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My first experience with the death of a close relative was the sudden demise of my grandfather a few years ago. As is with all humans, that safe bubble of denial of death, in which I had erstwhile lived, had inevitably burst. What followed was the harrowing aftermath—the dealing with and facing of the last rite of passage. A grief and sadness that I had never known crept upon me, first as a shock and then as a hesitant realization of the departure of someone I loved.

While each individual confronts this inescapable tragedy in their own unique way, the universality of death makes the feelings I have described resonate with most humans. It is, then, curious to note how our ancestors practiced certain rituals that demanded a more inclusive grieving. Most cultures and communities, all over the world, have their own specific ways of grieving for the dead. From cremation in Hindu and Buddhist religions to burial in Muslim and Christian religious practices, a specific mourning protocol has been observed for centuries. While they may differ in their funeral and mourning processes, a common thread runs through all religions: collective mourning.

Be it during the burial and cremation itself or the wake afterwards, for centuries communities have shared the unimaginable grief that death leaves behind. It is essential that the burning on the pyre be observed by friends and family of the deceased or the burial be reverberated by the chanting of prayers by community members. Even the “Ram Naam Satya hai,” a phrase repeated while transporting the body to the cremation ground, is a collective shout by the members of the community who usually accompany the relatives of the deceased.

This shared grief, the burden of death that is distributed, if not evenly then disparately, speaks of the communal companionship our society is founded on. This communal grieving is apparently different in different cultures: from the “death wails” of the ancient Celts from Central Europe who allowed for public mourning to the Oppari singers of Tamil Nadu who are professional funeral mourners. Different they may be, the common thread of communal grieving attest to the importance our ancestors awarded to such group rituals.

With such immersive mourning rituals embedded in the very matrix of our society, Covid-19 seems to have shaken the very fundamentals of grief we operate on. The highly contagious nature of the virus has forced authorities to put a stop on funerals due to the huge groups it gathers. Crematoriums in Kathmandu have reached maximum capacity and people are being forced to cremate out in the open. Moreover, for the ones who have died due to the virus itself, the matter becomes all the more complicated with many not even getting a proper funeral that follows religious decree. While it is grudgingly acknowledged that such measures are important in order to keep the virus from spreading, it is safe to say that the pandemic has caused more damage than is visible.

Covid-19 restrictions have robbed us of an experience of communal grieving that would have otherwise helped cope with the unimaginable distress that death results in. This experience, one that we took for granted, is essential to a “sound” grieving process. Having been robbed of the opportunity to formally say goodbye to a loved one, to carry out proper funerary practices, to gather in a group to lament the departed and to share grief through food and drinks, we seem to have lost an appropriate channel for our grief.

Further, the sheer inability to change the circumstance invokes an emotional hopelessness. We are constantly gagged by grief, with Instagram and Facebook obituaries continuously reminding us of losses incurred, yet it seems impossible to scream out loud. Thus when news of a covid positive family unable to cremate their relative who had been pronounced dead three days prior reaches our ears, we are forced to come face to face with a horror we are unprepared for.

Last month, a New York Times article discussing mental health problems during the pandemic went viral. The principal take away was the word “languishing” which, Adam Grant writes, is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It is the “void between depression and flourishing—the absence of well-being.” The rising number of cases along with an ineffectual vaccine rollout process resulted in another national lockdown.

However, as compared to the last national lockdown, the gravity of the situation in Nepal currently simply cannot be disregarded. The mental toll that the pandemic has taken on our lives needs to be recognized. In these unprecedented times, we are “languishing,” unaware of how to deal with the ever-increasing encounter with deaths of someone or someone’s someone, all of them gradually being reduced to mere statistics. The lack of a proper channel is only adding to our distress and while the bittersweet experience of collective mourning is far from us, alternatives need to be discerned. 

Dorothy P. Hollinger, the author of “The Anatomy of Grief,” says that art helps us express our sorrow. She says it is important not only to contextualize our pain but also to honor the victims. It is important, for the sake of our collective catharsis, to not let the victims be reduced to a mere statistical fact.

