#her eyes are like native nepali people's

[orgasming-caterpillar]

Bro this lady is so beautiful

[ecsorrell]

‘Disposable Bodies’ Units 4 & 5

Throughout units 4 and 5 of GWS 302, our class analyzed the interconnections between the development of capitalism, imperialism, and the ways in which migrant bodies and lower-class identities are able to move throughout the world. To begin, we collectively analyzed the work of Millian Kang, “The Managed Hand: The Commercialization of Bodies and Emotions in Korean-Immigrant Owned Nail Salons”. As highlighted in Kang’s text, nail salon workers suffer from numerous health issues, including asthma-like respiratory problems, painful skin lesions, miscarriages, birth defects, and cancer. Ki Ok Chung, a woman who’d worked as a manicurist for nearly twenty years, suffered from the wearing away of her fingerprints from constant work with toxin-filled salon products (Nir, 2015). The fading of fingerprints isn’t rare among individuals working in nail salons, many of whom are often of Asian demographic. Taking identity into account, Asian nail salon workers facing racism in the workplace are subject to several anxieties; In certain places of work where employee surveillance is more extensive, fingerprint scanning is a method of clocking in. “As critical data scholars have revealed, biometric fingerprint scanners are also prone to ‘demographic failures,’ regularly failing to scan prints of elderly people, Asian women, people who work in manual or clerical industries, or people whose fingers are too large [too be detected] (Browne, 2015; Magnet, 2011). Scanners are thus neither ‘rock solid’ nor objective.” (Van Oort, 2018). For people who have been born into the nail salon industry, having worked with so many chemicals over so many years, raises the concern of the fingerprint scanner potentially failing to detect one’s prints. Other anxieties Asian bodies are subject to stem from racism, often an issue for Asians and non-white individuals in the workplace setting (from customers, bosses, coworkers, etc.), who want to avoid falling under stereotypes and prejudices. This racism is tied to the extensive surveillance among bodies (often marginalized) working in job positions that are societally considered “lower class”. The “less worthy”, “less human” (aka “less white”, “less able”, etc.) bodies are intentionally managed and taken advantage of in a way that subjects them to harm. As expressed by a nail salon worker in Millian Kang’s study, “Three years ago we didn’t give a lot of massages but now customers ask more and more. It makes me weak and really tired...I guess because I don’t have the right training to do it in a way that doesn’t tire my body. Some manicurists give massages all the time to get tips, but sometimes I don’t even ask them if I’m tired. Owners keep asking you to ask them, but on days I’m not feeling well, I don’t ask...One of my biggest fears working in the salon is, what if I don’t understand what the customer is saying? They don’t really talk in detail, just say, “how is the weather”. But in order to have a deeper relationship, I need to get past that and to improve my English. It makes it very stressful.” (Kang, 2003). Whether it be the subjection to stress from societal expectations or the life-threatening side effects of working in such conditions, marginalized bodies are at risk in the workplace.  

And it isn’t specific to nail salons.  

We also see this issue in factory farms, such as Case Farms in Canton, Ohio, not too far from here. “As the company fights the fines, it finds new ways to keep labor costs down. For a time, after the Guatemalan workers began to organize, Case Farms recruited Burmese refugees. Then it turned to ethnic Nepalis expelled from Bhutan, who today make up nearly 35 percent of the company’s employees in Ohio. “It’s an industry that targets the most vulnerable group of workers and brings them in,” Debbie Berkowitz, OSHA’s former senior policy adviser, told me. ‘And when one group gets too powerful and stands up for their rights they figure out who’s even more vulnerable and move them in.’” (Grabell, 2017). Factory farm workers are at risk for some of the most harmful mental and physical health issues in the realm of careers, ranging from loss of limbs, bone fractures, death, PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Unsurprisingly, considering the nature of the job market, “OSHA later found that Case Farms often made workers wait months to see a doctor, flouted restrictions and fired injured workers who couldn’t do their job.” (Grabell, 2017).  

