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 There was a time when I’d wake up with Radio Nepal's signature tune at 6 am. These days, an alarm on my phone tries to rouse me, which I ‘snooze’ or ‘dismiss’. Before getting up, there are people like me who go to their social media accounts to see what happened in the world while they slept. And there are those who go to bathrooms carrying their cell phones and spend a little extra time while they do their chores. We show off what we ate on a Friday night, what lipstick or watch we wore, how much we ran, what gave us chills, where we went on vacations, the expen­sive gifts we gave or received. We tirelessly comment about politi­cians. We have a desire to become the extraordinary. If we support a person whose house has been swept away by floods, we pose with them handing a blanket and looking like the most generous and sensitive person on earth. But we also constantly fear being judged. If everyone is posting a picture of celebrating Teej and we don’t, ‘maybe we're not cultural enough.’ If we don't post on our wedding anniversary, people might think we have ‘troubled relation.’ Our thought process has been deeply affected by the world that we see through a small handheld screen.

There are around 80 million users (including myself ) of Face­book in Nepal who spend most of their times either chatting, brows­ing, liking, or commenting. Take a look at your family—do they spend more of their home-time or fam­ily-time using the little machines than on the little ones who are probably learning new words, or old ones with sickness who yearn for care, or the spouse seeking bonding time? If they do, your relationships have become less important than the online world!

But no, I don't mean that there are only addicted people. There are in fact conscious people who make an effort to stay away from social media, who prefer to make their minds agile by thinking, con­templating, and analyzing—without using the phone. But the popula­tion of the opposite is higher, who when they need to think, prefer assisted thinking, using Google’s Help for questions like ‘am I rude?' or ‘why men/women behave like that?’ I had a habit of maintaining a diary/journal. I wrote on and off for more than 10 years but ever since the mobile phones entered my life, my frequency went down and now, it’s a thing of the past.

Technological advancement is no doubt beneficial. News trav­eling across the globe in a fraction of second or getting close to your loved ones through free video calls are everyday highlights. But there are relationships that have died because of social media. We have been enslaved by these devices to the extent that we forget that there is a real world where people need to talk, feel, understand, and respond in person. And the more we are hooked consciously, the more dangerous it is.

My mom had been hospital­ized and the doctors said she needed to insert a fistula in case dialysis was urgently needed. I went to the pharmacist with the pre­scription for the fistula set. And the set included, among other things, four pairs of surgical gloves. Gloves? I couldn’t believe it! Never had it occurred to me that gloves, which doctors use all the time, needed to be sponsored by the patients. I asked the pharmacist if it was really required and he said the set con­tained all those items. I got angry and told the nurse in attendance to pass my message to the doctors that I was ready to donate masks and caps too. Aren’t gloves primary items needed for medical persons (although I hardly see nurses wearing them) when attending any patient?

Talking about ‘taking care of the patients’—sometimes I wonder if we go to hospital to be treated or to be infected. I had gone for my prenatal checkup in one famous hospital in Kathmandu. The toilets around the gynecological depart­ment were awful. First, the com­mode was not clean; the seats were all dirty. I looked for toilet papers to wipe the seat. There was none. And then I realized there was no trash can either. Even government schools in Nepal, however poor they may be, keep trash cans in girls’ toilets. I wondered how women could visit such hospitals during their periods. I got out of the toilet to wash my hands, and there was no soap either.

Once, I had gone to see a gyne­cologist at her private clinic in Kath­mandu. I was advised to get a urine test. When I entered the toilet, there was hardly a spot where I could plant my feet without letting them get extra wet. It was a clinic run by a woman who has children. She could be sensitive to other women’s needs. But nope, she did not care about the cramped waiting area or about the money that she would happily keep in her purse, without giving a receipt. Tax evasion you know! But who lets this apathy go unchecked?

I was once hospitalized in the US. After spending three nights, I was discharged. A couple of days later, I got a phone call from the hospital. It was a phone survey on how the hospital took care of me. I was asked questions like: Did the nurse sanitize their hands before attending to you? Did they put on fresh gloves? Did you like the food you were given? Did they change bed sheets?

Yes, it might be too much for us in Nepal to expect these services avail­able in developed countries. But on second thought, why not? Following a good global practice, and one that does not cost much, shouldn’t be a big deal.

Private hospitals in Nepal are expensive and there is no effec­tive insurance system in place. As a result the majority of the costs need to be borne by the patients themselves. Yes, there have been a few progressive chang­es (made by the government) such as provision of free dialysis but charging patients for basic hospital supplies like gloves—which are in fact vital for the attendants’ health too—is simply immoral!