Normalcy, if such a thing still exists, is still a long way off. It is difficult to try and assuage the grief that we are experiencing when we are so bombarded with news of death. To avoid facing the situation would be a serious mishap. A good first step would be the acknowledgement of the unfavorable turn our lives have taken. While some may prescribe “staying positive”, studies show that toxic positivity or “tragic optimism” only causes more harm.

Still, no measure is failsafe and the mental damage this pandemic has unleashed on us cannot be reversed. We need to urge the government to provide faster vaccinations in order to gain some respite from the fear that has been plaguing us. Perhaps, for now, collectively chanting “No Khop, No Vote” may be useful to channel our grief.

The author, a native of Dharan, is pursuing her Masters in Comparative Literature from SOAS University of London. Her interests lie in a keen observation of culture, politics, art and their shaping of the society

Probably for the first time in Nepal's history millions of people were praying for a politician's recovery from illness—in solidarity. Unfortunately, their prayer went unanswered as Ujwal succumbed to Covid-19 on June 1, after valiantly fighting it for nearly a month. 

He was not a humongously famous big leader of a big political party. The Bibeksheel Sajha Party has only three members elected from proportional representation votes in the Bagmati provincial assembly. It’s a small party by all measures. But when the news that he had to be supported with the very expensive Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation (ECMO) became public, a spontaneous fund-raising campaign was initiated by some youths, which exceeded the target within 24 hours. Almost Rs 5 million was raised spontaneously, and enquiries were still pouring in. The exuberance exhibited by Nepalis from all over Nepal and abroad was insightful. It’s evident that Ujwal was the rare politician of our time who had earned genuine public respect through his virtues.

Ashutosh Tiwari, a fellow party member and a friend of Ujwal, wrote on social media, “There are people who have authority and power. And there are people like Ujwal who have courage and influence. I see the enormous heartfelt outpouring of public support, affection, love and concerns for him in this light.”

Ujwal, who was known to be a miser with words in conversations, had many firsts to his name. At a time youths of this country were frustrated with the never-ending political crisis, Ujwal dared to lead the change. With many patriotic slogans as the basis of his messaging—‘Nepal is open’ in response to the culture of closures that were employed by all political parties, and ‘Nepal is our home, not a rented room’ to invigorate a feeling of commitment towards public matters from the youth—Ujwal had always been a maverick, the daring one.

There was clear evidence of some level of support for Ujwal Thapa and for his brand of alternative politics since the beginning. It was manifest in the followership, the votes that some of the candidates received and on social media. That this support hasn't been enough to sweep the old forces away or to triumph over other parties has been one of the most perplexing dichotomies and disappointments of present-day Nepal. In that context, the spontaneous outpouring of support for him was a happy surprise.

In fact, Rabindra Mishra, the current president of Sajha Bibeksheel Party, which was formed by merging the Sajha Party he founded with the Bibeksheel Nepali Dal that Ujwal co-founded, wrote in social media in the sense that 'had the kind of support and concern that's pouring in at the moment been shown by voters in the two elections that Ujwal faced, the situation would have been much different'. He later withdrew the statement as it drew a lot of flak for being insensitive.

Although it was inappropriate and tactless of him to say such a thing when Ujwal was fighting for every breath, it had some truth to it. And Mishra himself had lost the election to the Congress stalwart Prakash Man Singh by a close margin in Kathmandu 1 constituency; and it is an open secret that the Congress had collaborated with the UML at that time to defeat the most probable winner of the alternative party. Mishra has all the reasons for bitterness as the movement to build an alternative political force in Nepal hasn't gathered enough momentum; and when compared with the movement that Arvind Kejriwal led in Delhi, the Sajha Bibeksheel Party stands nowhere.

