Pad Bank: Paving the path for menstrual taboo free society (Story of Transformation 41)

For the most beautiful creature

I am said, I question what’s

that beautiful to me?

For the most intelligent human

I am told, I question what

matters my being?

For I am lost.

For I am fearful

For I suffer and also differ.

Most importantly I bleed.

I bleed my heart out.

I bleed my soul out;

sometimes frequently,

sometimes infrequently.

At that moment, I hate my body.

I hate my soul.

I hate my beauty and hate my intellect too.

I long for a friend and that’s you;

my sanitary pad.

            A few days ago, I was asked to write some lines for that one material that is dear to me. As you can see it is none other than a sanitary pad. I just couldn’t find anything else that is so dear to me. I don’t like to explain the reason for it will be yet another cliché for some other person who might go through it. But, what I do know is everyone appreciates the role of a sanitary pad in any female’s life. However, this omnipresent problem is yet still an object of taboo. In certain societies of Nepal, women, especially schoolgirls, go through different challenges just because they are menstruating and there’s no availability of good sanitary pads.

Promisha Mishra, 27, an engineering student realized the same and has started working on this. Having gone through some rough years in school days during her menstrual cycle, she was thoughtful enough to think about other teenage girls going through the same problem.

In one of their causal coffee talks, she along with her friends started sharing their menstrual issues with each other. Some common norms during menstruation at their homes led them to think of what girls in rural areas might be going through. This informal talk turned into an informal research project which further showed the need to talk about menstruation and menstrual hygiene in some of the nearby villages.

            “We found that most of the government offices and school administration didn’t have any facility of sanitary pads. That made us think about how many girls might be missing their classes just because they don’t have any access to sanitary pads.” Mishra shared her story of how their attention focused towards working in the schools of Bara.

            They started approaching people and organizations through social media. Some of the NGOs like Prolaw, Sano Paila and some of their friends and local people were kind enough to lend them their supporting hands for their campaign ‘Pad Bank’. In coordination with Community Development Program, Local Ward Office and Nepal Rastirya Secondary School and some volunteers, they conducted their first workshop on menstrual hygiene and distributed sanitary pads in Bara.

                        Realizing the importance of sanitary pads and necessary medicines in schools for regular attendance of the students, after the workshop, the school principal and the ward president promised to make them available in the schools. Promisha and her team hope for similar kind of impact even in the coming days. However, the prevalence of the belief that disposal of sanitary pads leads to the barrenness in women has become a major challenge. Also, many people think it’s difficult for them to invest in such products. Meanwhile, owing to the government’s indifference, they have had to invest their energy in educating people about the importance of such products.

            Few months into the initiation, this campaign has already seen an impact. The team is now more enthusiastic to spread this to several other rural areas. For them, transformation is when the government will take menstrual hygiene also as one of its priorities and every government offices and schools will have menstrual products available for free. May small efforts like this turn into some really transformative network and some day we can see our country free of menstrual taboos.


(P.S. And with this story, I end my series 'Story of Transformation'. I will definitely be back, though. with my tits and bits of writing.)

         

Sherap Gyaltsen Lama: Walking the Forbidden Path (Story of Transformation 40)

Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with?

Umm… Quite a difficult place to imagine yourself in.

However, it’s also true that you find love in a hopeless place. And as Allan Dare Pearce says, “Having something forbidden is exciting, don’t you agree?”

Sometimes love is not a person, but a road you want to walk on.

Sherap Gyaltsen Lama, 24, a native of a remote village of Gorkha, was born to be a monk. Yes, belonging to a family where being monk is a rite of passage, as a middle child, Sherap had to come to Kathmandu for the same. This was after the sudden death of his father when he was four. However, one of his relatives advocated for his education, arguing that he was too young to be a monk. Fortunately, one of the Buddhist schools offered him a scholarship and he went for it. Receiving scholarships from Buddhist schools and high schools continued and he even completed his undergraduate studies with the help of a sponsor.

With all these favors, the pressure to become a monk was piling up. However, the shy child was deeply fascinated not by maroon robes but by stylish designs flaunted by actors and models in newspapers and magazines. Life continued at its own pace and so did his journey. He could neither express his love for his passion nor work on it as the profession had its own set of skills required.

With a lot of confusion in his head, he went around searching for inspiration from different workshops. Treading along these lines, he happened to get into Mentorship Pathway’s 10 Week Mentorship Program. The sessions probed him to ask deep questions about himself: the choices he was making and the dissatisfaction he was facing in his life. One of the sessions on attitude management touched him deeply. It motivated him to put grit above subject skills and knowledge and try things out in life. He realized it was modeling that he wanted to try his hands on. Yet still, he was afraid of the reactions he would get from his family, relatives and most of all from his society.