We see similar outcomes for temp workers. “From mega-retailers to mom-and-pop shops, temps are hired to do some of the hardest and most dangerous jobs. While more and more of the American workforce is comprised of temporary workers, they're largely hidden from public view.” (VICE News, 2014). In the VICE video, "Permanently Temporary: The Truth About Temp Labor”, viewers share a heartbreaking moment with Isaura Martinez, a woman who left her family in Mexico to come to America, as she reflects on her experiences since immigrating. With tearful eyes and a chilling sense of sorrow in her voice, Martinez tells Vice interviewers that she came to the states with a lot of hope, but often experiences regret as she has “received a lot of abuse here [America]”. She opened up about her sexual assault, which occurred as she was being driven to work by a raitero. She explained how the issue of sexual violence is common for temp workers commuting to factories through the service of raiteros---often the only feasible option of getting to work for these people given the circumstances. This disturbing reality has historical baggage; From the trafficking and enslavement of African natives to the indentured labor from India and other Asian countries into Europe, capitalist, white supremacist, patriarchal values have fueled “the European colonization of much of the planet” (Lewis, 2014), which is directly related to the threatened position migrant workers are currently in. It’s also evident that the demand for cheap migrant labor is ever-growing; “Migrants, especially new arrivals, are seen as being harder workers, more loyal and reliable, and prepared to work longer hours due to their lack of choice and the large volume of available labour at the low end of the labour market (MacKenzie and Forde, 2009). This therefore intensifies competition and offers employers the pick of the ‘best’ migrant workers.” (Lewis, 2014).  

It’s also key to recognize the treacherous journey immigrants must endure to get to America; Considering the implications of climate change, this already dangerous journey becomes even more deathly. From scorching heat that burns your skin to an unforgiving geography of jagged vegetation, the U.S. Mexico border in Southern Arizona is an atmospheric war zone. “To stand in the summer sun on Organ Pipe and contemplate the long walk north invites some startling realizations. One: Despite the heat and the militarization, generations of people have somehow survived this seemingly impossible journey. Two: No one is going to undertake such a journey without a deep motivating desire to move. And three: All of these factors — human migration, the desert’s capacity to kill, and the hardening of the American border security apparatus — are on a path to historic intensification in the coming years.” (Devereaux, 2019). “Right now there are construction crews at work on Organ Pipe, pumping water from a rare desert aquifer to mix concrete for Donald Trump’s long-promised border wall. The survival of a fragile and unique desert ecosystem hangs in the balance.” (Devereaux, 2019). Laiken Jordahl, former employee of the U.S. National Park Service at Organ Pipe and current borderlands campaigner for the Center for Biological Diversity, described the situation as an “all-out attack” ... “It’s unbelievable. This would never be conceivable if normal environmental laws were in place.” says Jordahl (Devereaux, 2019).  

While it is unfortunately not surprising the effects Trump’s presidency has had on immigration and our country’s attitude towards it, we mustn't be oblivious to the history of said attitudes. We mustn’t forget the agony that has been put onto native bodies and native land for centuries, we mustn’t shy away from our own role in that. We mustn’t ignore the current traumas imposed onto marginalized bodies in all too familiar ways, parallels from early white colonization oozing into modern day situations. Certain bodies have been historically valued, while others have been deemed disposable. It is the responsibility of those who are privileged to recognize this, accept this, and use their voices to fight this.  

As a white person, this responsibility falls on me, as well as many of you reading this. Use your voice in any way you can. Dismantle the system, burn it to the fucking ground.  

References  

Madison Van Oort. 2018. “The Emotional Labor of Surveillance: Digital Control in Fast Fashion Retail.” Critical Sociology 00 (0): 1-13

"Permanently Temporary: The Truth About Temp Labor,” VICE.

Miliann Kang. 2003. “The Managed Hand: The Commercialization of Bodies and Emotions in Korean-Immigrant Owned Nail Salons.” Gender and Society 17 (6): 820-839.

Sarah Maslin Nir, “Perfect Nails, Poisoned Workers,” The New York Times

Michael Grabell, ProPublica, “Sold for Parts”.

Hannah Lewis, et al. 2014. “Hyper-precarious Lives: Migrants, Work, and Forced Labor in the Global North.” Progress in Human Geography. 1-21.