Reading too much into the response Thapa's critical health condition had created will be unwise. The reality is that the criminal-political nexus that is hardwired into Nepali society will fight tooth and nail not to let any alternative emerge; and combined with the flock of disinterested youths and degraded moral values and inefficient work culture in the society, the nexus grows ever stronger. There is a lot that the dark forces can feed on, and the rare ray of hope that virtuous leaders like Ujwal Thapa bring is the only weapon against them. The fight is steep, and the youths have to buckle up, learn fast from the failures and fight it hard. At a dark time when politics has failed the people miserably, Ujwal has brought hope in the injured conscience of the society, and hope can move mountains. And that will be his enduring legacy.  

A defining feature of Chinese diplomacy is that it sends signals to the intended country that signify a major change in its attitude to that country.  The most famous one being inviting Edgar Snow, the Mao-loving American journalist, to attend the annual military parade to mark the anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic in 1970. The Chinese released a photo of Snow standing alongside chairman Mao. They saw Snow as an important figure in America and hoped that the picture would signal to the Americans that China was not only willing to establish diplomatic relations with the US, but also to welcome a high-level US delegation.

But Snow was not an important figure in the US and as Henry Kissinger later wrote, at first nobody in the US understood what the Chinese were trying to signal with the photo and they (the Americans) understood its message fairly late. And there are numerous other instances of China’s signal diplomacy. (If you are particularly interested in China's signal diplomacy vis-à-vis Nepal, you can read about them here.)

China is signaling something to us and we got to understand it. After all, it’s an important neighbor and as things now stand, our only hope of getting corona vaccines quickly.

(A disclaimer first: Look, like many in Nepal, I too am clueless about what really happens in the halls of Baluwatar and Shital Niwas, and like many who write, I also write based on what I think really transpired, and like them, I too could be very wrong.)

It’s hard to believe that the telephone conversation between our President Bidhya Bhandari and President Xi Jinping was not preplanned. Many days and weeks were probably spent by our diplomats in Beijing and by Chinese diplomats in Kathmandu (or given the way we conduct our foreign policy these days, I wouldn't be surprised if it were the Chinese diplomats who did all the work.) This suspicion has some grounds. Think of it, otherwise, why would President Bhandari send a letter to her Indian counterpart requesting speedy delivery of vaccines just a day before the phone conversation with her Chinese counterpart? Maybe it was to signal to India that Nepali government was not going to switch sides. Or, by making her appear really concerned about the people, it was an attempt to improve her public image in Nepal where her popularity is at an all-time low.

Now the million-dollar question: why would the most powerful man in the world be willing to talk to our president when almost all reports point to PM Oli snubbing China's requests to do his most, even resign as either party president or prime minister, to save the unity of the party China invested heavily on?

Without a doubt, China is signaling something.

The most likely one being that despite what happened in Nepal, China is willing to work with the Oli government. Maybe China realized it is futile to get involved in Nepal's internal politics and no Nepali government, even one supported by India, would dare work against its legitimate interests in Nepal. Further, given India’s support for Oli, as suggested by India’s suspicious silence on Nepal’s recent political developments, the Chinese must have rightly calculated that he is going to call the shots for some time. And it is in their interest to engage with him. Could it be that China is signaling that from now on, it will follow its earlier hands-off approach in Nepal?

The second most likely scenario is that China wants to help Nepal deal with the covid pandemic by supplying us with the much-needed vaccines. But as a major global power, it wants Nepal to make an official request and let the world know about it. That would serve three purposes: Prove there are many countries that trust Chinese vaccines, and let others know that if you request from us, we would give you vaccines. Third, and most important, using Nepal as a successful model of Chinese vaccines would make India realize it’s limits in dealing with the pandemic and force it to rethink its opposition to Chinese vaccines. That would boost China’s international standing and soft power by many folds and force India to accept that its regional ambitions are unrealistic and misplaced as of now.

And my twisted skeptic brain has yet another theory. It is most likely but like I said, we can only make intelligent guesses and this too should not be overlooked.

