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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.

It’s approaching the time of year when there is a change-over in expats. Every summer, or mon­soon if you wish, expats come to the end of their work contracts in Nepal and move on to their new postings. And every September or so, new people arrive. It’s exhaust­ing. Which is why I really don’t get to know the new arrivals too readily. It’s just, as I said, exhausting and heart-breaking. But it’s an annual migration and one I’m quite used to. However, over the past couple of years there has been a massive exodus of foreign residents leav­ing Nepal. Partly this is because of the earthquake. Not that many left directly after the quake—there was just too much help needed to aban­don ship at that point. Interestingly, I’m not aware of a real increase in numbers leaving the following year either. But since 2017 I cannot even count how many friends, includ­ing those who have been here for considerable time, have left. And suddenly, it seems not just foreign­ers but locals too. There are sev­eral contributing factors of course, safety (aftershocks still going on), pollution (health being affected), politics, and just plain having had enough of inflationary prices not matched by incomes or services.

I feel like I am being left on the ship while others are swimming for the life rafts. Of course the log­ical thing to do is go out there and meet those newcomers. Easier said than done. Those foreign res­idents who have been here for a number of years ‘know’ the coun­try and its people. The newbies are dazzled by what is in front of them—the glass shopping malls, high-rise apartment blocks, zillions (its seems) of cars and bikes on the road, fancy restaurants, and expen­sive night clubs. They don’t know the history of the country, haven’t lived the history of the country, and don’t know the complexities of the people. Yes, most likely they will learn some of this, but by then their time is up and off they go. Again, leaving the rest of us, who imparted some of this knowledge as well as our time and energy, feeling used and exhausted.

When I first moved to Kathmandu there were very limited places to meet people. Even Thamel had very little to offer. I used to hang out in Lazimpat at Gallery 9—owned by nine Nepali friends interested in, or involved in, the arts. When not at the gallery, we used to meet up in the Lazimpat Gallery Café across the road, which held regular music nights which attracted foreigners as well as locals. The Sterling Club at the British Embassy was open to expats and Nepalis alike, serv­ing lunches, dinners, and drinks every day. It also had regular social gatherings such as Scottish ceilidhs (dances), amateur plays, quizzes and even, at one point, Bollywood dance lessons.

The result of there being fewer places to go—for example Jham­sikhel did not have the restaurants, bars and cafes it has nowadays—meant people gathered in four or five places. Thus, it was easy to meet new, interesting characters, either like-minded or completely off-the-wall. For it is true that Nepal attracts the more unusual types from around the world—from the hippy, Buddhist, wannabe sadhu, poet, and artist, to those who want to save our souls or are looking for their own salvation.

Today there are a plethora of places to socialize in, which of course dilutes the pond so to speak. And being quite introvert anyway, I find it hard to break the ice with people—especially if I know they are going to leave in a couple of years. So what is the solution? Answers in the comment section please!

Biopic Drama

SANJU

CAST: Ranbir Kapoor, Paresh Rawal, Vicky Kaushal, Anushka Sharma, Manisha Koirala

DIRECTION: Rajkumar Hirani

The turbulent off-screen life of Sanjay Dutt is the fodder for the new Rajkumar Hirani film ‘Sanju’. Hirani, known for his lighthearted moral entertainers that gave us such iconic protago­nists as the lovable gangster Munna Bhai (immortalized by Sanjay Dutt), the rebel engineer Rancho and the puzzled alien PK, backtracks to explore his frequent collabo­rator’s inner world in this highly fictionalized biopic. In less than three hours, Hirani and his co-writer Abhijat Joshi selec­tively piece together the film’s plot around key moments in Dutt’s trou­bled life: his battles against drugs and alcohol, his relationship with his father Sunil Dutt and mother Nargis, and his alleged involvement in the 1990s’ terrorist attack in Mumbai. The film does not intend to make the audience sit through a docu­mentary on the actor. Instead Hirani tries everything to elicit humor and sentimentality over Dutt’s tragic and bleak life experiences.

From the trailer, it was evident that this wouldn’t be a straightfor­ward biopic, and it isn’t. It’s struc­tured as Dutt’s retelling of his past. To do that Hirani comfortably settles in to the voice-over narrative device to allow Sanjay Dutt (played effort­lessly by an in-form Ranbir Kapoor) to guide and provide a commentary on events that made him Dutt he’s today or, in his own words, “the bad choices that shaped his journey”.

An early scene has Dutt getting upset about his autobiography titled ‘Babagiri’ which compares him to Mahatma Gandhi in its opening chapter itself. “I don’t want to be portrayed as a saint,” he declares and begins assaulting the writer (Piy­ush Mishra in a cameo) and burns all the copies of the book. This scene is clearly plugged to speak on behalf of Hirani’s approach; in making a point that ‘Sanju’ is not a hagiography like ‘Babagiri’. But no matter how hard Hirani tries not to pay homage to Dutt’s legacy, his personal close­ness to his subject keeps him from honestly portraying Dutt’s persona.

