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Nepal has six seasons of weather. Do you need me to list them out? No, because Google is your friend right? Anyway, despite the fact it would appear the weather got stuck in shishir (winter) this year, we enjoy many other seasons too. I’m sure we all remember the bandh season. An annual occurrence, usually around grishma (early summer), when the temperature begins to soar, literally as well as figuratively. Then there is the wedding season, or should I say, seasons—because there are more than one in a calendar year. We are now entering the ‘traditional festival’ season. Or did it start with Shivaratri? This stretches till the monsoon hits and then reappears at Dashain, plunging us again into weeks of eating, drinking and celebrating.

In more recent times Nepal has managed to successfully integrate several festivals from around the world—Christmas, the Gregorian New Year, and some which are not even festivals—Valentine’s, Halloween, etc. One festival that hasn’t made it to Nepal is Easter—not entirely sure why. Bunny rabbits and chocolate eggs have overtaken the religious meaning, so what’s not to love? These ‘imported’ festivals seem to be geared more towards the young, and the young-at-heart. But it’s the restaurants, bars and hotels that really put their heart and soul into the festivities. And money into their cash registers! On the other hand, ‘traditional festival season’ brings traffic jams and delays. The roads of Kathmandu were not built for wooden chariots AND cars. Plus, the low-hanging wires were not there when the original two- or three-story high chariots came into existence. 

I’m usually at a loss trying to keep up with the festivals—those red days on the Nepali calendar do not really help me, a non-Nepali speaker, much. I often don’t know it is a festival until I go outside to discover the larger shops are closed and, damn it, so is the bank!

Then there is the addition of music, art, dance, film, and theater festivals, all designed to keep our social diary full of cool stuff. It’s easy to miss something really interesting in the flurry of ‘red calendar days’ or Facebook event invites. It seems the local communities have also discovered this is a way to bring people to their area, and teach us something about their culture. Recently there was a Kirtipur Woman’s Festival showcasing the traditional culture of that town, with particular focus on the role women play. 

There is an interesting photo exhibition on Panaulti (a small Newari town near Dhulikhel which should not be missed), an annual event called Echoes in the Valley, which highlights traditional music from the Kathmandu Valley—and there is so much more to see, visit and do. One begins to realize the reason behind things being a bit slow and unplanned. Why the person you want to see is not at his desk (his deity is being celebrated at home perhaps?), and the reason why art of every genre exists in abundance in Nepal. My only real complaint here is—I have to work. So I miss many of the festivities, even if I do spot them on the calendar. Like many in Kathmandu, I find the old (read festivals) and the new (read 9 to 5 jobs) do not sit well together. Traditional festivals were arranged around the agricultural seasons so as to not interfere with working the land. Who the hell invented this 9 to 5 stuff anyway?  

Meantime, although we are witnessing climate change ‘as it happens’, and we may lose some of the six weather seasons, let’s hope the festive seasons of Nepal continue to enlighten, entertain and ground us for many years to come. With that I’m off to the Nepal Human Rights International Film Festival. Today is a ‘traditional’ festival day after all, and my office is closed!

Last week I visited the Tarai as part of an assignment regard­ing the mechanization of grain harvesting. Interestingly, commu­nity women said mechanization has indeed reduced time spent in the fields. But by reducing that time, men spent longer gambling and drinking, with a resulting increase in domestic violence. It would seem with every step forward, there is a partial step back.

Same can be said about the cause for equality among all Nepali people: one step forward, one step back. Take untouchability. On paper it is eliminated but in practice it is still very real, particularly in the rural areas. Look around: how often are Dalits invited into the kitchens of the so-called “upper caste” people? How many times are casual insults flung about, even in offices and schools?

Expats often struggle to under­stand this discrimination so I was excited to know that a friend was ‘walking the talk’, literally. I had a chance to catch up with him in Koha­lpur to find out more…

Nepal Padayatra 2019 is an ini­tiative started by a small team of three people—Reeta Pariyar, Ashok Darnal and Homraj Acharya—who are walking across the country, West to East, Mahakali to Mechi, through the Tarai, with the aim of ending all forms of untouchability. “Today untouchability has become more like a silent discrimination. It has been ended on paper but not in reality. It is now like a cancer—no longer visi­ble like a fever, but deep-rooted like a cancer,” explains Homraj Acharya.