They called him mad. They called him a scapegoat. They said it was irrational to go on a hunger strike when there was a people-elected government. He had learnt his lesson; he did not want to be fooled again. He was a pro­tagonist, a nonconformist, and a headstrong doctor to bring reforms in the medical sector—which is why he earned different names and received unlikely comments. Former Prime Minister and chair of the party that led the 10-year-armed struggle, Prachanda, said Dr KC’s work was to just be on hunger strikes. He, who had chosen the armed battle, did not realize that Dr KC was on a mission just like him. But he chose to carry arms and take lives while Dr KC hurt himself to save the lives of others.

He suggested that Dr KC had been used as a scapegoat by Nepali Con­gress, unfortunately forgetting that in the armed struggle he led, thou­sands of people were forced to give up their lives and families, for the cause he thought was right. Did Prachanda or anyone involved in the armed struggle or KP Oli for that matter—who said the protests were done at leisure times—evert go on a hunger strike of this intensity?

Those who said there were legal ways to address the problem forgot that the Second People’s Movement that made Nepal a republic was also against the then constitution. Still people came together, irrespective of their differing political ideologies. Much the same way, people came out on streets to support Dr KC. This comparison was hardly made. It was forgotten that doctors had revolted then as well, although halting medical services isn’t right either. However, supporting Dr KC were not just fellow doctors but people from all walks of life, making it a people’s movement.

Social media was abuzz with hashtags like #IamwithDrKC, #saveDrKC, #BackOffMedicalEdu­cationBill, #saveIOM; about a dozen Facebook pages like Solidarity for Prof Govinda KC (followed by more than 30k people), Save IOM, Save Dr Govinda KC (17k followers); and online petitions. Protests were spontaneous and took place in all major cities. Surely not liking these movements, the government gave directives to use force and medical officers were beaten in Karnali while several others from different fields were injured or arrested in Kath­mandu. These made national and international headlines.

The protesters, just like in 2006, dreamt of a better Nepal—this time through reforms in medical edu­cation and health care that would bring cheap and reliable health­care to all Nepalis. After pressure mounted on the government, it had to address the demands.

Apart from restricting new pri­vate medical colleges in Kathmandu for 10 years, the nine-point agree­ment will allow talented students to become doctors. Mammoth fees still make it a distant dream for them. Those who study with full scholarship will need to serve in rural areas. This could mean that the remotest parts of the country, which often do not have doctors, would get medical facilities. If all the province had at least one good medical college, as has been agreed, there wouldn’t be the need to spend extra money to avail the services in Kathmandu. One man’s peaceful madness could bring better days for the entire nation.

Monsoon never comes to Nepal as a surprise. But people in the Tarai have to live in con­stant fear that their houses and prop­erties could be swept away. Those in the hilly regions hope they are not buried in landslides. This leads to my question: where is the preparation for this season? As per the National Emergen­cy Operations Center, 361 people have died in the past three months (Baishakh 1-Ashar 30, 2075): 218 from drowning, 25 from floods, 19 from landslides, and the rest in other disasters. A total of 1,660 houses have been completely or partially destroyed in these three months. In Bhaktapur alone, three people died.

The government mobilized rafts, cranes, and helicopters in Bhakta­pur and Kavrepalanchowk to rescue people and pledged to compensate affected families. But that compensa­tion can never bring back the lives of the deceased. Timely preparations could have prevented the casualties.

The monsoon rains are vital for the nature to recharge, to support agriculture, but they can also cre­ate havoc. After the unexpected floods in Bhaktapur, people started talking about encroachment of the rivers. But cleaning the riverbeds wasn’t talked about much. At oth­er times, sewage, trash and some water flow on the riverbeds. And as the monsoon brings torrential rains, the riverbeds cannot keep up with the flow and the water goes in unexpected directions. Case of Bhaktapur! No preparation for the monsoon season.

We, nevertheless, see solid prepa­ration whenever our prime ministers visit India and China, which are man­datory for every incoming govern­ment—size of the delegation, issues to raise, whom to meet, what to see, the likely agreements, the responses for the press, they are all planned. Often these visits are fruitless. But there no planning to deal with the potentially deadly monsoon.

Sharing information of rising water levels is not enough. There should be mechanisms to move the people in disaster-prone areas to safer places if an emergency hits. Instead, we hear instructions given to fill the potholes. We want more than that. We need convincing examples of what the government will do to pre­vent monsoon disaster—number of bridges and roads fixed, number of riverbeds cleaned, number of emer­gency stockpiles.

A meeting was reportedly held under the Home Minister on July 12 to discuss potential dangers of the ongoing monsoon. How early is that? And if you read the outcomes of the meeting, it’s more for the heck of a response rather than about preparedness.

