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Slow and steady loses the race because the rabbit is wide awake. Be the rabbit and make a habit—to be on time.

It is not time that is running away but you who are unable to chase it. Time has always stood still; the clocks are just an invention for humans to be reminded that they are fleeting away. It sure is philosophical until you stop questioning ‘why’ and start answering ‘what.’ 

Generally, people who are late blame it on their mental health, saying, “I’ve got ADHD and get distracted very easily,” and picking up mental health symptoms on Google, trying to match them all that was not there. Some genuine, and most trying their best to make it. Infuriating is when some are chronically late for any reason other than the fact that they don't care enough about the people who are waiting for them. Encountering the problem, and excuses follow with “I was going to do this, but that came up.” But of all problems. 

Things take a turn when you are on time, but the lateness around swallows your productivity. Shift blame persists, and the traffic is accused. Everyone is in a hurry but rarely on time. 

A New York Times article suggests that consistent lateness is driven by optimism, such as believing a 25-minute commute will only take 10 minutes. Take that commute and slam it on the Kathmandu roads; you are gifted 15 minutes more. 

If you were a college student studying under the Tribhuvan University (TU) administration, it would be a miracle if your exam results came on time. I too waited and enjoyed the long holidays for them to publish. Being at the end of my second year and getting the first-year results was funny and fascinating. Honestly, everything was sadly expected from the saviours of the education system, only except in 2017, when nine faculties were given the results within three months. The World Bank had given them Rs 50m for timely publication.

Tardiness applies to not just coming on time but also when the work trusted upon is not met on time. It’s like a domino effect where you battle out each and every person’s impending procrastination, which is engraved in the Nepali personality. One would often disappear for a tea break. Astonishingly, when it comes to food, people are usually on time. 

There would be two types of late people: the deadliner, who finds their peak adrenaline rush nearer to the deadline, and the egoist, who’d be smug with the work done in the littlest time possible. I place myself in the former type. 

If there is a monkey on your back, call the punctually-challenged an hour before the planned time. Who knows, for I could be the monkey. Sometimes you don’t feel motivated enough to be there just to see an empty room, so you’d rather fall in with the herd. 

Now imagine in the fairy tales of Kantipur that you were getting a hefty sum of money for coming in early—increased productivity, improved relationships, a better reputation, and maybe refined planning. A method of positive reinforcement. Or maybe negative punishment, to be fired or expelled after three strikes, then trickles in the timeliness. Many students at my college would return home only because they were late to avoid facing detention—props to the creatives for finding a loophole.

There used to be a time when the Kathmandu denizens would hear the current-coughing Ghantaghar bell sounds around the valley, but today you’d just snooze your blaring alarm five minutes more, thinking, “I’ll just follow the Nepali time.”

Among the busy crowd of bustling Kathmandu, I corner my scooter aside to the pavement and check my phone for calls. A pedestrian prances along and asks ‘Pathao ho?’—I deny. Just minutes later the same question was asked. I retorted, “I am not a Pathao driver.”

It sure becomes infuriating when I am a college student waiting for my future to clear out like the Kathmandu road but am nagged with people when I come to a halt. Their only assumption of me being a Pathao driver is the arachnoid mobile holder—I don’t have it, and yet again the question is presented.

I take off my helmet to act cool and nonchalant but people can be brave and reluctant with hurried questions. They are more disgusted by me not being the driver much more than I am pretending to not be one. The questionnaires are used to being asked by the drivers in a larger monopolistic way to take anyone from anywhere to everywhere.

Are people not phased with the threats that come with offline usage? The rampant entrusting of your security is whittled to a stranger. According to some customers, platform-based ridesharing fills an important void in the poorly provided and poorly functioning public transport sector of Kathmandu (Pg-21) yet the trust is frayed. You can only rely on the Nepali hospitality and humility. It is widespread now, for walkers to save money and go off the record with the vacant pillion seats as much of the fares demanded are lessened offline.

Section 8 (2) of the Vehicle and Transport Management Act 1993 states that no private motor vehicle shall be used for the transport service.  Section 12 (1) of the Act also states vehicles registered for one purpose cannot be used for another. So, I can’t be malevolent, can I?

The website Pathao clearly mentions that the riders are ‘not the employees of Pathao’ and are based on a freelancing model and only the concerned individual parties shall be solely responsible for the claims, judgements and liabilities that result from any accident, loss or damage, and not the company or Pathao. 

Another famed app InDrive, mentions on its General Terms of Use that any decision to offer or accept the Services is an ‘independent decision’ made in each user’s sole discretion at the user’s own risk. InDrive has a plus point as passengers offer the price and the drivers counteroffer seemingly as a colloquial Nepali style of bargaining. Less fares yet the company is not responsible for any damages or losses incurred. The initial fare, as should be determined based on a minimum distance of three kilometers. 

Some of these drivers are incautious and unwary of the traffic around, as they swerve across lanes without giving a side light increasing the risk to not just the passenger but to other common drivers and pedestrians. I know this because I have ridden on one.

The ride-sharing companies do give ample employment but the malice and greed of the drivers to earn a little bit more ruins everything. Even mixing in the honest working class.

Wonder if I could charge the galling people with my expensive petrol money… or play the bargain game which I am bound to lose. But unfortunately, I am not a Pathao driver.

The author is a student of Journalism and Mass Communication at St Xavier’s College, Maitighar