The joy of being the first

Karnali, the toughest terrain in Nepal, is home to the toughest people in the country. They are strongly built and well adapted to the rough weather and difficult landscape. Jumla, beautiful but harsh, is no exception. However, it is the most easily accessible district in the Karnali region in comparison to other districts (as far as I know). But still the accessibility is remoteness for people who have been living in cities.

Jumla is rugged but beautiful (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix

 

 

Aerial view of Jumla (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix

A British photographer based in Hanoi was marching with me to a lodge where we were to stay that night. We were literally clambering, hanging to the roots of shrubs and wild grasses, passing along a patch of gravel road swept away by a recent landslide. He was wearing crocs, though I had advised to wear trekking boots. On his shoulder hung a DSLR with a heavy lens. Thanks to the local guides, they took care of the tripods and his bag.

He was cursing and saying, “How come you guys work in this place? I am fumbling, even to walk.”

I just smiled. There was no other means to convince him.

As we reached the lodge, it was dark. We had a sumptuous supper, gathered around an improved cook-stove in the kitchen. It was chilling cold outside, but the fire and apple brandy helped us retain the heat in our bodies.

In the morning, everything was covered in a dense fog. We could feel the bitter cold. When we reached a wooden bridge over Tila River, the sun’s rays shone upon us. The water was sparkling greenish white and the sky was clear blue with fluffy white clouds soaring above our heads.

Jumla is awesome (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix

 

The sight was awesome! It was my first visit to Jumla and I was already comparing it with Switzerland. Even better, had it been through the technological development like the European countries.

The wooden bridge, the greenish white water, the horses grazing on the pastureland, the Mount Kanjirowa smiling in all whites – all were my first sightings. I have no words to express the joy. The joy of being the first to experience all those extraordinary moments.

Horses are a common sight in Jumla (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix

 

It was also first time for the photographer. He had never seen such beauty in his life and was clicking pictures leaving behind all the grudges that he had the day before. He had forgotten the pain of clambering and slipping in between at the landslide site.

Next day, after completing our work, we set to return to the Jumla headquarters. We again began the slow walk along the gravel road. The journey was lackluster and the road never seemed to end. We didn’t even meet a single person during our one hour walk.

But this time a luxury was waiting us at the landslide site where we had had a hard time crossing the stretch the day before. A jeep was parked next to the site. One of our local friends whistled and waved to the driver. But it was of no use. The driver didn’t hear our shouting, but he didn’t drive the vehicle either. He was waiting for passengers to fill the jeep which had carried a consignment of rice, tea, biscuits and other edibles for the small shops in the eastern part.

The driver and the helper, both were happy when we reached the jeep. For them we were the green hundred rupee notes. They exorbitantly charge the passengers on these routes. Firstly, no vehicles ply on those roads. Secondly, whenever a goods carrier returns, locals push each other to get on the vehicle. So that they can have a ride of lifetime. And for many it’s their first ride! 

Being foreigners, one of my friends and the photographer got the chance to sit next to the driver. We were thankful to the duo of driver and helper. They still had that sense of respecting foreigners as our guests. However, the helper didn’t leave a chance to get us packed like sardines at the back of the vehicle.

Mules carry the goods to remote places in Jumla (c) Sunil Sharma/Demotix

 

The back of the jeep was like a huge room with a single peeping window, most probably for letting the air in. We sat on the floor that was occupied a while ago by bags of rice and packets of tea and biscuits. The sacks and packets then were carried by mules to the final destinations. Ironically, the mule owners had occupied the place of those sacks and packets. They were happy to travel in a four-wheeler, man-made machine that runs on diesel, the oil from Gulf! 

The backyard was almost packed. As we drove to the Jumla headquarters, we came across a group of wealthy Jumlawasi (people from Jumla). They were riding sturdy horses, had on the robes of Lamas (the Buddhist priests), and were laden with expensive Tibetan jewelries.

Then there was a strange request. The horse riders stopped us and requested to be taken in. All of them – three old men in their seventies – dismounted from the horses and handed them to a young teenager travelling with them, to be towed to the headquarters.

The men, I could sense from their face, were happy more than any jolly person I had ever seen in my life. In spite of their old age, they were chirping like young boys. At every jolt of the vehicle their laughter rose to a higher level. At every jerk we had had a bad time adjusting ourselves to the vehicle floor. And it hurt badly each time. But the three men, with every jolt, seemed to grow younger and younger.

I was quite annoyed by their laugh and chatter but I didn’t want to hurt them. So, I asked politely, “Is this your first ride?”

Luckily, one of them could understand Nepali. There are still places in Nepal where people don’t speak Nepali. He translated it to other two and again all of them started laughing and nodding their heads in unison. He replied in broken Nepali, “Yes, young man, it’s our first ever ride.”

Then another man enthusiastically added to the conversation which was translated by the man speaking Nepali.

“It’s more than seventy years and this is the first time we are riding a jeep.”

“See, it’s so strange,” another man chipped in. “A metal box running on four wheels without any pulling or pushing. Men have turned into Gods. Seems they can build anything. Amazing!”

“We are from remotest part of Jumla, had only heard about the advancement of science and this is the first time we got an opportunity to experience it,” said the Nepali speaking man.

I could see the excitement in their faces. The joy that had taken them to their careless childhood days was immeasurable and inexpressible.