“Around 14 percent of the pop­ulation, which is Dalit, face dis­crimination, adding up to a loss of economic advantages to families and the country as a whole. So we decided to march on foot to meet communities, connect with the peo­ple, record their feelings and sto­ries, and document the process. Acharya informs that the marchers were also meeting municipal offi­cials as this was the time—with new municipalities being formed—to get concrete plans from them—and from schools, private businesses, and gov­ernment offices—on how they are prioritizing Dalit communities and removing roadblocks.

I asked why Acharya, a Brahman, is participating in this march, along with his two Dalit co-marchers?

I asked why Acharya, a Brahman, is participating in this march, along with his two Dalit co-marchers? “It’s not enough for so-called upper caste people to say, ‘Well, I’m not per­sonally prejudiced.’ We from the so-called upper caste need to own the reality that discrimination exists, and work to make a difference. A personal action can be as simple as accepting a cup of tea in a Dalit home. Or adapting the hiring prac­tices in your company. Perhaps it will be talking with your school to figure out how to teach about the incredi­ble contributions by Dalit people to Nepali culture—blacksmiths, tailors, musicians, artisans, etc.”

Having been told they will spend around two months on the road, I wondered how the march is being funded. “Civil society is helping us to organize community talk pro­grams, and also inviting us into their homes to sleep and eat. Businesses along the way are also helping us. We want to do this entirely without NGO funding, which we feel would be missing the point of this initia­tive,” explained Acharya. After the march, what happens next? “We will end the march in Jhapa then drive back to Kathmandu where we will use our documented experiences as a dialogue platform with Province leaders and others,” replies Acharya.

I met them on Day 11: 251 km/300,012 steps into their march. How were they them­selves holding up? “We started out-wearing our boots, but three days ago we switched to slippers,” explains Reeta Pariyar. “Look at the blisters on my feet! But the people we are meeting and our aim out­weigh the personal hardship.”

I noticed from social media that many locals were joining in along the way. Can just about anyone march? “Sure. We welcome individ­uals and organizations to express their commitment and solidarity. Anyone is welcome to march, pro­vided they recognize that marching is only a small initial step. The most important actions take place in our daily lives.” For further information see the Nepal Padayatra 2019 Face­book page.

A cup of joe: The origins of the saying are unclear, yet we do love the stuff, even though not all coffee taste the same. In Nepal coffee is grown in the mid-hills between 1,000m-1,800m. The higher the altitude, the better the coffee (as long as there is no frost). According to the Nepal Coffee Producers Association, coffee was first introduced in Nepal from Myanmar by one Hira Giri, in 1938.

But it remained an attrac­tive tree in the courtyard or a hobby until the 1970s when King Birendra declared Gulmi a coffee region, marking the beginning of professional coffee production. Yet even today few people really know that Nepal grows wonder­ful coffee. Or that in Europe Nepali coffee is considered a specialty.

I recently talked to Birgit Lienhart-Gyawali, of Kar.ma Coffee, to find out more about these magic beans. “Although in Nepal farmers receive more money per kilo for the coffee cherries than in other coun­tries, the production is very low. The reason for this is mainly migration.”

“With only the old and very young left in commu­nities, it is hard to inspire them to increase productiv­ity because for them the little income is enough,” explains Lienhart-Gyawali. With coffee trees in other countries yield­ing, on average, 10kg a season (up to 20kg in some cases), the average tree in Nepal produces a mere 300gm. Hard to believe, right? But let’s start at the beginning with the seedling.

Coffee seedlings take about a year before they are big enough to plant out. Another three to five years before you get a harvest. Meantime, the trees have to be trimmed. As a rule of thumb, a cof­fee tree should be no higher than a person and no wider than arms reach. Harvesting season is between Novem­ber and end of March, when only the red berries should be collected. There is an element of trust here as the farmers are paid instantly, by weight. It is only later that bad or under-ripe cherries are found and removed.

When the berries are later placed in a tub of water, the under-ripe, over-ripe, or bad cherries float to the top. After this the fruit flesh is removed from the good berries in the pulping machine. After pulping the beans look some­what like peanuts; that sort of color. Washed several times, it takes them three weeks to dry. Then they are packed and stored till they reach the cor­rect level of moisture.

