’ told that I should do one at the time.  And this one extraction is proving too much for me.  Still in painkiller after 8 days in Tanzania.  For some doctors, it was a business, but for patients, it is not a business as usual.  I did tell the Doctor Dentist that I am travelling.  He told me to message in viber if I had any problems, I have done it, and received no reply.  I like the word ‘practicing’ in doctors’ professions.  Coincidence is that ‘I work with young people’ and he ‘practice’ on patients.

Being an ‘Eggetarian’ in Africa

Being vegetarian is not that easy in many countries.  Well I am actually an ‘Eggitarian’ for practical reasons.  And scientifically, no one can become 100% vegetarian because we will consume bacteria or germ in some ways in our food.  So pure vegetarian is a mythical term.  If it is a matter of survival with no choice, I will remember the footballers’ story of Andes.  But for fun or taste, I will never eat meat again.  I have lived quite healthy since last 20 years being Eggiterian and has spend good times in Africa.  So I will try to continue to ‘practice’ my living style this time as well.  In Africa, if I say I am a vegetarian, they might say “ok, then we will serve you chicken’.  Chicken for me is chick.  Anyway, I have found a nice restaurant near our office which serves vegetables, rice, fruits.  And it is much cheaper than meaty dishes.  I am inspired by Gandhi in this case, he found a vegetarian circle even in early 19^th century in London.  I will surely find some people like me in my place, in Tanzania.

I will continue to share my times in Africa, where I will be serving as the International Director for my Agency.  I am sure that you will like to hear some of my upcoming stories.  I already had few, by the way.  But until next time, thank for reading my scribbling.

20 January 2018, Mikocheni, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

One Rupee less 420

Altogether, I was not a bad student in my schools days.  But there was so called syndicate of Top 5 students in my class.  I was not included in that club.  Although I usually scored highest in many of my subjects, but Maths was my weakest and I hated algebra.  Therefore, in an aggregate I was out from the Top 5.  The best I did was in my Grade V, when I stood 3^rd chiseling the syndicate of my top colleagues.  That year, I was first in all my subjects but Maths, I still just made it.

I was best in the classes which were considered as the odd subjects: Social Studies, History, Geography…  And yes, English was my ‘syndicate subject’ despite the fact that I was not my English teacher’s favorites.  I was not his chosen one because I used to ask many questions and sometimes even dared to argue.  Hence, my teacher liked his ‘obedient’ student who was second best to me in this subject.  My best friends in my school were playful and sporty guys but not the academically good ones.  The only time teachers would appreciate us were the times when we brought medals from outside.  But my gang had more fun and no doubt more popular with other students than the Top 5s.  I have many happy memories with my group, which I ‘co-led’ with a girl.  No, not a girlfriend, let me be clear.  We were quite professional even in those days.

I recall, on one incident our entire class went river fishing in the break time and were caught up by the teacher.  Punishment was spared for the girls and Top 5s but we were doubly punished because my English teacher concluded that my group spoiled the entire class.  Our fishes were seized.  When some of us protested, we were sent off from the remaining classes.  We never knew what our teacher did with our fishes.  The conclusion of our group was that “we are just the victim of bad politics in our schools”.

Yes politics, I wanted to become a politician and enter either Law or Social Studies (Arts) college.  But no one agreed with me, even my family!  Many of my well-wishers wanted me to become a doctor or an engineer.  I had to compromise, I joined a college of Management.  In the final semesters, I spend more time in table tennis hall than in my classes.  As a result, I failed in my best subject – English!

My dad concluded that I am in a bad acquaintance and decided for me that I should do a job.  Being failed meant I had to wait for entire year so I had plenty of time to spare.  So he found a newly opened ‘expatriate managed school’ and secured an interview for me with a British Lady who happened to be the Board Chair.  I did well in my first interview, and was offered a job – as a Maths Teacher!  I requested her if I can have English classes, but she told me that they have just selected a new English teacher.  With no choice, I took up my first job in my weakest subject.  As a part-time Mathematics teacher.  This news became a big joke in my friends circle.

The first few months in my new job, I did lots of Maths practicing in my home before going to my classes.  This school was supported by a charitable organization called Tear Fund (UK, and Holland) and provided vocational training for school dropouts. Most of the students were around my age.  Then, I was just 20.  On the first salary day, I was called by my Dutch Principal and acknowledged me that I was doing very well with my Math classes.  He said that I was the most liked teacher amongst the students.  “You are like their peer”, he told me.  Then he asked me to sign my salary sheet and handed over the envelope.  Nervously, I scanned the figure before signing, which started with 2 with many zeros (000..).  I quickly went to the toilet and to open the envelope.  It was Rs. 200.00!  As the treat of my first salary day evening, my friends made me spent Rs. 250 in a restaurant.  This way, my first job’s first salary ended as a deficit business.

For several months, I was stuck in the same salary range.  Then the time came when the school management offered to double my salary and classes which amounted Rs. 420!  In our country, number 420 was not so auspicious (thief’s cell) hence I explained my boss to increase or decrease the amount.  My boss didn’t like my reasoning hence he agreed to reduce my salary by 1 Rupee.  So for few more years, I had a salary one rupee less than 420.

After few years, the school management decided to expel our Administrator and asked me and the English Teacher to cover this role for a transitional period.  The offer was conditional.  I will remain in the same salary, one rupee less than 420!  While I took this offer as an opportunity to learn new roles, my counterpart took it as an extra burden.  After few weeks, the board meeting decided to offer me the role of Administrator.  The real breakthrough in my career.  In every steps, my Dutch Principal took a risk with me and groomed me as if I were his son.  Later, when my Principal decided to leave, I was asked to I manage the entire school as an Acting Principal.  Then I was just 23, and the year was 1986.

So, this is the story of my first job.  Rising from the weakest subject to Acting Principal of the school.  Today, I feel proud to share this story.  In those days, I was driven by the quotation written by one of my friends in my autograph: ‘Failures are the Pillars of the Success’.  Yes, failures are altogether not a bad thing.  We all fail sometimes, somewhere in our lives but failures do bring new options in our lives.  Sometimes even better options.  No regrets that I failed in my best subject.  After all, 420 is not a bad number.

Postscript

Few years back I managed to visit my Dutch Principal’s home in rural Netherlands.  We gossiped so much, which went over midnight.  Next day, in our breakfast my Principal’s wife teased us that we talked as the long separated couples.  Even now, we never miss to exchange our greetings in our birthdays, and New Year’s.

The British Lady who took my first interview still lives in Nepal.  She is in late eighties and I visit her in special occasions although she can’t remember me because of Alzheimer’s disease.

It is my way to pay my respects to these elders, who helped in my early careers.

31 December 2017