It was the joy of being the first.     

Photos used with permission (c) Sunil Sharma

सार्वजनिक यातायात, महिला सीट र जागरुकता

दिल्लीको गर्मी अनि कहालीलाग्दो ट्राफिक । बस कुर्दा कुर्दा दिक्क लागिसकेको थियो । मेरो साथी अमोद र म हमदर्दनगर स्टपमा डिटिसी (दिल्ली ट्रान्सपोर्ट कर्पोरेशन) को बस कहिले आउला र चढौला भनी बसेका थियौ । त्यही बसमा चढ्नुको उद्देश्य चाही बल्ल बल्ल बनाएको स्टुडेन्ट पासको सदुपयोग गर्नु थियो । त्यो पास बनाएको दिन त ऊ र म दिनभर सित्तैमा सम्पूर्ण दिल्ली घुमेका थियौ र लखतरान भएर निकै अबेर होस्टेल पुगेका थियौ ।

बल्ल एउटा सिपि (कनट प्लेस) जाने बस आईपुग्यो र हामी दुई भाइ लाग्यौ आफ्नो गन्तव्यतर्फ । बस लगभग भरिएको थियो तर महिलाका लागि आरक्षित दुई सीट चाहि खाली थियो । आरक्षित सीटमा नबसी हामी उभिइरहेको देखेर एक महिलाले भनिन्, “खडे क्यू हो ? बैठ जाओ, कोइ आए तो खाली कर देना ।”

कुरो ठिकै लाग्यो र हामी दुवै जनाले ती सीट कब्जा गर्यौ । अर्को स्टपमा दुई कलेजका छात्रा चढे । उनीहरुलाई देख्नासाथ हामी सीटबाट उठ्यौ । उनीहरु चाहि गमक्क पर्दै हामीलाई बसिरहन आग्रह गरे । अलिक टाठी चाहिले भनिहालिन , “देखिए, हम तो महिला पुरुष दोनो बराबर समझते है । कोइ और आए तो सीट खाली करदिजिएगा, फिलहाल आप बैठे रहो ।”

कस्ती उदार रहिछन् भन्दै हामी त्यही बसी रह्यौ ।

त्यो स्टप कट्नासाथ अर्को स्टपमा केही अधबैंसे महिला चढे । उनीहरुलाई देख्नासाथ हामी उठ्नमात्र के लागेका थियौ, एउटीले बसै थर्काउने गरी सराप्न थालिन्, “तुम्हारे घरमे मां बहन नही हैं क्या ? बेशरम की तरह बैठे हो और मासूम लडकियो को खडे रखे हो ?”

हाम्रो पक्षमा कोहि बोलिदेलान् भनेको त अघि हामीलाई बराबरीको पाठ पढाउने ती दुई बाला पनि खित्खित् हाँस्दै थिए । अरु सब चाहि हामीतिर टुलुटुलु हेर्दै थिए । मानौ हामी भरखर तिहाड जेलबाट भागेर आएका कैदी हौं । हामी दुवैको अनुहार हेर्न लायकको भएको थियो । लाजले राताराता ।

अलिक सफाइ दिन खोजेका मात्र के थियौ, फेरि बज्रपात भयो गालीको, “ नालायको, तुम जैसे लडको को तो सबक सिखाना ही चाहिए, क्यो बहनो ?” 

अब चाहि सबजना मिलेर हामीलाई भकुर्छन् जस्तो लाग्यो । तर एउटा बुढाले हाम्रो बचाउ गरे । “थ्यांक यू अंकलजी,” भित्रैदेखि भावविह्वल हुँदै भने मैले ।

अर्को स्टप आउनासाथ हामी बसबाट सुटुक्क झर्यौ र जिन्दगी भरि महिला सीटमा नबस्ने कसम खायौं ।

*****               *****               *****             

अहिले पनि जुनसुकै सार्वजनिक यातायातमा सवारी गर्दा ती महिला सम्झेर मेरो सातो जान्छ । तर नेपाली महिला सम्झेर टिठ लागेर आउँछ । पुरुषहरु चाहि महिलाका लागि आरक्षित सीटमा गमक्क परेर बसेका हुन्छन् र सीट छोड्ने नामनै लिदैंनन् ।

त्यसबेला ती दिल्लीवाली महिला झलझली याद आउछिन् । यहाँका महिला कहिले आफ्ना हकका लागि कुर्लने हुन् कुन्नि ?

एक पटक चाहिं साच्चिकै क्रान्तिकारी पुरुष भेटे । नेपाल यातायात सधैंझै भरिएको थियो र महिला सीट पुरुषहरुले ओगटेका थिए । महिलाहरु चाहि सकीनसकी झुन्डिएका थिए, पुरुषहरुको पेलमपेल भींडमा । ती भलाद्मीले आरक्षित सीटतर्फ औंल्याउँदै महिलाहरुलाई उक्साए, “हैन साथीहरु महिला सीटमा त कम्तिमा नबसिदिनोस्, ल दिदीहरु आफूले पाएको अधिकारको उपभोग त गर्नुस् ।”