Determined, he decided to be a part of ‘Mr and Miss Glamour Icon, 2017’ and at least get the idea of what it feels to be a model for some weeks. But as one can expect, when you get the taste of the forbidden fruits, you want them even more. The same happened with Sherap. He gave his hundred percent and also bagged the title of the best model of the event. This achievement not only awed the people who knew him but Sherap himself.

He was always afraid to go after his forbidden love imagining the reaction it would evoke from society. But then, now when he has actually gone for it, his community members are felicitating him for actually daring to break the chains of societal pressure. These days Sherap is happily walking on the forbidden road with some interesting opportunities awaiting him.

Yes, you may be just one step away from your forbidden love if you dare to express. Sherap’s story certainly suggests it.  

Daily Reflection: Taking time to pause (Story of Transformation 39)

When was the last time you reflected about yourself?

Most probably 30 days back when this year embarked.

The first month of 2018 said “Goodbye”.

Do the oaths that we took on the first day of the year still make sense?

“Umm... Somewhat.”

This fleeting moment demands a continuous self-reflection. Don’t you think so?

Yes, it's good to reflect at the end of the year. However, my growing realization is that every minor event with its actions and reactions in our life has to be reflected. By the end of the year, we might remember the major events forgetting the minor ones. The ones which could have helped us wake up as a better person every morning. 

With this realization, I have tried to develop the habit of reflecting every day pretty strongly from this year.  At the end of every day, I journal my day so that I can improve myself continuously.

My personal values are ‘growth’ ‘depth’ and ‘care’. And I try to encompass these values even in my journal. When it comes to journaling, growth for me is not just writing words but playing with it and being creative. So, I try to come up with quatrain (four lines poetry) every day.  

To say, I will start reflecting every day is quite easy but to be accountable is extremely hard. Thus, I have made my reflection public through my social media with this I feel holding myself accountable to a group of people and feel positive pressure to keep it up.

And daily reflection for last one month has brought a positive change in me. Taking a pause was something I lacked last year. And journaling has helped me with this. Gradually I feel being able to take a mindful pause because as soon as I feel something terrible has happened I go back to my journal and read my reflections. 

Daily reflection has made me realize that every day is a roller coaster ride. Abysmal, today's ride may be, but it will definitely add a value to my forthcoming coaster. 

Working on her Spiritual Life; Marie Kay, a Commercial Lawyer from China (Story of Transformation 38)

A month back, I was questioned regarding the gravity of self-awareness by one of the trainees at a workshop. Whimsical about my emphasis on it, he quoted one of his aged MBA professors of his MBA classes and sarcastically asked if knowing oneself matters this early if a successful career is largely down to accident.

I tried to outwit him with whatever reply I could muster. However, I wasn't entirely convinced with my own answer. The question, having placed itself somewhere in my unconscious, would pop up time and again nudging for an answer until the day I met Marie.

***
“Hi, I am Marie Kay (name changed on request). I am studying Buddhist Studies and Tibetan Language here at Kathmandu University. What do you do?”

Kay welcomed me with a warm smile as I stepped into the jeep heading to Raithane, Sindhupalchowk.

We both were on the same destination to support the initiative of Teach For Nepal, ‘One Day in a Classroom’. I was going to teach grade 10 while she was preparing for grade 7. 

“So, what are you planning to teach the students?” I asked her.

“Actually, I am not teaching. I will just be sharing the challenges I faced as an Asian woman while working as a commercial lawyer.” Kay shared.

That was how we began exchanging our stories. I discovered that 47-year-old Marie started her journey as a linguist to later become a busy lawyer and now a student of Buddhism in the quest of finding the meaning of her life.

My early conversations with her were so inspiring that though it was the first time we had met, I talked with her all throughout the evening after reaching Raithane. And I feel the story of her spiritual journey is worth sharing.

I was amazed by how much she is open about her life and felt deeply connected to her even in that short meet. It was because her story made me understand how her journey led her towards self-awareness which in turn inspired her to find meaning in whatever she does or will be doing after she returns to her homeland.

