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Teach For Nepal (TFN), a move­ment to address education inequality in Nepal, hosted a dinner event this week to acknowl­edge the banks and corporations supporting the cause. Anil Keshary Shah, TFN's Leadership council member and Nabil Bank's CEO, host­ed the event. In attendance were over 100 CEOs and executives. Also present were TFN leadership council members Rameshwor Khanal, Jagdish Bhatta­rai, Rajan Shrestha and Chairperson Reshu Aryal Dhungana. Chairing the event was Education Minister Giriraj Mani Pokharel.

TFN fellows are outstanding uni­versity graduates and young profes­sionals chosen through a highly com­petitive process. They go through an intensive residential training fol­lowed by two years of teaching fel­lowship in rural public schools. “The support of various banks and cor­porations is not only helping Teach For Nepal support students in rural Nepal. It is also helping create great citizens who will take a human-cen­tered approach to the challenges we face as a country,” said Shah.

 Over in Scotland we have these things called warehouses. You know, where they keep goods before they put them on the super­market shelves. In Nepal they are called ‘aisles’ or sometimes, ‘the top shelf’. A few weeks ago I serendipitously photographed four ladies cleaning up something spilt on the floor of a well-known supermarket in Kath­mandu. Three of them managed to pull over those little plastic stools to sit on while one moped the offend­ing gunk off the floor.

This is a common occurrence, even on a Saturday (the busiest shopping day of the week). Custom­ers have learnt to jump over boxes, avoid stepping on slippery, plastic covered goods, and negotiate round the staff. And god help us if we dare to ask a question about the location of a particular good.

Interrupting conversations will be met with blank stares and in any case, they never know where anything is. And how could they? How can anyone remember where anything is in the over-stocked aisles and avalanche threatening ‘top shelves’?

Meantime we the customers are desperately searching for that par­ticular item that is always in the same location. But not this week. We get lulled into a false sense of consumerism when for many months the items we love have been available. And at several supermar­kets. And then, suddenly, it is out of stock, seemingly overnight, in every single outlet!

We search all likely shops, some­times getting lucky and sometimes not. I am in a soya milk chain. We report back, often with concrete evidence such as photographs, when we see the particularly brand that we like. Sometimes this backfires. Once I had heard that precious soya milk was available in Lalitpur.

Rushing over there (okay so I was going anyway) I discovered they only had the little individual car­tons in stock. So I bought about 25 of those. Hand on heart, about 30 minutes later my phone pinged and there was a picture of the full-sized cartons back on the shelves, right near my house!

So having climbed over the ‘ware­house’ goods, avoided annoying the staff, discovered your favorites are not there… now what? After filling the basket… ah yes… the basket. Do not get me started on those extreme­ly stupid baskets on wheels! Who the heck invented those? And are they supposed to be pushed or pulled? I have never seen anyone push them— whereby they could see approaching fellow shoppers. No, I have only seen people pulling them behind them, and others have to do a quick step to either pass or because the owner of the pull-along basket has stopped suddenly.

So, having climbed over the ‘ware­house’ goods, avoided annoying the staff, discovered your favorites are not there, stumbled over pulled bas­kets, is there anything else we can do in the supermarket? Of course there is! Aside from food shopping, one can go up the escalator—and sometimes it even works—to the Aladdin’s cave of crockery, clothes, electrical goods and, my favorite, those table top lamps cum water features.

Venture into the far aisles at your own risk! You may never be seen again among the plethora of stainless steel utensils or children’s toys. And if you take a child with you, remember buying a doll or teddy bear at twice the normal price might not have been on your shopping list.

So, you know it… having climbed over the ‘warehouse’ goods, avoid­ed annoying the staff, discovered your favorites are not there, stum­bled over pulled baskets, bought the much sought after water feature for your lounge, found your child chew­ing on a toxic toy, and having actu­ally managed to pay for everything, what next? Why not enjoy a plate of momos or kathi rolls al fresco? Don’t forget to eat while blocking the entrance to the supermarket because that is all part of the fun of shopping in Kathmand  

Nawaraj Parajuli is really a magician, who “loves playing with words and making my emo­tions come to life”. Famous for his emotive ‘kavita con­certs’ that he performs around the world, Parajuli’s book of poems ‘Sagarmathako Gahi­rai’ was in awarded one of the most prestigious awards in Nepali Literature, the Pad­mashree in 2017. The winner of All Nepali Slam Poetry 2014 was also nominated for Madan Puraskar for the aforemen­tioned book. Parajuli initially came to Kathmandu to establish him­self as an English professor, but his career took a differ­ent turn when he discov­ered his passion for poetry and his ability to play with words. Thus, after getting his Masters in English in 2014, he emerged himself in literature and poetry.