उनको पहल नै धेरै थियो । अघिसम्म थुचुक्क बसेका सज्जनहरुले एक एक गरी सीट खालि गरिदिए र महिला दिदीबहिनीहरु आरामले बसे । आफूलाई नि भित्रैदेखि रमाइलो लाग्यो । बानेश्वरमा झर्ने बेला तिनी नजिक गए, हात मिलाए र भने, “तपाईंको पहलको लागि धन्यवाद, सबैले तपाईंले झै आवाज उठाए मात्र हाम्रो मति फेरिन्छ ।”

उनी मन्दमन्द मुस्काउँदै थिए भने वरपरका यात्रुहरु हामीलाई वाल्ल परी हेर्दैथिए ।

*****               *****               *****              

आरक्षणको कुरा गर्दा सबैजसो सार्वजनिक यातायातमा महिला, असक्त, अपांग भनी लेखिएको हुन्छ सीटहरुमाथि । विकासकर्मी भएको नाताले मलाई महिला, ज्येष्ठ नागरिक र सहायतायोग्य मात्र लेखिदिए हुन्थ्यो झै लाग्दछ । त्यसो गर्दा अपांगता र असक्तता लिएर बाँचिरहेका साथीहरुको मन त कुँडिने थिएन होला शायद ।

समयले र सिकाइले गर्दा होला, आजकल धेरैजसो माइक्रोका सहयोगीहरुले चढ्नेबेला नै महिला सीटमा नबस्नुहोला भनिदिन्छन् । धन्यवाद छ ती चालक , सहयोगी , संवेदनशील पुरुष तथा जागरुक महिला यात्रीलाई जसले आरक्षित सीटको महत्व बुझेकाछन् र परीआएको बेला अधिकार दिलाउन र लिन जानेकाछन् ।

अस्ति भर्खरै नेपाल यातायातमा एउटी दिदी भन्दैथिइन , “ल सर, महिला सीट चाहि छाडिदिनुपर्यो है, यो त हाम्रो अधिकार हो ।”

ती दिदीको जागरुकता देखेर साह्रै खुशी लाग्यो । धन्न उनी ती दिल्लीवाली महिलाझै चर्को स्वभावकी थिइनन् ।
मलाई सबै महिला ती दिदीझै भएको र अन्य देशमाझै पुरुषले स्वतस्फुर्त महिलालाई प्राथमिकता दिएको हेर्न मन छ । शायद चाडै नै त्यो दिन आउँला । आशा गरौ ।

शेक्सपियरको नगरीमा एक दिन

“४५० वर्षे तन्नेरी शेक्सपियर” — यो सन्देश बोकेको तुल शहरको मध्य भागमा गर्वकासाथ फहराउँदै थियो । सन् १५६३ मा यहीं स्ट्र्याटफोर्ड अपन एभनमा शेक्सपियरको जन्म भएको थियो ।

शेक्सपियरको शालिक

सफा सडक, हिड्नयोग्य पेटी, हराभरा घरहरु, स्वच्छ वातावरण अनि कलकल बग्दै एभन नदी । लण्डनको भीड र मानवसागर छिचोलेपछिको प्राकृतिक वातावरण निकै नै मनोरम थियो । 

चारैतिर पर्यटकको भीड देखिन्थ्यो । एभनमा पौडिरहेका हाँस र राजहाँस त्यसैगरी शेक्सपियरकै पालादेखि पौडिआएका होलान् भन्ने भान हुन्थ्यो । बीचबीचमा डुंगा खियाउँदै नदीको मध्यभागबाट जोडकासाथ हुत्तिदै गरेका टोलीहरु देखी हाँसहरु तर्सिन्थे अनि किनारा लाग्थे ।

नदीको किनारमा आफ्ना प्रियजनका सम्झनामा बेञ्च राखिदिने चलन रहेछ त्यहाँ । त्यही बेञ्चमा युवा जोडी प्रेमालाप गरिरहेका भेटिन्थे । कतै कतै अधबैंसे तथा बृद्धबृद्धा पनि आफ्ना कथा व्यथा साटासाट गरिरहेका भेटिन्थे ।



जोकरको मूर्ति

शेक्सपियर जन्मेको घर पुग्नुअघि जोकरको मुर्ति रहेछ । त्यसको फेदमा कुंदिएको भनाइ चाखलाग्दो रहेछ । “हे कुलीन मूर्ख, योग्य मूर्ख — मूर्खले आफूलाई विद्वान ठान्दछ तर विद्वानले आफू मूर्ख भएको जान्दछ ।” — शेक्सपियरको नाटक एज यू लाइक इटका जोकर टचस्टोनको भनाइ हो यो ।   

शेक्सपियरको जन्मघर

शेक्सपियर जन्मेको घर साधारण छ तर अहिलेसम्म जस्ताको त्यस्तै जोगाएर राखिएको छ । धन्य शेक्सपियर बर्थप्लेस ट्रष्ट, अहिले पनि त्यस घरमा मान्छे बस्छन् जस्तो लाग्छ ।

शेक्सपियरको जन्म भएको कोठा

शेक्सपियरका बाबु पञ्जा बनाउँदा रहेछन् । त्यही व्यापार बढाउँदै लगेर उनी धनाढ्य र समाजमा प्रतिष्ठित भएका रहेछन् । साधारण बनोटको त्यही घरमा शेक्सपियरको बालापन बित्यो र उनी संसारकै सर्वोत्कृष्ट साहित्यकारमा गनिनपुगे । अझ नाटकमा त उनलाई शायदै कसैले भेट्लान् ।