Ryan Devereaux, "Mining the Future: Climate Change, Migration, and Militarization in Arizona's Borderlands".

[devotionalfigureofganesh]

April 20 - Transcript

I found writing the actual transcript to be surprisingly difficult. I had a hard time not making it sound too much like a stiff, formal essay and instead giving it a tone more relaxed than what I am used to writing. I also had a hard time organizing my research. I found that there were a few sections, such as the part about devotional practices, I had a hard time placing smoothly into the rest of the transcript. I had to do and redo my outline a few times. 

Another issue occurred when I went over the time limit only about halfway into my transcript. I really had to prioritize my research, and unfortunately had to let go of a lot of my information about modern figures and devotion, which I was planning on including in my essay. I wanted to include a part about the ‘orientalizing eye of the west’ and western consumerism of these objects much more in the finished transcript than I ended up being able to include. However, I am still pleased with the final product and am very much looking forward to putting it together. Here is a copy of my transcript:

My object of desire is a cast bronze figure of Ganesh. This is a devotional figure crafted by the Newar people in the Kathmandu Valley of Nepal in the 18th or 19th century, using the lost-wax method of bronze casting. It is nearly 11 inches tall and 8 1/2 inches wide, with a depth of 2 inches. There is also a separate wooden stand, carved in the shape of a lotus, which was made much later to display the figure. 

Ganesh is worshipped as the elephant-headed God of wisdom and prosperity. He is known as the ‘Remover of Obstacles’, and is often invoked before beginning anything, and is thus traditionally the first God honored in rituals. Ganesh is a very popular deity amongst the belief systems of South Asia. He holds a place in Buddhism, Hinduism, and Jainism. Nepal has always been a stronghold of Hinduism, including when this figure was made. 

A figure such as this is not regarded to itself be the God, but rather an embodiment or manifestation of him. As such, it is not an idol. In Hinduism, a votive figure placed in a temple or home is called a ‘murti’. A clear mental visualization of the God plays an important role in both Hindu and Buddhist devotion of these figures. This is particularly true of Buddhism, where such objects act as spiritual guides to direct prayer. This is also a key part of Hindu votive worship, though Hindus also often adorn the figures and make offerings, such offerings are often particular to the deity. When honoring Ganesh, sweet treats such as modak and laddu are often prepared for the God. He is also commonly adorned with sweet smelling flowers, such as hibiscus and marigolds, and erukku garlands, a flower native to India. Burning sweetly scented incense is another orthodox offering to Ganesh. Some sects of Buddhism participate in this more than others. Tibetan buddhism is widespread in Nepal, and practice ritual offerings of food, water, incense, and flowers to votive figures. Meditation and mental cultivation also rely upon focusing one’s mind on a single object, often a figure such as this. This particular devotional figure, due to the hooks on the back, would have likely been hung on a wall in a temple or home. The added lotus stand would have later allowed it to sit on a surface. 

Lord Ganesh has 32 forms, all with particular iconographies. The form of Ganesh this object depicts is ‘Heramba Ganapathi’. This is one of his most popular forms, particularly in Nepal. He has five heads, four pointing in the cardinal directions and one on top, looking upwards. Heramba Ganapati is known as the ‘Protector of the Weak’.

As reflected in this figure, Heramba Ganapati has ten arms holding various symbolic objects associated with this form. His uppermost right hand holds an akshamālā, a Buddhist rosary. The hand under this holds a three-headed mudgara, a type of mallet common in Tibetan Buddhism, and an object often specific to Heramba Ganapati. Here, Ganesh holds mōdaka, a traditional sweet said to be his favorite and a common offering. It represents the sweet things in life. His lower most right hand is in varada mudra; a gesture indicating generosity. 

On his left side, his uppermost hand holds a parasú (parashu). This is a battle-axe, an orthodox attribute of the Heramba Ganapati form, symbolic of cutting through obstacles and severing the bonds of attachment. The next holds a lotus flower, symbolic of enlightenment. Another object indicative of Heramba Ganapati is pāśa (pasha), or rope, emblematic of pulling oneself closer to one’s goals. His lowest left hand is in abhaya mudra, a gesture of protection and fearlessness. 