Even though he is a Nepali poet, Parajuli has a fascinating English accent.

“The poems that I write describe me but mostly my poetry is about empathy,” he says. Quoting his favorite book, Big Magic, Parajuli says that ideas are living souls who come to you: “I do not go to poetry, poetry comes to me.” He takes a deep breath and smiles. “I know it sounds stu­pid but when I get an idea for my writing I get this tick­lish feeling like a huge black ant has walked past my feet. I record whatever comes to my mind at that time.”

Recalling his past, Parajuli talks about how poetry helped him realize his dream of paying back the one rupee that his father had given him when he was a kid. “The amount I had earned never seemed enough to repay my father. I always thought I will make more. But when I even­tually handed him one lakh [rupees] in return for that one rupee, his eyes welled up. I thought at the time, all my struggles had been worth it,” he says.

It was Parajuli who started the culture of ‘kavita con­certs’ whereby poems are performed to live music. The blend of his verses with the sound of the flute playing in the background is “like sal­vation”. He has toured the world performing poems in Europe, Australia, Middle East and South Asia. In this way he has taken Nepali literature to the international community.

Parajuli is also a theater artist associated with The­ater Village and has already performed a rendition of ‘Hamlet’ at the International Theater Festival in Pakistan in 2017 and Tagore’s ‘Malini’ in Germany and Belgium. “Unfortunately I’ve not been able to perform here in Nepal but I really look forward to it,” says Parajuli.

Often you cannot explain poetry and Parajuli is a master at playing with the minds of the audience. “Once a guest left when I was performing. Generally, I would have taken it as an insult, but I found out he had left because my poetry had him in tears and he could not handle it anymore.” According to Parajuli, there is no better feeling than seeing his audience lose themselves in his poems.

Celebrated in and out of the country, Parajuli is a symbol of hope for the youth who want to pursue art. As of now, there are only a few people who take up literature as a career, and even among them, poets are rare. “I just wish that there were more people in this field, those our upcoming generation of poets and writers could look up to,” says Parajuli. 

Pictures by Pritam Chhetri 

Established in 1956, the American Women of Nepal (AWON) library, was for long the favorite haunt of booklovers in Kathmandu. One of the earliest public libraries in Nepal, it nurtured generations of book-readers.

 
AWON’s popularity started to somewhat decline with easier availability of English books in Nepali markets. Moreover, all the classics could now be downloaded for free from the internet. But it was the 2015 earthquake that literally shook the foundation of AWON library. 

Following the earthquake, it had to shift from its two-story spacious location in Kupondole, opposite Hotel Himalaya, to a small corner of the Rotary Building in Tripureshwor. While in Kupondole the library used to see hundreds of visitors a day, in the new locale hardly 20 people come visit, even on Saturdays. Many are unaware of the new location. But even for those who make it to the Rotary building, finding the book they are looking for can be tough.   

“Most of the books are not indexed and arranged properly, and readers can find themselves at total loss,” says Sanjay Lamichhane who has been coming to AWON for ten years. 

“We lost many machines such as barcode readers and computers in the earthquake and the subsequent transfer of books,” says Padam Acharya, a volunteer at AWON. “It is thus difficult for us to keep track of books.” 

A group of girls from the Rato Bangla School hostel are among a handful of people who do visit the library frequently but they too have several complaints. “The library is so dirty, there is dust everywhere,” says one. Another girl says that there aren’t enough chairs and tables to accommodate all of them and they have to sit on the floor, which is seldom cleaned. Another visitor, Manoj Pant, says, “The library also does not have backup power, which can be a problem during power cuts.”

According to Acharya, the volunteer, there is an acute shortage of space. There isn’t much space for bookshelves and all the donated books are stacked randomly. Moreover, fewer and fewer volunteers are coming. “The number of volunteers that we receive has almost halved,” says Acharya, “making it difficult to index the books and 
place them right.” 

Despite these problems the visitors did point to several good points about AWON library. Lamichhane says non-fiction section is still well-equipped, and that this is still best library in town. Ujjwal Shrestha, a social studies teacher at GEMS school, agrees, and recommends the library for people of all ages. 

The RBS students were of the view that in order to boost its popularity the library could invite prominent authors to come and speak. Manoj Pant suggests coordinating with local clubs and NGOs to bring in volunteers and to raise money for machinery. One thing is certain: only extensive cooperation among book lovers from all walks of life will save this landmark library.