Meantime experienced farmers can tell by biting the parchment beans whether they are ready to go to the next stage. “We work with farmers in Ilam, Kaski, Sindh­upalchowk, Gorkha and Lam­jung. When the beans reach the parchment stage we buy them from the farmers, and take off the skins, revealing the green beans. A lot of beans are lost in the process in Nepal. For example, six kilograms of cherries gives one kilogram of parchment. This makes it an expensive process. Of course, in other countries it is more mechanized”, explains Lien­hart-Gyawali.

“What is also interesting is that the coffee growers do not drink the coffee, or if they do, they drink that which is not good quality. We spend time educating them in how to prepare a good cup of cof­fee. Once they know what the different beans taste like, it’s easier to convince them not to add in green or bad cherries at the harvesting stage.”

Lienhart-Gyawali demon­strated the next stage. A normal pot, like the one used to make popcorn in households, is heated. The green beans are added and stirred with a kaptero (type of whisk made from sticks) for around eight minutes. The length of roasting affects the taste. In this process the skins come off. Now the beans are ready to be ground for use! Smells good!

I asked whether Nepali cof­fee is actually organic. Yes. Not originally a cash crop, the concept of adding chemicals is not there. And, according to Lienhart-Gyawali, farm­ers in the high hills tend not to use chemicals. There are mainly two types of coffee in Nepal: Arabica (from Ethi­opia) and Typica (originat­ing in Yemen). Arabica, hav­ing the better flavor, is more expensive. Nepal exports very little coffee, with Kar.ma Coffee exporting to Taiwan and Europe.

In Germany it is sold as a charity coffee, with profits going to fund school proj­ects in Nepal. Interestingly nothing is wasted in the Nepal coffee industry—the water from the washing stage goes into the village biogas system, the parchment skins go to feed buffalos, and the green bean skins are cleverly made into conscious living paper products by Kar.ma Coffee. Another cup?

It’s been a year since I was on a domestic flight, and then it was only a short one. Actually it’s been quite a while since I have been on a long domestic flight. But this week I flew to Nepalganj. And the longer flights give one the chance to look round at what fellow passengers are up to.

 There usually are several colorful ladies, going to or coming from weddings. There are the selfie takers, the majority of which are said colorful ladies and their travel companions. One girl playing Candy Crush the whole way. The usual hajur amma looking mystified at the whole process, and the cool businessmen making phone calls till the very last minute. Then getting their newspaper out to look very busy and professional.

 Then there are the air stewardesses. Well-groomed young women who barked instructions in English at everyone. Why then do they look surprised when few follow those instructions? Your guess is as good as mine! Both going and coming back this week, I got into trouble for trying to put my bag in the overhead compartment—“sit down and let passengers on first”. Well, if they got the passengers on the plane five minutes sooner, or got us organized into rows (Buddha Air allocates seats on the bigger planes) then we could store our hand luggage without “holding up departure”. Sitting next to me was one man clutching his reasonably large case. No doubt he had been told off before about putting it overhead and has given up ever trying to do that again.

Back in the present day, very noticeable is the ringing of phones immediately on landing

 Another group I had forgotten about is the sweetie hoarders. Those small planes still give out boiled sweets, meant to aid ear pressure when sucked on takeoff and landing. I take one for this purpose. But I have noticed local passengers think these are freebies, to be grabbed by the handful and stuffed into pockets and bags. Probably the original meaning of the sweet giving has also been lost on the stewardesses too. Because, as we know, these ladies are not shy about telling passengers what to do.

 Perhaps they could ask, politely, that people only take one or two? Gone are the days when we got soft drinks on the flight. Now only water is handed out. Even longer gone is the airline Necon Air which I used to fly regularly to Kathmandu from Nepalganj. They gave a small lunchbox of a sandwich and pastry, as well as a fizzy drink, and, on every flight, a lucky draw. Your chance to win a free flight ticket! Not surprisingly Necon Air went bust a long time ago. Those fizzy drinks and goodies come at a cost!

 With reference to the lucky draw—I did actually win that once. Oddly, it was on my last ever flight to Kathmandu from Nepalganj as a resident of the Tarai Region. Perhaps the Universe was talking to me. What it was saying is anyone’s guess as only the next day, the Universe sent someone to steal my handbag (only time ever in Nepal), containing nothing of value. Except that damn free ticket!