ओल्ड बैंक

शेक्सपियरको मोजाइक

उनी जन्मिएको घरबाट उनका नाटक मञ्चन हुने थिएटर जाँदा बीचमा ओल्ड बैंक भेटिन्छ । सन् १८१० मा स्थापित उक्त बैंकको प्रवेशद्वारमा शेक्सपियरको मोजाइक कुँदिएको छ । हुन त त्यहाँका प्रत्येक कुनाकाप्चामा उनको उपस्थिति रहेको छ तर हाल एचएसबिसि बैंक रहेको उक्त ठाउँ साल्भियाटिद्वारा बनाइएको शेक्सपियरको मोजाइकका लागि प्रख्यात छ । उक्त डिजाइन होली ट्रिनिटि चर्चमा रहेको शेक्सपियरको समाधि स्मारकसँग सम्बन्धित छ र त्यसैमा आधारित रहेको छ ।  

न्याशको घरमा अवस्थित म्यूजियम

न्याशको घर

न्यू प्लेसको बगैंचा

ओल्ड बैंकबाट अलिक हिडेपछि बाटोमा उनका नाता पर्ने न्याशको घर पर्दछ । न्याश उनका नातिनी ज्वाँइ थिए । त्यसको पल्लोपट्टि शेक्सपियरले आफ्ना अन्तिम दिन बिताएको घर थियो जुन अहिले छैन । घरको भग्नावशेषसँगै बगैंचा चाहिं घुम्नसकिन्छ । त्यसबेला न्यू प्लेस नामक उक्त घर स्ट्र्याटफोर्डकै दोश्रो ठूलो घर थियो । शेक्सपियर लण्डनबाट घोडा चढेर चार दिनमा स्ट्र्याटफोर्ड आईपुग्थे रे ।

थिएटर

थिएटर

न्याशको घर भन्दा अलिक पर रोयल शेक्सपियर कम्पनीद्वारा सञ्चालित थिएटर छ जुन चाहिं साच्चिकै भव्य छ । कति कलाकार हलिउड र अरु सिनेनगरीमा प्रवेश पाउन त्यहाँ नाटक खेल्छन्, प्रशिक्षित हुन्छन् । तर धेरै कम कलाकारले हलिउडमा ब्रेक पाएका रहेछन् । जसमध्ये एन्थनी हप्किन्स् र बण्ड सिरिजकी मनीपेनीले नाम र दाम दुवै कमाएका छन् । शेक्सपियर र उनका व्यवसायी साथीहरुले चाहिं त्यसबेला थेम्स नदीको दक्षिण किनारमा ग्लोब नामक थिएटर सञ्चालन गरेका थिए । 

थिएटरको ग्राउण्ड फ्लोरमा रोयल शेक्सपियर कम्पनीको  कोसेली पसल छ । त्यहाँ शेक्सपियरसँग सम्बन्धित कोसेलीहरु खरीद गर्न पाइन्छ । किताब, टि शर्ट, माला, कप, टाई जे खोज्नुस् , पाउनुहुन्छ । शेक्सपियरको अमिट छाप सहित ।

कलाकारका ड्रेस

त्यस पसलनिरै ड्रेसिङ्ग बक्स छ । त्यहाँ निःशुल्क शेक्सपियरका पात्रहरुले लगाउने लुगा, खुडा, तरबार र शीरपोष लगाएर फोटो खिच्न सकिन्छ ।

टावरबाट देखिने मनोरम दृश्य

रेस्त्रांबाट देखिने मनोरम दृश्य

थिएटरमै अवस्थित टावरमा चढी सम्पूर्ण शहरको मनमोहक दृश्यको रसास्वादान गर्न सकिन्छ । साथै टावरसँगै जोडिएको रेस्त्रांमा खाना खाँदै वरिपरिका ठाउँ पनि अवलोकन गर्न सकिन्छ ।    

होली ट्रिनिटि चर्च

थिएटरबाट नदीको किनारैकिनार हिंड्दा होली ट्रिनिटि चर्च पुगिन्छ जहाँ शेक्सपियरको समाधि रहेको छ । उनले यसै चर्चमा बप्तिस्मा प्राप्त गरेका थिए र त्यही उनलाई समाधिस्थ गरियो ।

लण्डनबाट स्ट्र्याटफोर्ड अपन एभन निकै टाढा छ र अफ पिक डेज अर्थात भीडभाड नहुने दिन बाहेक अरु दिन ट्रेन भाडा अचाक्ली महंगो भए पनि जानै पर्ने ठाउँ रहेछ । अझ साहित्यमा रुचि राख्नेका लागि त मक्का मदिना गए सरह हुन्छ त्यहाँ पुग्दाको क्षण । अनि ४५० वर्ष अघि जन्मिएका शेक्सपियरले आफ्ना पदचाप छोडेका ईंट्टा ईंट्टामा टेक्दा आफैभित्र शेक्सपियरको सिर्जनात्मकता समाहित भएझै लाग्दछ ।

Marry a girl who sets you free

The annual function celebration was in the full swing. The performers had kept the audience spellbound with their swashbuckling performances and the audience was begging for more with the shrieks of “Once more, once more”. 