Born as a younger daughter in a simple family in Hong Kong, attaining a degree from the University of Cambridge, England was a goal she hadn’t dared to dream while in high school. Kay’s father was an electrician while her mother used to work in a factory. But then during summer holidays of her undergrad years, she decided to work in a publication house from where she learned about the scholarships being offered at the university. She still remembers her supervisor sharing, “No matter how hard you work here at Hong Kong, it’s still a small place. You deserve more and studying in a university like Cambridge will make you accepted worldwide.” She wanted to achieve that global acceptance.

Fortunately, she was accepted as a graduate student in Master in Linguists in Cambridge and was also offered a scholarship.

As I listened to her story, it became clear how her early life had led her to dream a sophisticated life. She started dreaming of being globally recognized. Her story was an extraordinary example of Malcolm Forbes saying: “When you cease to dream you cease to live.”

After she completed her masters she returned to Hong Kong and started working at a law firm there to set up their translation department. There she got an opportunity to work with a lot of lawyers. That also made her realize that she had very less income compared to a lawyer. Also, her position as a translator was at a lower end in the supply chain in comparison to the lawyers. This prompted her to go for another degree in her life. “My life has been full of co-incidences” Kay laughingly recollects her life. “First, I wanted to be an educator, then co-incidence happened and I turned to be an advocate in the court”.

First, she worked as a government prosecutor then later she got an opportunity to work in a private firm. “I opted for the private firm because it was one of the top-ranked international firms and it was going to give me a chance to be a litigator, which I always dreamed of after working hard for three years to complete my law degree.”

Then, something about commercial litigation hit her hard. She started realizing that more than helping people, it was about making more money every day. She remembers how her boss kept saying that she needed to keep her client interested in pursuing litigation in order to keep her job.  “I was 29 then, young to realize how tough this is going to be for my clients. Rather than trying to conclude the process and help them solve the problem, we were focused on continuing the litigation just to earn for ourselves." She slowly started finding it hard to enjoy her job. While she was contemplating on whether to continue her job or not in 2001, she was asked to move to the commercial law department in the same firm because it was in need of someone who could translate the documents into Chinese. She was selected for the job given her earlier experience in helping multinational clients who wanted to invest in China.

Whatever I was hearing about her job and her lifestyle it was something most of us dream of. However, in August 2017 she decided to leave everything and come to Nepal to find a new path for herself.

Like for others, what provoked her to take that step was something of my interest too.

“I kind of had the feeling that I was running after something. You may also call it a mid-life crisis. However, I was at a point where I was asking myself if I still wanted to continue whatever I was doing. At some point, I used to contemplate if I could ever climb the next step of the correct ladder. Being an Asian, that too a woman it would be difficult because there are still subconscious white male differences lurking over as glass ceiling. At some point, I questioned if shouting and crying or making any effort to meet all those targets made sense.” She started sharing in a relaxing tenor.

One of the teachings on the internet by a Rinpoche, two years back, caught her attention. Then she searched for him and his books and started reading them. "Slowly, I started to search for the people interested in these issues and found that in Buddhism. I had chosen not to get married and also not to have kids, which let me change my life paths easily as I didn't have many financial burdens. Thus, when one of my friends shared about the course that I'm studying now, it was easy for me to come to Nepal leaving everything behind.”

“How is life different now?” I questioned.

With a smile, she answered, “Now I am living a life of my own. Though, most of the time I am inside my quite room doing my assignments, I feel a lot happier.”

What Marie has learned so far is that we don’t really need to go to a cave and be a monk to meditate. Rather it’s our day to day practice. It’s how ethical and focused we are in whatever we do and here, by focus, she doesn’t mean running after power and position but after meaning. Betty wants to return to China after she completes her study and continue as a part-time lawyer and be empathetic towards her clients rather than just dive into the competition of earning more. She shares, “With all these experiences and this transformation, I don't want people to believe that I will now be available for something cheap. I'm still expensive. Because I know my time and effort is valuable. I will try to find value in whatever I will be doing."

With all the turning points in life, for Marie, transformation in life means being at peace emotionally and spiritually. Being an atheist all her life, she feels that working on her spiritual life has made her stronger. For her, life should be left simple and as an individual, we just can be a better version of ourselves.

***
Marie, successful in whatever she was doing, when looks back, realizes how meaningful her life could have been if only she had tamed her spiritual life. Self-awareness at an early age helps us create a future we want to experience by making a deliberate choice. 

That day, I changed my religion (Story of Transformation 36)

She had always loved her long black hair.

“Bhawana, you need to grow your hair.” She used to suggest me caressing my boy haircut.

Managing my hair and tying them was the most irritating job for me. I used to tease her saying someday I would like to see her go bald.

When I said that, I had never realized how scary it would feel to see her later with no hair.