 Back in the present day, very noticeable is the ringing of phones immediately on landing. Not turned off or onto flight mode then? I know that message is given in both English and Nepali so why do people not follow instructions? Domestic passengers do seem, give them some credit, to be able to remain seated longer than Nepali passengers flying internationally. On landing I mean. I was quite impressed by that. But then, there is the usual mad scramble to disembark. Same as the scramble to embark because the airport bus or plane might just leave without us! Probably not. Not on the watch of the efficient stewardesses!

You might know Gokarna Forest Resort as a beautiful 100-room hotel situated within a forest and having its own golf course. Somewhere at the end of a dusty road, passing Boudha Stupa on the way. What you might not know is the Gokarna Protected Forest has been preserved as a kings’ hunting ground for around 500 years. Still home to monkeys and deer, the forest has ancient trees which go back even further than that. Some of these trees appeared (as on location around ancient Lumbini) in Bernardo Bertolucci’s 1994 film Little Buddha, with scenes of Siddhartha’s childhood. And it’s this forest that has always been the appeal for guests, even before there was a resort.

The 6,755 yard par 72 golf course, designed by Gleneagles Golf Developments, Scotland (noteworthy!) was officially opened in 1999. Long before there was a hotel, golfers were attracted to this international standard course.

I first visited Gokarna in 2002 when Jazzmandu held an event in what is now the main courtyard, in those days a grassy area between the trees and the half constructed hotel. Accommodation at that time was provided in what they now term ‘the cottages’ but is actually a two storey building situated a little away from today’s main hotel. Next to it was the Hunters Lodge, once an actual lodge for hunters, but in those early days, the hotel reception and restaurant. Next came the fabulous swimming pool and spa in 2003. Followed by the opening of the main wing of the hotel in 2005.

I know these things, not because I have a great memory, but because while visiting the resort recently I realized there were only two or three familiar faces left. One being Deepak Acharya, Gokarna’s golf pro. He has been overseeing the running of the golf club since its conception and remains one of Nepal’s foremost golfers. And has the memory of an elephant! He went on to explain to me that the current owner, Yeti World Nepal, (aka Yeti Airlines) only took over the lease of the resort in 2010.

Another ‘old timer’ of 20 years, Janak Ghimire, Outlet Manager, and I sat overlooking the golf course to reminisce about the time before Yeti owned the property. I had completely forgotten the hotel was once part of the Le Meridien Group. But I do remember when it was part of the Starwood Group as I was the ‘secret guest’ then. By complete chance I was asked to become someone who would appear to be just another guest to the staff but who in fact was reporting back on their efficiency, friendliness, and making recommendations as to what could be improved in the facilities and service. That was a job I loved! Meantime, Ghimire was always a friendly face, based mainly in the Golf Club, my favorite location then, and now.

Over time there has been many changes at Gokarna. The 2015 earthquake took the Hunters Lodge; the hotel grew from its original 16 to 100 rooms, losing some of its feeling of a getaway resort, and sadly, the grass in the main courtyard has been replaced with paving stones, and access to those ‘famous’ trees has been somewhat blocked off. But many things remain constant. The swimming pool and spa is still an oasis (never busy during the week); the forest, deer, and extremely cheeky monkeys remain the same. Having a whole, untouched piece of chocolate cake swiped by an agile primate is a reality!

For those looking for a short break not far from the city, or for those who enjoy golf, Gokarna cannot be recommended highly enough. Yes, it has become more service oriented and less ‘rustic’ over the years, but there are still a few smiling faces like those of Janak Ghimire and Deepak Acharya to remind you of simpler times.

 Since I always write quite negative things about taxi drivers—those of you on my Facebook might have noticed I am now posting photographs of license plates belonging to drivers who refuse to go on the meter or who quote wildly over-inflated prices—I thought why not write something nice for a change.

Because at long last I actually do have something nice to say. About drivers! I know, I know, please pick your jaw off the floor and continue reading. Over the past 10 years or more I have been using a car hire company when I have needed to go a bit fur­ther than Patan. Every time it seems there is a different driver. Which means none of them actually know where I live. So no picking me up from my actual door. Not very con­venient at all. During the time of doing earthquake relief in Kavre, I was driven, more often than not, by a nice man called Ramesh. After these few weeks of being driven around with a pile of teddy bears in the boot (another story!) I forgot about Ramesh.