A part of the “Mr and Miss Fresher”, the most handsome, beautiful and talented newcomers in the college, was a final round of aptitude test. The master of ceremony had a range of questions and the only one that I remember was, “Complete the one liner – If love is blind, marriage is…..”.

The would-be Mr Fresher had the apt reply, “An eye-opener”. And the stage burst into laughter, followed by ear-piercing whistles and cheering of the crowd. I dreaded marriage and the answer terrified me more than ever. 

Now don’t tell me you don’t dread marriage. There comes a point in your life when you have pressure surmounting from every nook and cranny – family, friends, relatives and of course, your colleagues at work. It’s really a tough task to decide marrying a girl with whom you promise to spend the rest of your life through all thick and thin.

I postponed marriage till the time I could bear the pressure from my family, peers and relatives. But later came to know that it wasn’t a good idea at all. Marriage is not an obligation to be afraid of and run away from. It’s a journey of togetherness, complementarities and compromises.

Here’s my experience – for the wannabe husbands.

Marry a girl who lets you do what you like the most. As the saying goes, “Do what your heart tells”, if your better half stops you from doing what you love, you end up being nobody and getting nowhere. One of my friends is a celebrity artist who has a passion for painting nudes. Luckily, the lady he has married is supportive and he paints his passion – in his studio – with the young models posing in nude. With her never-ending support, he has carved a niche among the budding artists.     

Marry a girl who doesn’t tie a GPS collar around your neck. I see guys changing from the day they tie the knot. If they are even an hour late to return home, their cellphones start ringing relentlessly. And it’s from their sweet wives! They can’t even enjoy a cup of coffee with their old buddies. They rush to homes as if they will kill a tiger for the dinner. Those who have cute little kids at home – it’s their small ones ringing and asking “Dad, when will you be home?” – with the mothers signaling to stick to “not late than an hour” in the background.

Marry a girl who holds your hand when you are feeling down. When men’s morale is low, they don’t need a shoulder to cry on but one to hold their hands and instill inspiration to walk ahead. I have seen women who are emotionally stronger than men and they don’t get disheartened even in the gloomiest situation. Your would-be life-partner should be there, at least, to keep you poking every second to overcome the sadness and leap out of the gloom. 

Marry a girl who compromises with your lifestyle. I was always worried about my career, status and earnings. So I postponed my marriage till I had all of them. And I was 30 years of age with strands of silver in my once jet-black hair, six-packs turned into a protruding belly and crow’s feet visible around outer corner of my eyes when I got married. However, I still didn’t have a car when I married. But the girl I married, sweet and beautiful, adapted herself to my lifestyle. We would travel in public vehicles and she never complained. Now I regret – why I postponed the marriage. I should have married earlier.           

Marry a girl who sets you free. I still remember the lines, “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If it does not come back, it was never meant to be”. It’s a matter of trust.  Trust is the cord that keeps both of you tied to each other. She will set you free if she really loves you. And you will never feel like you have shackles around your feet, which is the real situation for many of the husbands.  You will be free to move around, mingle with your friends and chase your passion.

Coming back to myself, marriage has really been an “eye-opener”, as the Mr Fresher had replied during the annual function of my college. It has opened up all the blind alleys in my life. And I now no more dread “marriage”. But the credit goes to my wife – she let me lead my life in my own terms from the day we married.   

So my piece of advice to all bachelors out there – Marry in time and marry a girl who sets you free. 

Walk like a penguin, fly like a bird and emerge fearless like a lion

An account of fear before a bungee jump, thrill during the freefall and triumph after the jump

If you look down from the suspension bridge, 160 metres above the snarling Bhotekoshi River, the rocks on the bank look like little pebbles and the width of the river narrows down to an arm’s length. The natural beauty of the surrounding is astounding but the height is terrifying. Even the fearless daredevils get goose-bumps looking down from the jumping platform on the middle of the bridge.

In spite of the terrifying height and the narrow gorge, you are tempted to embark on the jump of the lifetime.  To win over the fear in your heart. Such is the atmosphere with scores of people like you lined up on the bridge for the death defying jump.

When I first visited The Last Resort, the only bungee jump destination in Nepal boasting of the world’s third highest natural bungee jump and highest swing, I could not muster up the courage to jump from the bridge. The height and the fear overpowered me. Like most people going there, I said, “There’s always next time, and I will surely jump.”

I was determined and the determination took me back to the resort. This time I stopped at the platform, looked down from the bridge and tried to get accustomed to the height. Still I was afraid. Then I saw hordes of men and women jumping from the bridge, some screaming to overpower their fear and some enjoying to the hilt. Slowly, the fear started fading. The man inside me was saying, “Yes, I too can do it!”

In the morning, I was there, again on the bridge. The cool breeze swept past my face and this time, when I looked down from the bridge, I thought I would definitely do it. I had accustomed myself to the height.

After having a hearty breakfast, I lined up for my weight. It was 63 kilograms and the guy attending the weighing machine marked “B 63” with a marker on my right hand. B denotes bungee and the numerical your weight.

Then we gathered around the jump supervisor who briefed on the safety measures. The first thing he asked was whether we had any history of high/low blood pressure, epilepsy, back pain, ankle sprain or any injury happening not more than six weeks ago. None of us had any of the medical injury record except a colleague who had had an ankle sprain three weeks ago.