Hirani is least bothered about human complexities and exagger­ates from each bad chapter in his subject’s roller-coaster life. But I don’t hold this against the director. Though Hirani is shallow on char­acter study, he makes up by adding emotional heft to the scenes. Tear­jerker moments cleverly punctuate the film, and the one that stands out is the scene when Sanju’s dying mother Nargis (Manisha Koirala), who is full of verve, tries not to let her illness loom over her son’s bud­ding career. Sanju’s close friend­ship with his loyal friend Kamlesh (played by an equally remarkable Vicky Kaushal) is also a highlight.

But the glue that holds the film is Ranbir Kapoor. Kapoor portrays Dutt with genuine boyish charm and restraint. I couldn’t imagine anyone else in that role. There’s an ease on screen while Kapoor takes us through Dutt’s journey. Kapoor’s performance goes beyond imitating Dutt’s body gestures. Kapoor in fact brings genuine empathy to the char­acter that compels you to stay with him in his moments of despair, inad­equacy, fear and low self-esteem.

‘Sanju’ might not be a no-holds-barred depiction of Sanjay Dutt’s real life. It is however bookmarked with many heartfelt as well as funny scenes that will keep Dutt’s episodic journey interesting, albeit there’s always a sense of disbelief about Hirani’s broad-brush treatment of his subject. Take it as a large-scale Bollywood version of Sanjay Dutt’s life, and ‘Sanju’ offers lots of enter­tainment value.

Who should watch it?
Though it’s a biopic about Sanjay Dutt, ‘Sanju’ shares its DNA with past Rajkumar Hirani films. It might be not that truthful in unearthing deep secrets about Dutt’s life but viewers who enjoyed Hirani’s past films would definitely find ‘Sanju’ an engaging entertainer.

A flag-carrier is generally taken as a means of trans­port that is an iconic representation of a country. The term is perhaps more applicable in shipping, whereby ships actually fly the flag, even though most merchant ships get reg­istered in Panama as a matter of convenience. The hassle-free registration there helps them avoid strict regulations as well as income tax and to hire cheap foreign labor. In airlines, the rules are more stringent. But just being registered does not guarantee an airline the coveted sta­tus. Himalaya Airlines is not Nepal’s flag-carrier even if it is registered here. But flag-carriers are generally treated like pampered child, with the state forced to meet their just and unjust demands alike.

Need for constant backup financ­ing, at the expense of taxpayers, is the usual mode by which they survive even when in red. But even then many countries continue to protect and support failing flag-car­riers. Our flag carrier, known in short as the RA, is no different. It carries an additional uncertainty tag with its tiny fleet that, at times, fails to keep the date.

There was recently an immense interest in the Indian government’s efforts (GoI) to privatize Air India (AI), a behemoth public sector undertaking. It would not be a complete disinvestment as the GoI would still hold 24 percent shares and also seats on its board. But the disinvestment could not happen and many saw it as an aborted take-off. In reality, the situation was more akin to an aircraft left stranded on a parking bay.

Neither domestic nor foreign car­riers showed any interest in taking the “debt laden” undertaking (in spite of some debt reduction). Indi­go and Jet Airways had shown some interest initially but they were not comfortable with various conditions that were attached.

The submission deadline for potential buyers came and went and with the general election next year the BJP government thought it unwise to push it any fur­ther. The disinvestment would have been impossible, as it is, given the short timeframe.

AI has a total of InRs 44.19 thousand-crore of loan, of which Rs 25.8 thousand-crore is for existing and future fleet, while 13.6 thousand-crore is non-con­vertible debentures (NCDs). It is believed that the inability to make profit had hindered collection of debenture redemption at IA, while serious cash flow situation delayed even salaries.

As for RA’s financial health, its cumulative loss stands at Rs 0.100865 thousand-crore. The government has invested 0.294 thousand-crore in it while its mid/short term loan stands at 1.096 thousand-crore (as per the 2017 Auditor General’s report). As we see, beyond their common flag-carrier status, AI and RA are not comparable. The above data clearly shows the contrast in the sheer scale of AI and RA, even though the two suffer from basically the same kind of malaise.

RA is reported to have made a profit of Rs 16.1m. (It is deliberately not expressed in thousand crore, to make it look less dismal.) RA has been unable to optimize the use of its Airbus A320s. The new A330s it is acquiring will also face similar problems, with the European skies still forbidden for Nepali carriers. The prospects of A330s flying to destinations outside Europe are also rumored to be dim.

In general, airlines do not make money as a major portion of their earnings is spent on fuel, staff and essential hardware. The debt arises due to the exorbitant cost of aircraft and years of unprofitable service. Low cost and private carriers have been encroaching on flag-carrier’s traditional domain. If a route is good, someone will fill the gap with cheaper offerings and most travelers end up better off as a result.

It was necessary to prop up flag-carriers when the airline indus­try was just in its infancy. But why should they continue to operate in places where non-flag carriers are now willing to fly cheaply? Flag-carriers are also useful in serv­ing remote regions of a country like ours, but there is no point in maintaining it beyond that. As we all know, there are other murky reasons behind RA’s link to national pride. Call it anything you like, we just want an airline that can fly on its own wings.

The author writes on aviation

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