The doctors had lost all their hopes in her and had asked her parents if they could ask her what her last wishes were.

“I want to be with my best friend” Shova had gestured after her three months long stay at Bharatpur Cancer Hospital.

***

Cycling used to be our best hobby. We used to ride shouting and dancing through the riverbanks, terrains, roads and all.

When I got a call from her mother that Shova is back and desperately wants to meet me, I jumped with happiness. I thought our joyful days were back and we would be riding our bicycles soon unwary of the fact that I would find my dearest friend so weak that she wouldn’t even be able to talk properly. 

When I reached her place, she was on her bed with her scary bald look drinking a avocado juice. She gave a big bright smile and gestured to me to sit next to her. She hugged me tight and said, “Bhawana, I love you and I missed you so much.”

I touched her head. I didn’t even realize when tears had already started to roll down my face.

For the first time in my life, I was afraid of losing someone. I was afraid of being lonely. I wanted her so desperately in my life that I could do anything to have her with me forever.

“If you ask with a pure heart, God gives you everything.” My mother always used to share this with me. I thought of asking God to let her be with me.  I wasn’t sure if that God was in a temple, in church or in Mosque. That 15-year-old Bhawana couldn’t actually find out whom to ask. I had never walked outside of home beyond school. I asked permission with my mom to go to Dharan just because all three homes of God were there. My mom denied. She didn’t trust me that I could go there alone and return safely. Dharan was well known for goons then. She asked me to wait till Saturday.

But I couldn’t wait. The very next day, I fled from home and met every God to help me. I cried in front of each of them and asked to let me have my friend with me. My mom had a huge trust in them. I was convinced that they would definitely listen to me.

***

My dearest Shova took her last breath a week after.

I was angry with God. I felt he cheats on people asking them to trust him and then betrays them. I went to my home, threw away all the pictures of him. Then my mom said, “God had already decided her life when she was a child and he can’t change it now.”

I contemplated over her saying. If life is really so unpredictable and things can’t be changed why should we believe in some outer being in the name of God? I asked God to let me have her in my life. Was that really possible for him if he was there?

"Of course not."

She is my friend and it’s me who would be letting her be with me or not. Our love was pure and physical departure doesn’t really make me apart from her.

She is inside me, deep inside me. Whenever I am sad, she sits besides me and hugs me. I still feel her kiss on my forehead. Whenever I am alone, she teases me saying, “Bhawana, won’t you go back to your boy haircut?”

As she breathed her last air in, I breathed out my belief in God. I changed my religion.

Life is full of challenges and everyone tries to get through them by trusting some outer being that they call religion. For me, my religion is my inner being, which I can trust in any situation. I hope your religion is the basis of your self-motivation.

A Turn up for the Books (Story of Transformation 35)

       "The whole world opened to me when I learned to read." Mary Mcleod Bethune

       It all started with ‘Muna’, a monthly magazine for children.

     My mom handed me a copy of it one fine day saying "padnu parcha, naya naya kura taha huncha" (Reading helps in your exploration). I was in grade one, maybe. I went through the pages one by one fascinated by those beautiful pictures. I realized it had stories written by students. I wanted to write one.

        Sort of words; I realized.

        Even these days when I sit down to write, I feel; I am sort of words, I am not good at vocabularies... I am stuck most of the times when it comes to prepositions. 

"Should I use ‘on’ or ‘ín’ here?" I struggle. 

       I hesitate to call myself a writer because I feel like writers are the most intelligent person and the tag writer bongs on my head with the question ‘Do I qualify to call myself a writer?’

     I stumble to answer it. But yes what I would be happy to call myself is an amateur who doesn’t want to quit writing as it lets me express. It lets me dream.

      “Sorry, I drifted away. I am not going to write about writing today.”

     “Yes, that’s why I am not a writer. I keep on drifting away from my context.” J

      So, ‘Muna’ brought me to a whole new world of reading. Living in a nuclear family where both my parents were busy in work, and with no friends around the neighborhood, I used to be home alone most of the times and during those moments, books were my only companion.

      Reading was first a compulsion, then fascination and now a survival. I call it my basic need. If you are close to me you know, I can live without rice (staple food of Nepal) but not without books. I don’t realize when ‘Muna’ turned into Shakespeare and into Oscar Wilde and into Daniel Goleman. It just happened.