A couple of weeks ago I was allo­cated him again by the hire com­pany. Why not take his number, I thought. So now not only do I have a driver who knows where I live, but he also lives just a couple of streets away. No more excuses about traffic jams when the car is late! So tick the box for the more complicated or far away drives. Meantime, as I posted these photos of licensed plates I jokingly wrote that taxi drivers were never going to see my somewhat cheeky taxi comments. When, lo and behold—I have a part time taxi driver on my Facebook friends list! Someone I know from a bar where he works in the evening. So now I have two people on my ‘good driver’ list! Finally.

 Lo and behold, I have a part time taxi driver on my Facebook friends list! Someone I know from a bar where he works in the evening

Since this is a positive story about drivers I find myself out of words already, with only half the column filled up! This, when normally I find my allocated number of words to be too restricting, just too damn short! So like the uncomfortable cof­fee date, I’m searching around for something to talk about. How about road conditions—pretty relevant if I say so myself. Yesterday I travelled (with my new taxi driver) along the river road that runs between Jorpati/Boudha and Pashupathi. Once, not very long ago at all, that was a green area with a decent road. Definitely better than the road running through Boudha. But time has changed and a lot of buildings, mainly workshops, have come up there. The river seems to have totally disappeared.

We wondered what was being built as we could see ghat-like steps on the far side of the ‘river’. I couldn’t imagine there would ever be enough water for ghats. We discussed the possibility of the steps leading down to a future grassed area, but then couldn’t see the builders justi­fying the cost of installing steps to a play-ground. Perhaps they were the base of a bridge? We also laughed about the time we both volunteered for Jazzmandu and had to accom­pany (horrified) visiting musicians along the parallel, but equally as bumpy, road out to the Jazz Bazaar event at Gokarna.

Laughter is definitely one of the benefits of having a taxi driver on your friends list! Yet on that day, I grew sad: the scenery and road have disappeared making this ‘rural area’ an urban jungle mess in prog­ress. It’s heartbreaking to see rural areas disappear, especially around World Heritage Sites. Which was, as Lonely Planet once described it, “a pleasant walk between Pashupati­nath and Boudhanath”.

Unfortunately, despite its amazing history,  glorious good looks and interesting shops, it does seem as though Baber Mahal Revisited (BMR) needs a bit of refreshing. Even as recently as 10 years ago, it saw many more visitors. So what has gone wrong? It doesn’t appear to be the complex itself. Could it be a change in shopping habits with the opening of new, glass-fronted malls? Or the dreadful traffic that makes customers think twice about heading to somewhere that is, let’s face it, in the middle of nowhere? Whatever it is I hope this review will inspire you to visit!

Situated between Singha Durbar and Maitighar Mandala, I’m sure you have been there. But when was the last time you really paid attention to the beautiful architecture as you rushed towards your favourite shop or restaurant?

You may know that BMR was created around 1996/97. But are you also aware that BMR pays homage to the Rana palaces that were built throughout Kathmandu during the 1800s to the mid-1900s? This being the period when the Rana dynasty rose and fell; the founder being the infamous Jung Bahadur Rana (1817-1877).

What you might not know, however, is that Baber Mahal Revisited takes its name from the original Baber Mahal (later becoming the Department of Roads), built by Field-Marshal Maharaja Chandra Shumsher Jung Bahadur Rana in 1910 for his son. As these Rana palaces with their European Neoclassical and Baroque architecture were built on vast expanses of landscaped grounds, it’s not hard to visualise why the original palace stables and guard house is now part of Baber Mahal Revisited.

If you really know your Rana palaces, you will know that BMR is not just simply an old cow shed and guard room with some new building constructed around about. No, it’s a complex copying and recreating some of the great Rana palaces; sculptured with a great deal of planning, research, and love.

The entrance to the complex is a small replica of the entrance to Singha Durbar. The first courtyard’s façade is a copy of the Thapathali Durbar, with its Mughal touches and pati. One side of the biggest courtyard, the Mul Chowk, is a replica of Babar Mahal Durbar. Those former cowsheds now house boutique shops in what is known as the galli. Another small courtyard is in the style of less grand townhouses of the period. The windows taken from actual shop fronts in Patan, representing both Asian and European architectural styles. The original guard house stands over by Chez Caroline restaurant, housing more shops. Still want to rush past?