“Once you are harnessed with safety ropes, walk like a penguin and fly like a bird,” he was briefing. “Listen carefully to the jumpmaster’s instructions and go for it.”

He had loads of instructions like “Tip-toe to the edge of the platform”, “Don’t look down if you fear from heights”, “Look front, get your instep out of the platform”, “Lean your upper body towards front”, “Spread your arms”, “Take a deep breath and jump”.

After the instructions, we slowly walked to the bridge, like the gladiators emerging for the final fight. One by one, our team members jumped as instructed by the jumpmaster. And looking from the far end of the queue, everybody’s jump was perfect. Nobody panicked – each mustered up their courage and jumped.

Starting from the heaviest, finally it was my turn.

When I was harnessed and waiting for the crew to pull the bungee cord to be tied around my legs, I tried to cheer myself up. When the filming crew approached, I smiled, did a “Thumbs up” and uttered, “I will try to do a perfect jump.”

Finally, the crew tied the rope to my legs and I tiptoed to the edge of the platform like a penguin. As I approached the edge, my heart started beating. But I was confident, nothing will happen to me. I will be safe.

Spreading my arms like a bird, I was ready to soar at the platform’s edge. Now there was no fear inside me. I was determined.

Before the jumpmaster uttered “3…2…1…Jump”, I had already jumped.

The freefall was thrilling. I went down for three seconds. My arms were spread and I was feeling like a free person and as fearless like a lion. I wished the fall lasted for two seconds more.

When I was pulled up by the rebound, I was afraid a bit. But the tiny shred of fear vanished when I was lowered again.

I was hanging in the air, almost 160 metres below the bridge waiting for the crew to guide me to a bamboo pole. With no more fear, I was uttering my heart out to the GoPro camera fixed to my helmet.

It was a triumphant moment. I had defeated fear.

I had emerged as a different person, just in a matter of few seconds. I was ready to take on any challenge.

It’s only your mindset and the company around you to get determined. I am sure you too will enjoy the freefall to the hilt once you get yourself ready for the jump. And emerge a winner over the fear. That’s for sure! 

Here’s the video of my jump, I am sure you will be motivated.



About The Last Resort and the bungee jump
A beautiful three-hour ride from Kathmandu, Nepal, The Last Resort is located on top of a river gorge close to the Tibetan border. For more information visit their website.

Gandhi, freedom and a puff of cigarette

Lanky, gutsy and moody – these three words describe him the best. He was like a beanpole and I was a sort of Lilliput, standing next to him. He played snooker, roamed hostel premises with a cue stick and was a cigarette connoisseur. On the contrary, I pumped iron, scoured the library racks to glean books and was (and am) an avid reader. 

A common cord connected us – both of us were gregarious. In spite of having 15 Iranian friends, he liked to be in our company – the 10 something Nepalis. And it was because of the gatherings in our room – for a jam up, a puff of smoke and a peg of whiskey. 

Though all of his friends from Iran were teetotalers, he enjoyed sipping pegs of whiskey and puffing on cigarettes. During the drinking bouts, he used to twist his hips to the tunes of Bollywood songs and sway his arms listening Nepali folk songs. As the dusk would turn to dawn, drunk to the hilt, he uttered his favourite one-liner – “You guys are marvellous, f**k those hardliners!”

Though not a smoker, I liked his way of smoking and the round puffs of smoke hitting the ceiling. Not to mention, the congested room would turn into a luxurious lounge and the boys’ rants would seem to be an open concert.  

As we interacted, our bonds grew stronger and we started sharing the secrets – of family, friends and philosophy. One day he revealed his true identity. He was son of an Iranian minister. His father was liberal and never stopped him from taking on risky adventures.

As a result, he was caned when he first took a glass of beer (I forgot how many times he was caned). Later, he had to spend his time behind bars for taking a peg of whiskey. But his father never stopped him. Instead he said, “Son, go to India, the largest democracy in the world and you will see what a democracy is.”

Gandhi had been an inspiring figure for his father and he always insisted him (my friend) to go to the country inspired by Gandhi and see the kind of freedom people exercised there. So, one day he packed his bags and set off for the destined land.

When he landed in New Delhi, he got to see the freedom – the everyday freedom of speech (he could utter those f-words and likes anywhere with no restraint), the freedom of pace (the cows and vehicles competing for the patch of road) and of course, the freedom to act (he could now gulp endless glasses of beer and pegs of whiskey without any fear of being caned or put behind bars).

Then came the real moment, as he says, when the true colours of democracy unfolded before him. One day he was smoking nonchalantly at front of the hostel gate and was caught in the act by the hostel warden, a short and stuffy man with henna dyed hair and beard.

The warden thought he would throw the cigarette and run away. But it didn’t happen. My friend continued smoking. As if the warden was a mere visitor to the hostel, he didn’t give a damn.

The warden was miffed. He demanded, “Do you know who I am?”

My friend replied, “No, so what?”

“I am the warden and I can suspend you for smoking in hostel premises.”

“But there’s nowhere written that I can’t smoke here. I am smoking and will smoke. So what?”

“It’s not written but you should know and follow the rules. Drinking and smoking is strictly prohibited here.”

“So what? Do whatever you want to do.”