     

 I enjoy reading all genres, all writers, both poetry and prose, fiction and non-fiction. What I feel is I would have lost into the darkness of loneliness if it weren’t books, I would have never reflected about my deeds if it weren’t writers like Matthieu Richard. I would have never loved my beloved so deeply if I had never learned that love can be so deep like that of Juliet. I would have never been a feminist if it wasn’t Virgina Woolf.

      Books show me my own shift in perspective. I had generated a different meaning out of ‘Shirish ko Ful’ when I read it the first time when I was in grade 12 and then when I read it the second time in my undergrad, I realized that book was way beyond what I had inferred.

     Those lifeless pages have given life to me and not only to me but to so many other people.

Today I am sharing the list of books that friends on my Facebook shared as the one that changed their life in some ways. The list isn’t in any particular order.

1. Rich Dad Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki

2.  Harry Potter by JK Rowling'

3. Peer-e-Kamil by Umera Ahmed

4. The 8^th Habit by Stephen Covey

5. Biography of Warren Buffett by Lawrence A. Cunningham

6. Who moved my cheese? by Spencer Johnson

7. Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

 8. The Fountain Head by Ayn Rand

 9. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

 10. Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman

11. Personality by Swami Vivekananda

12.  The Diamond Sutra by Osho

13. The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen

14. Jane Ayre by Charlotte Bronte

15. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

16. The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg

17.  Gulmohar English Reader (A Secondary level English Book)

18. Goldmund and Narcissus - Herman Hesse

I strongly believe that this list of books will definitely bring a new perspective in your life. I would love to learn your viewpoint as for me reading is not just going through the words of the writer but it's also giving your perspective to it.

Finally, if you are wondering how can you grow your love for reading or just wanting to share whatever you have read, don’t hesitate to join us in our weekly reading session ‘Reader’s Circle’https://www.facebook.com/events/640249989517770/.   

Flaunting the Imperfect Stories (Story of Transformation 33)

“Let’s talk about imperfect bodies.”

Okay, let me start with myself.

I recently got diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), in simple terms imbalance in hormones.

If you look at it simply, it’s just that your hormones are not functioning properly, but the consequences is really alarming. I gained 10 kilos of weight within a week and my face got covered with acne. And my doctor predicted that it may take couple of years to find a balance in my hormones.

I got worried.

No, not because of those weight and the acne. Yes, I felt bad about the sudden change but more than that the hormonal imbalance gave me million unnecessary mood swings. I started to get irritated easily and sadness started to haunt me.

It has already been three months and I am far better now.  You can find me happy and smiling again. But in these, three months, what people noticed was my extra weight and acne. They didn’t find that I had stopped laughing the way I used to. They didn’t see me going through that terrible stomach ache when I used to shiver even when I was talking to them. I had other several problems but every day I used to get suggestions of how I have to lose my weight because I am still single. They thought hiding aches should be my priority every morning because I could find my prince charming any time at any moment.

“Actually, why wouldn’t they suggest me that way?”

After all, we all, at least my contemporaries, all grew up reading and watching ‘Snow White’ and ‘Cindrella’. Every day there is a revelation of products that would hide our acne.

But, this incident took me back to my undergrad days when I was slim, umm! Actually thin. People would always suggest me to eat and gain some weight and again with the same purpose.

So, what is the perfect shape of our body?

What is perfection?

Google it.
Yes, we can for it gives us millions of wonderful definition of perfection.

Today, let’s hear the stories of imperfection.

She doesn’t want to reveal her name, but she shared “My first love said that his possibility of dating me would increase by 90% if I lost my weight. I didn't eat anything for a week and got really very weak; couldn't stand up, my legs would tremble.”

What a brilliant mathematician he seems to be!

But is that really his fault?

Diplove Gautam, Foundation Director at Bouddha Inn Meditation Center, considers that the thought of imperfection is an illusion, the self that our society creates for us. Unconsciously we become the victim of negative self-interpretation.

Roshan Dhungel, now, a Teach For Nepal Fellow shared an experience related to it.  “The thin lark body; never let me get out of my thoughts.”

The six packed tight body displayed in every hoarding boards and magazines made him question the body type girls would really get attracted for during his high school days. He kept on blaming himself for eating too much and working out less. The feeling went so deep that he started hating himself for not being able to attract anyone with his small face, long nose, and thin body with small arms.

Perfect body image is a constant issue faced by everyone, given how the standard of perfection is set by others. Every perfect or imperfect (whatever adjective you choose) body has a story to celebrate about. Kabeeta Shah, an undergrad student, felt sad when her tight stomach turned into a little fatty stomach after she couldn’t manage time properly for the sports that she used to play. However what she chooses now is fit body over a perfect or imperfect body these days.