His central left hand cuddles the female figure by his side. His center right hand holds his broken tusk, called danta. The story behind Ganesh’s broken tusk also links to the snake typically seen around his waist. It follows the ancient legend that one evening after a feast, Ganesh’s stomach exploded after overeating. He broke off a piece of his tusk and threw it at the moon, who was mocking him. Ganesh picked up a snake and tied it around his waist to hold his stomach together. These have become key elements of Ganesh’s traditional iconography, in any of his forms.

Ganesh is often shown with an animal vehicle, or vahana. Heramba Ganapati is depicted with either a lion mount or Dinka, his usual rat. This figure sees Ganesh with two rats underfoot as his vahana. Rats are symbolic of uncontrolled ego and desires, and here Ganesh is shown as being in control of the ego, lending the message that desires ought to be kept in check.

Ganesh is seen accompanied by a female figure. The Oriental Museum lists her identity as Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess of wealth and adoptive mother of Ganesh. However, I believe that this is not a goddess at all, but one of Ganesh’s consorts. Other representations of Heramba Ganapati often depict him with a single consort. I have not encountered any instances of Lakshmi accompanying this form of Ganesh. The figure also does not follow Lakshmi’s traditional iconography, which nearly always depicts her holding a lotus. Here, the consort’s hands are in varada mudra and abhaya mudra, mirroring those of Ganesh. 

This object, due to the intricacy and detail, can likely be attributed as a work of the Newar people of Nepal. These are the original inhabitants of the Kathmandu valley. The Newars are known for their domination of Nepali artistic culture and production. Newars practice both Hinduism and Buddhism, so assuming this figure is a Newari creation, it would have been intended for worship by both Hindus and Buddhists. 

The object consists of six separate bronze parts, which are fitted to each other by wire or inserted into designed holes. The separate sections of the piece, in addition to the popularity of the method among Newar artisans, reveal that it was created using the lost-wax method of bronze casting. This method has been used in South Asia for thousands of years, and Newar craftsmen helped diffuse this technique more widely. The first step is the creation of a wax model, which may be very finely detailed. A clay mold is fashioned around the wax model which, when heated, retains its shape while the wax melts out. Bronze is then poured into the clay mold. When cooled, the clay mold is broken to reveal a bronze sculpture. The figure of Ganesh was made through repeating this process six times for six separate pieces, as this allowed for a greater intricacy of detail.

  Ganesh and his consort are not the only features of this object. The complex decoration around the two figures reveal plant motifs, birds, flowers, snakes, and other creatures. At the center of the sculptural figure, just above the head of Ganesh, is Garuda. This is a bird creature which features in both Hinduism and Buddhism. Garuda is the vahana of Lord Vishnu, and they are commonly depicted together. Garuda is also a protective deity, particularly against snakes. He is the legendary enemy of the naga serpents, half human and half snake. In this figure, Garuda is seen clutching in his talons the snake tails of the two Naga women on either side of him. 

There is also a harvest motif present throughout this object. The outermost bronze pointed oval sees a repetition of corn and corn sheaves, alongside plants and birds. There are also two monkeys by the feet of Ganesh presenting corn to the elephant-headed God. The amount of harvest iconography raises the possibility of this as a harvest icon. This is furthered by Ganesh’s position as God of fertility and prosperity, and his particular form here as ‘Protector of the Weak’, as well as the unusual pairing of Garuda and Ganesh. This figure could have been produced for use by farmers, who would pray to Ganesh to protect them and remove obstacles to a prosperous harvest. 

The West has held a long standing fascination with these figures. A trend of western collecting is evidenced in the acquisition of this specific figure. It was purchased by collector Colonel A. H. Burn and brought back to the United Kingdom as part of a wider collection of south asian figures. This object stands out from the rest of Colonel Burn’s collection The rest are largely carved schist, or another rock material, and are from India, of the earlier Gandhara period. Given such divergence from the rest of the collection, one wonders what drove Colonel Burn to Nepal, and what attracted him to this object in particular. Perhaps its beauty spoke to him as well, also becoming his object of desire.