Soon after, the Vice Chancellor got wind of the incident. Might be it was the warden who took it to him. The VC, influential and strict, was a man of morals. The warden won and my friend lost. He was required to submit an explanation. 

So he drafted the reply. Starting with what his father had told him before he set off for India, his expectations and aspirations, what he found out in reality, he jotted down all. His last sentence quoted, “I was disallowed even basics of freedom and am fed food that is not even thrown at my dogs back in Iran.”

He copied the explanation to the Ambassador of Iran to India and even to the Prime Minister of India. Hilarious it was when we saw the Xerox copies of the explanation pasted around the hostel walls and college premises. In the meantime, as fellow friends, we sided with him. And thought – he was logical.

The same evening, a team from Embassy of Iran visited the hostel, to check on the facts mentioned by him in his copied letter to the ambassador. Unfortunately, the hostel food, which used to be good by local standards, was a mess. The chowmein served was not cooked properly, the chicken leg pieces still had blood clots and the plates were not clean, which never happened earlier. The team decided. My friend was right. The food served to the hostellers was indeed a dog food.

It was just the beginning of tussle between our college management and the embassy. My friend, a soft and kind person from inside though he looked snob from outside, intervened. He withdrew his admission and requested the parties not to get entangled in the unwanted debate. He had seen and felt much freedom in India than back in Iran.

I felt bad. For him and his career. He could have earned a Master’s degree and taken back with him the inspiration from India. He could have debated with his father back in Iran about Gandhi, the largest democracy called India and freedom. But it was all gone. Gone in a puff of cigarette.    

सार्वजनिक यातायात चढ्दाको सकस

(c) Flickr/Zionorbi

“बरु आप्पा शेर्पालाई सगरमाथाको चुचुरोबाट झर्न सजिलो होला, नेपाल यातायातको लास्ट सीटबाट ओर्लन चाहि सकिन्न,” अन्तिम सीटमा बसेका एक यात्रीले यति के भनेका थिए , बसमा हाँसोको बम पड्कियो ।

अर्कोले थपिहाले, “आप्पालाई लास्ट सीटमा राख्ने हो भने स्योर लास्ट हुन्छन् । ”

थप हाँसो गुञ्जियो कोचाकोच बसमा । तपाई आफै अनुमान लगाउन सक्नुहुन्छ, सार्वजनिक यातायातको भीड ।

यो त भयो राजधानीको कथा । एक पटक तराईतिर झरेर हेरौ ।

म सप्तरीको रुपनीबाट राजबिराज जान म्याजिक कुर्दै थिए । म्याजिक भन्नासाथ जादू चाहि नसम्झिनुहोला , यो टाटा कम्पनीले ढुवानी सरल बनाउन लञ्च गरेको सानो गाडी हो ।

भीडको कुरा त्यो पनि तराईमा, व्यर्थको गन्थन मात्र हुन्छ । तराईका बाटा जति सम्म र सिधा हुन्छन्, गाडी त्यति नै विरल । अनि किन नहोस् त भीड ।

म केवल कुरिरहे म्याजिकहरु आउँदै गए, जाँदै गए । तर सीटको त के कुरा, ढोका, पछाडि, छत, कतै झुण्डिन समेत पाइएन । हार खाएर एक भद्र पुरुषसँग लिफ्ट मागे, काठमाडौंबाट विस्थापित आरएक्स बाइकमा ।

नारायणगढबाट आरुङ्गखोला चल्ने महिन्द्रा र शेर्पा जीपका कथा पनि उस्तै छन् । गाडी भरिसकेको हुन्छ तैपनि खलासी चिच्याइरहेको हुन्छ ।

“सीट छ ?” भनेर कसैले सोधिहाल्यो भने “सीट छ तर खालि छैन,” रेडिमेड जवाफ हुन्छ खलासीको मुखमा ।
त्यस लगत्तै जीपमा सवार यात्रुबीच हाँसोको बिस्फोट । हामी कतिसम्म उदार छौ भने अरुले आफूलाई ठग्दैगरेको जान्दाजान्दै पनि ऊसँगै हाँस्छौ आफू जस्तै अरुलाई ठग्न खोज्दा ।

त्यस्तै नेपालगञ्जबाट सुर्खेत जाने बसमा चढ्नुभो भने चिसापानीको बर्दिया राष्ट्रिय निकुञ्ज सुरक्षार्थ राखिएको ब्यारेकनेर पुग्नासाथ कण्डक्टर कुर्लन्छ, “कोलियाको सबजना झर्ने ।”

कोलिया भनेको चाहि दूवैतिरका सीटको बीचमा हिड्नका लागि खालि छोडिएको ठाउँ रहेछ । सैनिक जवानले गाडी जाँच गरुञ्जेल यात्रुहरुले जाँच सीमाना पार गर्नुपर्ने हुन्छ, त्यो पनि पैदल । बस फेरि हर्रे पुगेपछि त्यहि प्रक्रिया दोहोरिन्छ । बसवालाको बढी भन्दा बढी पैसा कमाउने लोभले गर्दा बित्थामा यात्रुले सास्ती झेल्नुपर्छ ।   

सार्वजनिक यातायातमा महिलाको पीडाको त कुरै नगरौ । महिला लेखिएको सीटमा निर्धक्कसाथ बसेका हुन्छन् पुरुष । कोहि महिला आइन् भने सीट छोड्ने त परै जाओस्, निर्लज्जतापूर्वक नियाली नियाली घुर्छन् ।