One side of the biggest courtyard, the Mul Chowk, is a replica of Baber Mahal Durbar

Yes, you’ve probably eaten at the great French restaurant, running since BMR opened. I’m sure you have attended an art event at Siddhartha Gallery. But have you seen the Elephant House at the other end of the gullie that sells everything elephant? Elephant statues, elephant necklaces, elephant cuff links, elephant napkin rings, elephant mugs, elephant bottle openers, and did I mention elephants? Next door the Japanese Whisky House might have escaped your attention too. And you might wish it had stayed that way when you see the price tags! 

Yamazaki single malt from the distillery near Kyoto is indeed for the (rich) connoisseur, with prices that range in the laks of rupees. Take a moment to discover the hidden terrace hidden within Bawarchi restaurant, where you can partake of a less expensive spirit. Or go upstairs (above Chez Caroline) to Pipalbot where the welcoming owner may offer a cup of Tibetan or Nepali tea while you discuss an up-coming catered gathering, surrounded by Tenzing Norbu prints, silver trinkets, rugs, and wall hangings. There is even heritage-inspired accommodation in the form of Baber Mahal Vilas, run by BMR’s owners, and the discrete, boutique, 3 Rooms by Pauline, run by a French entrepreneur. 

With so much on offer, how can we not Revisit?

 Show of hands as to who reading this stands up to pee? Now lower your hand if you are a guy. Not seeing a lot of hands left! Recently there was an article in this newspa­per about a ‘period subscription box’ which, among other things, includes a Pee Buddy. Yes, I know that usually women do go to the bathroom in pairs, but it’s not that kind of buddy! This one is made of cardboard. None the wiser? Well the idea is to place the funnel shaped device under the urine stream, directing it to the toilet (or bushes). Yes, I have heard of similar things, and I am sure there is something like this for female soldiers. But the article goes on to say this is all about hygiene. No more worrying about dirty toilets, just unzip and… Unzip? So not really the best idea if you are wearing a skirt/ sari/ lungi (unless behind a closed door)? The article also men­tions throwing it in the dustbin after use. Dustbin? In the bathroom that was too dirty to use in the conven­tional manner? According to the article you pull your knickers aside to use the funnel. Easier said than done if attached to your knickers is a sani­tary napkin. Sounds like it could get a little… err, not so hygienic.

 Are we not building more barriers between the Kathmandu ‘elite’ and rural woman who can only dream of monthly chocolate and soft toys?

Which leads us back to the period subscription box. This is seemingly for “college students and profession­als who don’t have time to pamper themselves during their periods”. Contained within these boxes are not only sanitary napkins, but surprise gifts (the picture is a teddy bear), menstrual hygiene items (I’m see­ing hand sanitizer in the picture), snacks and chocolate. These boxes are then ordered for home delivery. Obviously these professional women are incapable of going out to buy sanitary napkins, or their own choc­olate, and enjoy monthly treats of soft toys. There was also something called “instant period stain remover”. I wonder what that could be? So far no menstrual (diva) cup or tampons (which would be easier to use with the Pee Buddy surely) come with the box.

On the topic of the diva cup, I am sure these are extremely useful. In countries with water, hot water (boil­ing is recommended before storing for next month), and with toilets hygienic enough that we can actually sit on them! And, countries where they aren’t obsessed with virginity. Is one still a virgin if one uses a diva cup? Well, yes of course, but many cultures may disagree. Then there is the whole issue of insertion. How many Nepali women reading this (be honest) actu­ally know what their body feels and looks like? And how many women in rural areas (where these things are currently being pushed by the Kathmandu feminist crowd) have the privacy necessary to practise with the cup; the water to clean it, a pot culturally acceptable to boil it in, and a safe place to store it?

Plus a husband or father who won’t faint or lash out? And, I’m sorry, but being a woman who has lived in places without proper toi­lets, I cannot see how the hygiene part works (where to throw the blood, rinse the cup, etc). Plus speak­ing from experience, it’s bloody (sic!) difficult to insert something made of silicone. (Lubricant supplied?)

Leaving hygiene and virginity aside, are we not building more barriers between the Kathmandu ‘elite’ (home delivery of the period subscription box at Rs 650, Rs 1,199 and Rs 2,500) and rural woman who can only dream of monthly chocolate and soft toys? But kudos for trying. Now work on mak­ing something accessible for all. But as for those taking diva cups to rural areas—pushing your agenda isn’t the way to promote inclusive women’s rights. #equi­tablerights #allwomenmatter #itsaper­sonalchoice