Yes, flawless bodies share their own flawless story. But don’t you think those perfect stories are all made-up just as those photo shopped perfection. Because, in reality our life is filled with blemishes, scars, lumps, invisible pain and silence and all these somehow manifest in our body. And interestingly, while some people pinpoint your flaws, the other group of people crave for your features.

Asmita Gyawali, an MBA student, discloses her story of accepting her body in a beautiful way.

“I can state flaws of each and every part of my body; from my hair to my toes. Believe me, each and every part! But it is surprising to see how many girls come up to me and wish that they had features like mine. I never used to like my lips because they are uneven. My girl friends say that they'd want nothing else if they had lips like mine. Then, I started to accept that I have best of both world; a thin lip as well as thick.”

Accepting our body is about claiming our imperfect bodies completely. It is embracing the truth pain and joy that our bodies have carved in them and then transforming that into a story of what it means to live and walk around in that form.

Whatever we say, I agree that there are definitely going to be the days when we look at the full-length mirror and despise the reflection. But, the fact is we have it that way and we have to live with it then why not accept it and be happy. I would love to conclude my lines with those of Asmita’s, “I am to live with my body, why should I tire myself thinking constantly bad about it? I can just love it!”

Kathmandu: A Mother Lode of Experiences (Story of Transformation 32)

It is what he does every evening. He has his own side of the road where he places his chana chatpat truck and sells his chatpatey and panipuri. I look at his pots of grams and peas and bujiya and chillies and lemonades. They are no different than those I used to eat at my hometown Itahari, but yes, the stories those vendors share is extremely different. I found that few days back when his share of place was empty for quite a week.

When I could enjoy his panipuris again, I asked him where had he been. He with a wide grin on his face shared he had been to Janakpur. I could sense his joy as he started sharing about his family at Janakpur and how he had come to Kathmandu to meet their needs. Kathmandu for him is a madhouse, where he says he can drift the attention of the confused people with his mouthwatering panipuris.

Another share of the very road is of corn vendor didi, who is here from Karnali for her children. Roasting the corn she gasps, how her children, for whom she had shifted her place, are now ashamed of what she does for their living. Kathmandu is a grey area for her, where she has lived half of her life but could never belong.

Kathmandu!!

“But that’s the paradox of expectations; they are infamous for generally never being fulfilled.” I borrow the words of Kundan Dutta Chaudhary to describe Kathmandu.

Kathmandu had always been my dreams.

You will definitely know what I mean and how much I mean it if you have spent your childhood outskirts of this capital city. Yes, I had heard about the pollution. I was also aware about the scarcity of resources here. My parents were apprehensive when I first shared my whim of coming here alone. But, they permitted me and living here for five years, now, when I look back, I must thank Kathmandu for giving me the guts that I have right now. 

I know it’s not the place but the experiences that shape you but interestingly Kathmandu provides you with all those bitter sweet unique stories which you can never live elsewhere.

It’s interesting when landlords don’t offer their rooms to single young lady but they never bother to ask where their husband is when they are told, she is married.

“Haha. Don’t you believe this?”

Actually I am the proof. I rented a room for a year calling myself married. I find this one the most hilarious part of my life. There are so many other experiences.

Among the people I know, I have found Sweta Gyanu Baniya, the one, so much in love with her birthplace Kathmandu. The way she expresses her love for Kathmandu makes others fall in love with the place. Now, doing her Ph.D. in USA, she shares, “Kathmandu feels so close. I belong here and nowhere else.”

But, for someone who left their place for Kathmandu can also feel the same amount of closeness with the place because they have lived their dreams here. They have given their heart and soul for their city of hope. They have seen their transformation as a person. For us, Kathmandu doesn’t only represent Nepal but a dreamland where everyone aspires to move one day. Ashish Dev, who was fortunate enough to move here from Saptari in his childhood feels that “the rush and the busyness of Kathmandu leads some new people to think that this is ‘hell’ but actually it’s the epitome of the modern world.”

Yes, I call him fortunate because there are people like Anita Tamang who had lived their life dreaming about Kathmandu all their childhood. Resident of Nuwakot, Anita shares, “I was desperate about coming to Kathmandu. It was a foreign land for me where I dreamed of going to a good school and living a grand life. For me this city had all the merits. However, when I finally shifted to this place, I realized it also had all the evils. Apart from all of these, what I believe is this place gives you the guts to fulfill your dreams not because it has opportunities but because there’s no one to lean onto.” She adds, “Your friend no more becomes your friend. Everyone is running after a race of survival, that too, alone.”