[wanderlust-journal]

Triten Norbutse Bön Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal. (July 2018)

I am at a mediocre hotel that advertises services and rooms that they clearly do not actually have. The hotel is in Thamel, in the busy backpacker neighborhood Thamel. I order an early breakfast called East meets West, and it comes with rice, potatoes, scrambled eggs, and sliced banana, and a weak cappuccino. It’s the rainy season, so the only other person staying at the guest house is a Peace Corps volunteer with a chronic Nepal cough is writing in his journal under the tin roof of the outdoor restaurant. A kitten with no name plays with a string that hangs off my bag. The air is heavy but clearer than usual because of last night’s rain, but by evening Kathmandu will be a pollution storm, the masks will come out, and people will hold hands crossing the streets as they squint and dance between buses and honking taxis.

I think I can see the Triten Norbutse Bön Buddhist Temple tucked on the side of a mountain from my corner room, but there are other temples and buildings with water containers on the rooftops in the way. I was trying not to have expectations about visiting this special Tibetan temple of magic and mystery. I showed a picture of the temple from Google images and then a map to the cab driver. I pointed it out on the hillside. He said he didn’t know it but would try.

We drove past Swayambhunath, the monkey temple, and I remembered walking there along this same colorful and hectic route with my Thai ex-husband Suthin during our last trip eight years before. We had left our sleepy teen at the hotel and walked the 40 minutes to get there, through narrow streets with food vendors in their shops calling out to us as we went. We giggled at the names of the shops, like “You Beauty Salon,” and the funny drawings of Western foods such as hot dogs, pancakes, and espresso, in the smudged and opaque windows. The car horns and busy traffic in the street made it hard to talk and hear, so Suthin paused in front of a butcher shop and signed back to me, making faces like the dead pigs, and pointing at the dead goats splayed out like a biology lab frog mid-dissection. Suthin asked me if I wanted anything at the bakery, but I knew he was just kidding because he would never have bought the street food there, nervous about the flies and impure water. Suthin wasn’t picky about food in his hometown, where there eat frogs, eels, dried meats and sausages, but he was concerned about hygiene wherever we traveled. He had pointed at the roti sellers and gestured as if he had a spatula in his hand, flipping the crispy treats covered in evaporated milk and butter. It was a mild and sunny Kathmandu day in February, and we took our time— there were no proper sidewalks and the store fronts were a mangle of steps, cracks, and ramps dripping with water of unknown origins. Suthin had walked ahead of me and then given me his hand when we reached anything slimy, rocky, or difficult to navigate. We had dodged workmen with heavy loads on their heads and narrowly missed a cart carrying a large mirror.  We had crossed the street to avoid a drunk who was having a fight with a garbage can. We were startled by how quickly the taxi cabs drove by and how close they came to our bodies. Suthin sent a toddler in pigtails back inside the open front of her house. The child’s mother had thanked him in Nepali while he explained to her in Thai that he was nervous, and then we went on our way.

Now that Suthin is dead, I remember our last trip so vividly. At the steps up to Swayambu, a woman statue vendor had called to us. “Come, Look. I have Shiva. I have Buddha.” Suthin had smiled and mimicked her to me, “I have Shiva.” Suthin had stopped to talk with her about Shiva— both of them using a combination of their broken English and native languages, and laughing. The steps up the hill were steep, uneven, and gritty.  As usual, Suthin was my spotter. Both out of shape, we had breathed heavily. Towards the top, there was an entry point that charged admission only to foreigners, and I had taken out enough money for two from a zippered pocket in my bag.  Then Suthin casually walked by the Admissions gate without causing any of the three guards to blink and avoiding the $3 charge. For Suthin, this place was holy and he wanted to make merit, to build up good karma for the judgment day. He also wanted to take a picture of this famous and auspicious place to show to the abbot of the temple where he stayed back in Thailand. I, on the other hand, mostly wanted a picture for my Facebook profile. We couldn’t see the screen well because of the bright sun. There at one of the most spiritual places in the valley, and the world, we checked and rechecked my one-inch viewfinder to see the neverending series of pictures of ourselves. But it is now eight years later, and I am in Nepal on my own. Suthin would have loved this trip. I dodge questions about why he didn’t come and then reluctantly tell people he is dead, and then they think I am a widow.