It is also unfortunate that we, the people, do not put enough pressure on the government on these vital issues. We hardly come out on the streets demanding our right to live in safety. Venting out frustrations through writings like these can nev­er make an impact, but a strong will of a ruling government could. The “response” side of the govern­ment is visible and commendable but the preparation side must be made much stronger, which would not only be cost-effective but also people-sensitive.

It was nearly three years ago when a young girl of around seven approached me in Manohara Khola of Bhaktapur to ask what reli­gion I followed. I was totally sur­prised by her question as religion seemingly meant so much to her even at her tender age. I answered ‘Hindu’ and then she said: ‘Hin­dus are Shaitaan (Satan)’. I couldn’t believe her response. Not because I was offended but because of what she had been taught.I am a Hindu by birth and by descent. It’s not something that I chose to follow but even if I had to choose a religion—at a mature age—I wouldn’t probably choose any. I hardly go to a temple. I don’t really do any puja. (Recently the only pujas I have done are on my sons’ birthdays when I call a priest at home to do the rituals for them.) I used a guide at Pashupatinath Temple when I was in my mid 20s, when I went alone to the famous temple in Kathmandu city where I grew up. I don’t know if the gods have ever punished me for being a near-atheist.

The little girl’s question and response time and again inter­rupt my thoughts, to this day. How important is religion anyway and your faith in it? How much does it guide you in today’s world, and help you stay away from wrongdoings? Is it your mind that tells you to dis­tinguish between the good and the bad or should you follow religious texts as your life’s pathfinder? From what I have understood, religions help people respect nature and its inhabitants and do no harm to any creature. But if it is so, why do fol­lowers of one religion talk evil of others, promote hatred, and even take their lives?

All the major religions of the world are in tension with each other because of how religions have been understood or interpreted by their leaders. As a student of international affairs, I have studied ‘terrorism in the name of religion’ and it seems that every religion finds a way to misinterpret its certain texts and then convince a mass to justify their wrongdoings. The Indo-Pakistan divide between Hindu and Muslims, never-ending feuds between Jews and Christians of Israel and Pales­tine, and the more recent discord in Myanmar between Buddhists and Muslims are some examples of religious intolerance.

If all the gods spoke of love, then why do their followers under­stand it differently? Should abor­tion be considered a reproductive right or a God’s gift? Should women be kept away from kitchens during their menstruation? Are sons needed for parents to go to heaven? Can men marry as many women as they want? I say killing animals should be banned but for the meat-eaters, should one group be violent just because the other group eats meat of a cer­tain animal? Those who preach about nonviolence—should they be non-vegetarian?

In a country like ours where we’ve fairly recently turned secular, we must watch out for the signs that can sow disharmony. Secularism needs to be internalized more by those who believe that by holding on to it they can condemn another religion or lure others for conversion. And it should be completely fine for one to lose his or her religion too.

As a taxpayer, I have the right to ask this simple question: where does the money I pay in tax go? Does it support children’s education? Does it contribute to make medication free or buy foods at subsidized cost? Does it go towards development? If so, where and how much? And why do people have to lose lives and properties to foot the medical bills? Or why are the killer roads not fixed? Where’s the answer? Who should answer? “You can feel proud for becoming a taxpayer,” says the website of the Inland Revenue Department and that “Each taxpayer is treated with due respect and honor” in return. But the country’s realities are not so encouraging that I can feel proud by just paying tax. Most of all, I don’t know where it goes and if the objec­tive of tax collection is ever met.

As the new budget has introduced progressive tax, I thank the govern­ment for understanding the woes of people struggling financially. But what I have never been able to understand is how the inflation keeps growing and commodities continue to be expensive. The very people the government wishes to support suffer. Can the country’s dream of reaching middle-income status ever materialize when the government hardly gives any sub­sidy on essential commodities to those in low-income category? Will they be lifted from this level? When people need to spend a significant amount of their income on food, health, and education, how can they save or make enough to rise to higher income levels?

Higher taxes must be imposed on those who make more money but even they have a right to know where it goes. There are always cas­es of tax evaders. I have literally handed over money to doctors—I can in fact picture a few of them—as their fees. For formality, they keep someone at the counter, charging a nominal fee to make a patient card, but when you finally meet the doctors, you are required to hand in the doctor’s fees in person. They’ll happily pocket the money, without giving you a receipt, clearly evading tax. Why aren’t these incidents reported much? Does their noble-sounding job give them tax exemption? If not, why does it still happen?

Rich countries always boast how their taxpayers’ money supports people across the globe and they brand it with slogans like “From the American/British/Japanese Peo­ple” and so on. In most developed countries, taxpayers also get a tax return, which motivates people to pay more. I wonder how long it will take to start such a policy in Nepal! Here, we pay road tax, vehicle tax, income tax, and many others but in return get unhealthy air to breathe, roads full of potholes, no medical assistance, and adulterated food and milk. Every year, the development budget is heavily underutilized. So where is our money going? Why can’t this be calculated and shown to public?

