Getting around the ‘Nepali time’

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.”