Today, I am driving up another hill to arrive at the Bön temple. I ask the driver if he has time to wait for me. Ramesh says, “No problem. However much time it takes you is how much time I have.”

There is a tall, decorated entryway over the stairs that lead up to the heavens. I see a man wearing a maroon down vest and try to talk, but he rushes into an office and closes the gate behind him. There is a sign hanging lopsided from the gate, but I can’t read it. I go up past a tea shop and a woman says “Namaste” and asks me “how are you?” I tell her it is warm but I am good. She agrees it is warm. I go up further, holding my skirt up so it will not get wet in the shallow, grey puddles on the uneven stone steps. I pass a building that has a left-facing swastika (Bön yungdrung) design on the silver-painted gate. I get up to the main temple building, which is perfectly maintained in maroon and gold. And there is no one there. It could not be quieter. Not a soul. There is no one chanting. There is no one cooking or cleaning. I walk around the courtyard where I have seen videos of monks practicing their dialectic techniques, shouting and clapping their hands together as they make a logical argument. And where the ceremonial mask dances happen to the heavy thump of drums and thighbone trumpets. I see a bald man in maroon looking out from a far upstairs window but he moves behind the rich golden curtain when I catch his eye.

The air is clear from a recent rain and a tourist helicopter is also admiring the view of the golden monkey temple Swayambunath with its “sublime trees.” I see the rooftops of homes of six million people, some of whom have returned home for the rice harvest. Like me, they will return.  Two male workers in straw hats are napping under a tarp by an enormous clump of bamboo. I sit and breathe deeply for a few minutes and head back down. I get to the tea shop, and there is a Bön monk. He’s wearing a maroon tank top and sweatpants, and is fidgeting with the mala beads in his hands. There are five people standing around and talking with him, girls and boys in their early twenties.

“Namaste! How are you?” I say.

“Fine,” one says, and they all look at me for a long time without a word.

“Why it is so quiet?”

“Monks sleeping now,” says a girl, and her friend laughs to hear her speak English. The girl hits her friend on the arm.

“Now breaktime. The best time to come is at 5:00, when the monks are memorizing things.”

“Memorizing things?” I ask.

“Yes, they walk up and down these steps to chant and memorize.” There is a pause. There is always a pause in Nepali conversations.

“Ok. I will come back another day. Is morning good?”

“No, monks are very busy in morning. Come at evening and you will see monks going here and there and there.”

I have three weeks left in my trip, but I may have already gotten what I was seeking- a window into the Bön Buddhist world. On my own overlooking this earthy and disordered city, and there is no one else here. At least no one who is rushing out to talk to me. Only silence. I have only set eyes upon two Bön monks and neither one had a word to say to me. And it’s all too easy to wrap it up and run back to the taxi, and the hotel’s watery cappuccino with the heart design and the waiter who says, “Sorry today ma’am, not much foam…How were your adventures?”

I take a few more steep steps down, careful not to trip in my wet sandals. There is a young man standing in the tea shop, just a few feet away from me on the step. I can see that he has a tattoo of a question mark on his calf, about 8 inches tall, in fresh indigo. His girlfriend, who is eating noodles laughs at him and then covers her face with her hand. He starts to speak softly, over the distant city sounds of construction and honking. I can’t tell if he is speaking English or Nepali.

“Your tattoo,” I say. “I like it very much.”

“Thank you. See?” he says, “It is a man.”

“What man is that? Do you know him?”

“No. That is just a man. See him? He has a nose, mouth, like that.” He traces the profile with his finger, slowly.

“Is he you?”

“No”.

“Who is he?” I ask.

“He helps me.”

“What does he help you with?”

“I am like this, down, (he leans his head down towards his knee) and then I see him and I am up here, like this.” He raises his chest high.