Do you prefer to be called by your first name, full name, or some suffix/prefix added to your name such as sir/madam/maam/miss/dai/didi or ji at the workplace? Although I do not have data on the use of people's preferred suffix/prefix, what I've noticed is that the practice of the 'sir culture' is widespread. Yes, I said 'sir' because it's so prev­alent that although there are women in a group being addressed, the likelihood of only 'sir' being used is still high. Of course, it's not every­where, and not everyone disregards the presence of women, but I have witnessed this on several occa­sions. I've made it a point to let the speakers know that there are women members too who don't feel comfortable being overlooked, but the behavioral transformation is hardly seen.

This 'sir culture', I believe, is an outcome of a hierarchical mindset and our traditional thoughts that suggest we need to be too respectful and too humble in front of a boss, especially a male boss. It's a fact that it took a long time for women to deserve and secure senior positions at work and it could be a reason why many stick with the old-fash­ioned style, as workplaces are still dominated by men.

At schools and colleges in Nepal, it's fine to call your teachers or faculty members sir/miss/madam. Perhaps, through a demonstration effect, people use the same word beyond the educational institutions. But they could simply be called a teacher, just like we call a doctor ‘doctor’ and not 'sir' or 'madam'. Our culture and limited vocabulary to address people higher in author­ity or their professions could be another reason why people use the word 'sir', so much so that a group comprising men and women also appears as 'sir' to them.

As most people would know, 'sir' is a honorary title given to people who have done something extraordi­nary, where it is used as a prefix. Sir Elton John for example. But in Nepal and many South Asian cultures, it's used as a suffix: ‘Elton sir’ or ‘Lax­man sir’. Unlike other countries, we simply cannot call people by their names, particularly those who are senior to us, both by profession and age.

It can be a problem when in the quest to show respect you're still promoting the stereotype. Although Nepali society is changing, people in senior positions still do not eas­ily welcome challenging thoughts and critiques and find it uncom­fortable to engage in constructive discussions. That's why there still are terminologies like 'yes man' or 'yes woman'. I see a direct relation between the 'sir culture' and these 'yes fellas'.

So, how should the new gener­ation show respect for their col­leagues without being offensive? Well, I think, just add a 'ji', which would be suitable for both men and women, regardless of their age or authority.

After knowing that as much as 38 quintals of gold had been smuggled into Kathmandu in the past five years, would you still want to get or gift golden jewelry? It was indeed an example of a very well-orchestrated crime involving commoners to serving/retired police personnel, and gold sellers. But we as the consumers/buyers of gold, there was no way we could find out that beneath the luster of the glittering jewelries were criminal activities.

People in Nepal still invest a lot of money in gold, mostly at rituals such as weddings where wearing enough jewelry is considered a matter of pride, not just wealth. There are also customs of unnecessarily gifting golden jewelry during weddings. While these days parents or couples make a choice whether or not to gift or be gifted jewelry, dowries are still prevalent. If demands are not met by the bride’s families, it could eventually result in the bride’s expulsion, or even death. There are reports to validate this! Thus the demand for gold, and the motive of the smugglers.

There are also people who think stocking up gold is one of the best ways to save money as the value does not depreciate much. But how can you know which gold stores have followed due pro­cess of customs? The practice of providing certificates of genuine gems and following of customs pro­cedure should start soon.

Although not a fan of jewelry, during my sister’s wedding, I wanted to buy diamond as I don’t like the color of gold. It was strange that unlike gold sellers, the diamond seller was offering me a “heavy dis­count”. I did not understand. How can there be discount if those were expensive gems, extracted from mines, transported from overseas? I checked with the sellers if the nose stud I was wearing was a dia­mond or not. They said it was. But it was not! I had bought it for less than Rs 300. I guess it was a zirconia stud. Anyway, their answer was enough for me to drop the idea of buying diamond. They could be easily fool­ing many others with substitutes available for diamonds.

As the story is unfolding about the gold racket, of how people were abusing their power, I don’t think I would buy gold again. When travelling, if our suitcase is slightly over the prescribed weight, we need to get the extra weight out, even if it’s just garments. But after reading reports that gold was flushed in toilet or dropped in trash cans or through the holes of air­craft’s ladder, I am outraged at the airport security.

The case of 33.5 kg smuggled gold became news only when it went missing. After successfully breach­ing the airport customs rules! Three people have already died and there is a case against 63 people includ­ing Nepal Police staff. The case should conclude not only with tough actions against the culprits but also with a new rule of providing certifi­cates for any gold people purchase. It might be too soon for people to give up their demand for gold but new rules should be in place soon to prevent future crimes.