कति त कतिसम्म गर्छन भने जहाँ जहाँ महिला उभिएका हुन्छन् त्यहीनिर टाँसिन जान्छन् । एउटा मित्रले साह्रै नमिठो तर हाँसो उठ्ने अनुभव सुनाए ।

बस एकनासले गुड्दै थियो । एक अधबैंसे तर राम्री महिला सीट नपाएर उभिएकीरहिछन् । एक त पहाडी मार्ग त्यसमा पनि खुट्टै टेक्न नसकिने भीड । जसो तसो ती महिला नजिकैको सीटमा अडेस लगाएर उभिएकीरहिछन् । एउटा निर्लज्ज पुरुष चाहि मौकाको फाइदा उठाउँदै उनीसँगै उभिएको रहेछ, जति भीड बढ्दै गयो त्यो त्यति बेस्मारी टासिंदै गयो ती महिलासँग । 

आखिर आजित भई उनले कण्डक्टरलाई डाक्दै भनिन्, “हेर् न भाइ अघिदेखि यो मुन्छेले ठेल्याठेल्यै छ ।” अनि ती गाउँले दिदीले थपिन्, “यल्ले अघि देखिन आफ्नो ....ले  ठेल्याठेल्यै छ ।” 

उनको यस वाक्यले सम्पूर्ण बसमा स्तब्धता छायो, त्यो पुरुष चाहि लाजले रातोपिरो भयो । अनि लुरुक्क परेर अर्को स्टपमा ओर्लियो । धन्यवाद ती साहसी दिदीलाई । 

नाइट बसमा त झन पातकीहरुले गर्नु गर्छन । आफूसँग महिला परिन् भने त छामछुम गर्न भ्याइहाल्छन् ।

एक पटक नेपालगञ्ज जाँदा गजबको घटना घट्यो । मेरो सीट अघिल्तिर एक युगल जोडी बसेको थियो । तिनीहरु छिल्लिएको देख्दा या त नवविवाहता नत्र प्रेमी प्रेमिका हुनुपर्ने सम्पूर्ण यात्रुको अड्कल रहेको थियो । हुन पनि किन नहुनु , केटी केटाको काखमा मस्त निदाएकी थिइन भने केटोले ग्वार्लाम्मै अंगालो हालेको थियो ।

बिहान नेपालगञ्ज आइपुग्दा पो खाटी कुरो खुल्यो । केटो भन्दै थियो , “खुरुक्क मेरो मोबाइल देऊ ।”

केटीले तुरुन्त जवाफ फर्काइ, “अझ लाज छैन, रातभरि मस्ति गर्यो अनि मोबाइल पनि माग्छ ।” “के प्रमाण छ, तेरो मोबाइल भनेर ? यसमा मेरो सीम छ र मेरै हो । बढ्ता भइस् भने गोदाइ भेट्लास् ।”

केटो केहि नबोली लुत्रुक्क पर्यो । केटी झरिसकेपछि उसले गुनासो पोख्यो , “हेर्नुस् न, राति कतिखेर हो कुन्नि मोबाइल झिकेर सीम फ्यालिछ, मेरो भर्खर चालिस हजार तिरेर किनेको मोबाइल ।”

केटोलाई अञ्जान केटीसँगको रोमान्स महंगै परेछ । 

महिला पनि कहिले काहि अति गर्छन् । खास गरेर टेम्पो भरिएको देख्दादेख्दै पनि पछाडि झुण्डन्छन् । अनि कहिले काहि महिला सीटमा बसेका युवतीहरुमाथि नै खनिन्छन्, वृद्ध पुरुषका लागि सीट छाडिदिन । महिला सीट त महिलाहरुको अधिकार पो हो त, अशक्त र वृद्धका लागि त अलग्गै सीट आरक्षित हुन्छ ।

सार्वजनिक यातायातको अर्को सकस भनेको यात्रुलाई मानिस नठानी पैसासँग दाज्नु हो । एक पटक मैले सुनेको संवाद ः कण्डक्टर भन्दै थियो, “एक छिन गुरुजी १५ रुपैयाँ आउँदैछ ।”       

फेरि नेपाल यातायातकै प्रसंग ः कण्डक्टर भन्दै थियो, “दाइ अलिक सरौ न क्या, कति भन्ने, सुन्नुहुन्न ? ”

एउटा हाजिरजवाफी यात्रुले भन्न भ्याइहाले, “ए भाइ ह्याकसँ ल्याउन, पछाडिको भीत्ता खोस्रिउ । ”

बसमा फेरि हाँसोको फोहोरा छुट्यो ।

यो चाहि सुखद पक्ष हो सार्वजनिक यातायात चढ्दाको ।   

@sankuchy @DhakalSaurav the best idea is not to hop into any vehicle that is already full.
— Swapnil A (@swopz) March 3, 2014

“बरु आप्पा शेर्पालाई सगरमाथाको चुचुरोबाट झर्न सजिलो होला, नेपाल यातायातको लास्ट सीटबाट ओर्लन चाहि सकिन्न,” http://t.co/USf2HHj1Ht @sankuchy
— Saurav Dhakal (@DhakalSaurav) March 3, 2014

Post by Saurav Dhakal.