“Does he protect you?”

“Protect? No. He makes me energy. I feel”….(he breathes in deeply)….

I smile and the girlfriend laughs, snorting and choking on her Coke. At first I think she is making fun of her boyfriend but then I wonder if she might be making fun of me, and by “me”, I mean all foreigners in their dragging and wet Indian skirts, coming to the temple to find something they can’t name and don’t know where or when it is.

“And what about the question mark?” I ask.

“It is like that.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Like it is all out in the open.” (His arms go up and out.)

“What is like that, all out in the open?” I don’t understand.

His eyebrows furrow and there is that long pause that is so common when talking with Nepalis. The girlfriend looks at me, serious for the first time, listening quietly.

“Do you mean life is a question?” I ask.

“Maybe,” he responds, nodding his head side to side in the way South Asians do so you don’t know if the answer means yes or no. “It means Question Man,” he replies finally.

BIO: Kathryn Stam is a professor of cultural anthropology, a mother, a daughter, a writer, and a huge fan of all things Himalayan.

The last two photos:  1. The Flying Horse Nepal comes across as strange and wonderful at first, and continues to do so no matter how many times you visit. This is a horse riding academy that I would not have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes.  2. Stam- Khadka family. The author has been friends with a Nepali family in Dhapakhel, Nepal for over thirty years since she studied abroad there in 1986. This is Pashupatinath Khadka, his wife, and their grandson during a recent trip.

Question Man by Kathryn Stam Triten Norbutse Bön Temple, Kathmandu, Nepal. (July 2018) I am at a mediocre hotel that advertises services and rooms that they clearly do not actually have.

[swapnagangadharan]

It was a beautiful morning and we got determined to leave by 8.30 am. Julia packed cheese sandwiches for the trip. Lyat had spoken to a driver to take us till Dharanaula. After that we could make our own way out.

Lyat mentioned that it was pouring cats and dogs at Dharchula a few days ago which means snow up there in the mountains, he told us to be careful.

We dropped off our excess baggage at Arjun’s office and in an hour’s time we were at Dharanaula. We got off and made our way to the taxi stand. We haggled until we got a cab till Pitthorgarh.

The man Lalit Joshi was really nice as he spoke about his village, his kids. His brother was a Sarpanch in the village below Pitthorgarh. He tried to play some English Electronic music but we made him change it to local songs, we were like, play something that is native here.

He was not as condescending towards Garhwalis like Ajay, our previous driver. He also took us to an awesome breakfast place where we had the best Onion Aloo Parathas, and Paneer Parathas. Yup! Huge delicious Parathas and we washed it down with Strong Chai.

We were passing villages, civilization and sometimes just forests and hills. Kumaon had something about it. Rolling green fields to brown landscapes, the barrenness added a mysticism to it.

Sometimes I felt I was in a different time zone, a bygone era.I wondered how this must have been with the Gora Sahibs during British rule. So wild and untamed..

We started seeing a lot of army wagons and officers, Lalit told us that lot of outposts were here. Indo-Nepal border, Indo-China border. So much of concrete and construction existed because the Army jawans built homes for their families. There was a huge population of Nepalis in Pitthorgarh and Dharchula. We were really surprised that Pitthorgarh was not some small town as we imagined.

After 4+ hours, we got down at Pitthorgarh and started asking around for Shared taxis to Dharachaula. It was 200 Rs per head and at that time we thought we will actually reach Dharachaula by 4 pm, how wrong we were!

Finally a taxi jeep was on its way and we got in. Bhim made me sit in the front with the driver for better leg space and he got a seat in the middle. And here is the thing, until that day I didn’t realise 16 people could fit in one vehicle! Yup 16! We were squashed with people.

There were 5 people in the driver’s seat including me and Bhim was getting squashed with at least 5 people in the middle! And the back seat had 6-7 people!

How we managed, we don’t know, but yeah we were laughing looking at our condition. It was an adventure. The driver Raju would stop every 5 minutes and I truly mean every 5 minutes! To greet someone, to chat with someone in the middle of the road mind you! We would keep looking at the watch but No Sir, an hour gone by and we were still meandering around Dharchula.