It’s just like what Darwin explains in his theory ‘struggle for existence’ for those who move here from another place. And for those, who are born here this place has taught them to believe in hard work. Juni Deshar shares, “When I see and hear the stories of my friends who have moved here from their villages and are struggling to fulfill their dreams, I really get inspired. Somehow these stories has helped me shape my future that I have thought for myself, the plans that I have made. I am not talking about the big struggles and achievement one has to go through here, but all those little adjustments one has to make financially and socially is worth appreciating.”

Yes, this place has its own aura. The stories aren’t always beautiful. Many people lost themselves in the urge of finding a new self. For many, their stories are never heard. To some, it’s a place of innovation. What I have realized is Kathmandu makes everyone adopt a persona and sometimes people do fail to carry their originality when adopting it.

For me Kathmandu has made me become strong at the same time vulnerable. It has made me feel free but at the same time bounded with the choices I make. I would have never passed through so many temples all my life if it wasn’t Kathmandu but it has made me atheist because even after walking through every doors, prayers are unheard. It has made me become aware of my strengths but at the same time I find myself stuck here.

Putting everything aside, when I reflect how this place has transformed me as a person, I resonate with what my school mate Mahesh Thapa has to say, “Kathmandu taught me to survive no matter how big the problem is.” Yes, Kathmandu in its own subtle way transformed me as a person and I guess several others in their process of becoming. 

The Ghost on the Bus (Story of Transformation 31)

The first thing I felt was his touch on my calf. Irritating, I thought. I turned around and found out he was someone of my father’s age. I was eighteen then, travelling from Dharan to Itahari. I felt that was unintentional as it’s hard to find a personal space while travelling in a public vehicle.

Next stop.

Some people got off the bus and I got myself seated. The man sat next to me. The next thing I found was him, rubbing his humongous hairy hands on my thigh. I got scared and placed my hand bag in-between us. Deeply unpleasant feeling it was.

He didn’t stop. He then, pretended to fold his arms and then tried to touch my breast. I froze. I couldn’t process, I just prayed the bus to halt.

Another stop.

I dropped off.

I didn’t know how I reached home as that scary hands not only hovered around my body but now it was all over my mind. I went to my mom and shared.

“Ek jhappad haninas?”(Didn’t you give him a tight slap?) My mom groaned.

That was something I had to do, I realized. But, the fact was that the incident left me unprocessed for several days. Even today whenever I happen to see the resemblance of those hands, it disturbs me.

***

Few months back, I received an email from one of my mentees who had to go through similar trauma. A bus conductor groped her chest and she felt helpless. The very incident shook her up for several months. A strange man tore her confidence apart as she felt stripped publicly.

Upon sharing these experiences what we know is, actually, no one gets really shocked to hear that rather they themselves have a similar horrifying story to share.

Yes, the ratio of women being harassed is extremely higher than men, however, we find men sharing similar stories and there must be the case that third genders, too have experienced similar fate.  

A survey by Code for Nepal done in 2016, collected over 1,000 responses, 98 percent of all women said they had been harassed. Besides the streets, 71 percent of respondents of both genders also reported harassment in public transportation. 63 percent said they were subjected to physical harassment of some form, and 20 percent reported sexual harassment.

Several high level talks have been made and some decisions too have been passed. Female only buses are being launched, awareness campaigns are being done, but why is the problem still the same?

Frankly speaking, I also don’t know the answer.

But, what I know is that there are victims who haven’t yet been able to share their horrifying story. As I suffer psychologically even after seven years of the actual incident, they do suffer and bringing them out is important.

When I appealed on social media for other people to share their personal experiences, I received an unexpected flood of messages from women and some men, almost relieved to speak about it. Here, I share some of them.

Anonymous

Picture Credit: pvangels.com

I don’t know if it was intentional or not. The micro was pack. Only last two seats were empty. I went and sat there. There came a guy who was approximately in his mid-30s who came and sat next to me. The micro was on the stand so I had to wait. He started moving his hands around my thighs. At first, I didn’t react because I thought the micro was congested and it wasn’t intentional. But after few minutes, he repeated the same behavior.  This time I pushed him. But the more I pushed him and tried to stand up, the more he was trying to push me to the corner as if he was trying to say “don’t move and stay still and let me enjoy.” I couldn’t take it and pushed his hands hard and walked out of that micro and went home walking. I was mentally disturbed for few days.