China is giving us a million vaccines this time. Earlier it gave 800,000. That’s a total of 1.8 million doses. While it’s better than nothing and like all Nepalis, I am grateful to China for this kind gesture, the volumes are awfully low given our 30 million-plus people. Maybe the Chinese are signaling that more vaccines will follow only after the ouster of PM Oli, and it is their way of punishing him—or, the way Chinese like to put it, teaching him a lesson—for snubbing Chinese requests to step down. Maybe it signals a more hands-on approach on Nepal.

We don't need to wait long to decipher the Chinese signal. What the Chinese do and don't do would make us understand what they want in Nepal and their Nepal policy for at least 10 years to come.

Time and again, some ‘kanda’ (incident) brews up on Nepali social media. This week, someone with a pseudonym wrote a long post on Facebook about her abusive relationship. The post was full of heart-wrenching incidents she suffered in the past one year. There was a back and forth response from both the involved parties. 

The accused man accepted that the allegations were true to an extent, but he then blamed the woman for provoking him. Surprisingly and not so surprisingly, the whole community started offering their own verdict on the case. One common statement from male members who were judging the woman, “Why now?” or, “Why was she still in the relationship even after the first incident?”

This is a straight case of domestic violence where this woman was tortured, both physically and emotionally. Which made me think, why exactly do women stay in toxic relationships or abusive marriages? What could convince them psychologically and emotionally to be with a partner who constantly makes her life miserable?

When I asked a divorcee friend about this, referencing her abusive failed marriage, she said that as her father was extremely toxic, there was no male role model in her life. When she met this guy who claimed to love her, she thought she would never get someone better. And even when things went wrong, she constantly blamed herself for being a difficult person and for everything that was happening. 

Another reason she cited concerned children. Women are the nurturing gender and often, they feel that if the parents get divorced, the kid/s will suffer because of the shuffling between parents. They fear another parent’s absence might destroy the kid psychologically in the long run. They also consider the traumatization the kid/s have to go through living in this society where divorce/separation are still frowned upon.

When I asked the same question of other friends, they also pointed to the issue of financial dependence. Even in urban cities, many Nepali women decide to be homemakers and are financially dependent on their male counterparts. On the other hand, even if they are working, most of the time, the man is a bigger financial contributor to the family. This is how the society is shaped. Stepping out of that zone can be scary for women. So they compromise and stay in the marriage or relationship.

Another major factor we cannot ignore is how our societal beliefs are constructed. People not only look down on women who come out of a bad marriage but also on women who have a series of bad relationships. In this fear even the victims’ families convince them to stay and compromise. The family plays a vital role in the decision making of the women--to be or not to be in the toxic relationship. When families pull out from helping, the woman gets little or no support to make a decision. 

In an informal gathering at a friend’s place, one guest who was in a toxic relationship very light-heartedly said to a group of her friends, “You know girls why I don’t want to quit this relationship? Because I have already invested seven years training him to be with me. Now I don’t have the energy to train another man. In the end, they are all the same”.

Other guests were teasing and laughing but I couldn’t find any humor in it. Instead I found an exhausted individual who had given up on living. There might be many women who might relate to this story. Maybe you have a friend who is going through something similar or you could be that one. 

Interestingly, often, the male partners are very convincing. They vow not to repeat their mistake and to make things better. The reasons mentioned above play the devil’s advocate and as a safety measure, women decide to give it one more shot, and yet another… until they end up with severe depression.

Regardless of how many excuses and reasons we discuss, physical violence of any sort is unacceptable. And after that when a person musters the courage to come out of the toxicity, asking questions and giving unsolicited advice to go to the court and take legal action doesn’t make you a messiah. 

Sometimes they are so mind-screwed due to trauma and depression, the decision they take might be extreme or inconsistent: from expressing rage on social media and again deleting it due to peer and family pressure to self-harming. It is high time we stop questioning the victim: “why?”, “why now?”, or “why didn’t you?”. The burden is already too much for them to take. If we cannot help, it is better to just keep quiet. Silence is also a response and in this case, a better one rather than needlessly butting in and making things worse.

The writer is a businessperson by profession, prefers to be called connoisseur of DIY and recycle, and is mother to a golden retriever named Ba:la Princess