What do you do at that time? We did what travelers do, we sat back(whatever little space we had) and went with the flow. The Mountains were teaching us, Patience my dear Patience, you got to have patience, no point in fretting and fussing, let it be. You have to earn it.

You will reach when you have to reach. The Pahadis were teaching us that nothing goes according to our mechanical set clock time, it’s their time and they will go at their own pace. So we enjoyed the journey.

The only woman next to me in the front seat was Ira Devi, having one of the most beautiful smiles and a pretty red Bindi. Her eyes twinkled! I started chatting with her and she was very friendly.

She was Nepali in origin but brought up here. She was visiting her sister in Dharchula. Her husband worked in Gujarat, while her older son was a CA and married, he was currently in Chennai. Her younger son was studying in Delhi.

When I asked her doesn’t she feel alone with no family living with her? It might be very tough. She said kya kare, kaam ke liye to jaana padta hai na? Humen koi takleef nahin hai, yaha apne gai bakri ko dekthi hoon, bas yahi kaafi hai. (What to do, you got to work. I don’t have any problem, I am happy taking care of the livestock) She was so content I tell you. She had a radiance about her.

Our driver Raju was continuing his socializing along with driving us. He would stop if any of the passengers wanted to eat or any small thing. He actually stopped at a sweet shop and told Ira Devi Aapko mithai kareedni hai na? He didn’t bat an eyelid when she took a full 20-25 minutes. And the number of people that would get in and get off was hilarious. It was already past 4 pm and we were nowhere near Dharchula.

He would play Hindi/Kumaoni songs and Bhim and I would be tapping to it, we were able to squeeze in a tiny nap too among the squashy tight passengers 🙂

We were getting used to this. At one point there was a lady with a cute tiny  girl of maybe 5 years with an even tinier cute puppy in her hand as they got in next to Bhim. My heart just melted seeing this.

The mother sensing it told me to hold the cuddly squishy puppy and the girl started saying Mera Kutta! The mother told her I was just holding the puppy and I will give it back. I reassured her and held the pupper until we reached Dharchula. The whole scene was surreal and Bhim and myself were thoroughly enjoying ourselves. It had been a whole day of travel and it was almost 7 pm but our spirits were high!

Finally at 7 pm we reached the guest house at Dharchula. Our driver Raju extended a 4+ hour ride to another 3 hours. We looked around and realized we were the only freaking tourists in town. No one, absolutely no outsiders/ tourists, only locals.

There was a room available in the guest house and when we told our plans to the Manager that we wanted to go as far as the last road towards Panchachauli, he said the road stops at a certain point near a river and he will check out which one.

That done, we relaxed and had some dinner. We still had no idea which village to go to, and where to exactly and that was the fun part. All we wanted was to explore and go further up towards the mountains, however it may be.

The Manager came back with some info. He said most of the villagers hadn’t yet returned to their villages! It was empty! We were like what?? Yup folks, all the village folks come down to Dharchula with their families and livestock for the winter and move back sometime in mid April!

So when Bhim and I had planned a trip here, we read an article that said Season opens from April, we literally took it as 1st of April! We were two silly South Indians I tell you!

We burst out laughing! So we would literally be the first ones to go to those villages even before the villagers?? Surely there might be someone up there! The Manager again found out and optimistically said 2 families went up to the mountains 3-4 days ago, maybe we will find someone up there?

It goes without saying what we decided to do, villagers or no villagers. We had our sleeping bags, we had certain food stuff and basic ration and there was always water sources for water, what else did we need? Usually in those villages, there would be an open dhaba shelter with no doors, we could sleep there so what’s stopping us?

It was pretty easy with Bhim, he was as open and adventurous. We didn’t come all the way up here just to go back!

So tomorrow morning we would set off, the only question was how? The rides hadn’t yet started, no vehicles going that side, no people on that route, how were we gonna manage this tomorrow?

  The Road Less Travelled – Part XI It was a beautiful morning and we got determined to leave by 8.30 am. Julia packed cheese sandwiches for the trip.