Asmita

I have experienced it in several ways; may it be a drunk man smelling my hair or a guy sitting next to me with crossed arms, trying to finger my boobs from side. Sometimes a guy would press himself against me when it’s crowded. The hand grabbing thing while grabbing the rods is soooo common. Because of these reasons I don't like to use public bus. Whenever, my scooty is for servicing, I prefer to walk for an hour rather than board a bus.

Anonymous

I was going to Pune via train. They were five people. They were trying to touch me, drag me into their arms. Err… I still remember that touch and smell of those idiots. It was horrible experience ever. Fortunately, I managed to get out from their grope and ran to the nearby toilet. I hid myself there. I don’t know how long I stayed there. I was in a dilemma on whether to get out of the toilet or not. What if they were outside waiting for me? This question haunted me. After 15 or 20 minutes, I opened the door and found them gone. I rushed to my seat and cried like a hell thinking what I went through. 

Barsha

I have experienced it several times.

I have experienced some deadly lusty look from the top to the bottom of my body- sad part is not just so called rugged guys, but some so called cultured and classy man in their expensive suit. I try to make them stop it with equally angry look.

Once, I was travelling from Balkot to Baneshwor, an aunt, similar to my mother’s age started shouting all of a sudden. She was hitting a guy who was around 30s with her handbag. He was touching her body parts in the crammed bus. After she started shouting that man came out from bus and ran away.

Similarly, once I had to board a packed bus in the evening to return home. A woman in her 30s was sitting next to me with her younger brother. I could see a man placing his hands on her breasts. First I thought it wasn’t intentional as a thought came that he was trying to adjust himself properly. Later, I found him being dirty and wondered why that lady wasn’t speaking anything. I found it odd. I shouted at the lady for what hell was that man doing on a public bus and if he was her relative. The woman replied, “No, he wasn’t.” He then immediately shifted backward.

Sabrina

During the economic blockade, I was going to my office from my home. I took a crowded bus. A man on his 40s was standing behind me. Few minutes later, I found my butt being pressed by his dick. I couldn’t figure out at first if it was happening on purpose. But, after sometime I figured out it as intentional. I was afraid of saying anything and making a scene in case I was mistaken. I just looked at him angrily and he went away from me. I could feel the sensation of his dick on me for hours afterwards. I felt very bad that day. I reached my office and shared it with some of my friends and later regretted of not shouting at him.

Anonymous

I was sexually harassed in public vehicle during the economic blockade when the buses used to be very crowded. This man who sexually harassed me at first offered me his seat. Thinking he was a nice guy, I took his seat but after few minutes I began to notice that he was rubbing his penis on my shoulder. I went numb not knowing what to do. My mom always used to ask me not to respond if any men teased me. She was afraid as those days the news of acid attack was very common. So, I kept dozing off my shoulder but I could bear it no more. So I spoke to an aunt next to mine if I could exchange seat with her as she was sitting by the window. She agreed and to my surprise this man got out of the bus as soon as I exchanged my seat. For me till this date whenever I remember that moment, I feel sick and for this I prefer to walk rather than take a crowded vehicle.

***

It’s not just that females have to go through this doleful situation. Even males have to and I am thankful to this man who shared his story with me. However he chose to be anonymous.

Anonymous

I was travelling from Bhadrapur to Itahari. I had to share my seat with an aged man. We started to have some casual talks. It started with a general introduction and then the stuffs from the place we belong and so on but gradually he started asking me about my personal issues related with relationship and sex. The situation got worse when he started touching my private parts. I became nervous and got paralyzed. I couldn’t act anything against him or even say him any words. I felt extremely bad the whole time. After all that he shamelessly dared to ask my phone number so that he could come to my home, which I refused to give.

***

These experiences of harassment are so bad that in many of the cases, triggers a lot of anxiety. It can render even the most confident of us helpless. Many of the times, we feel extreme urge of slapping them for their crime and feel guilty of not daring to do that. Reprimanding is a far cry, we can't even share with any other person what we went through. I used to do the same. But what I have realized is we must dare then and there.

Recently, I again had to go through a similar situation while travelling to my workplace early in the morning. This time, I followed what my mother had instructed me to do seven years back whenever I am caught up in similar situation.

Yes, I gave him a tight slap which he deserved. I felt like I slapped not only him but also my own psychological fear that I had been living for last seven years. I slapped the anxiety that deters my confidence.

This time when I dropped off the bus, I felt good. Very good.

May all the perverts who are out there to quench their sexual thirst in a public transit get a tight slap so that their demonic soul may die then and there. We wish to see them behaving as a human the next time we encounter.