For the love of cows

Schau mir in die Augen, Grosse or Look me in the eyes, Big. (literally)

It’s been a while since I quit my job at the newspaper. But I still start my day by skimming through the papers even when I do not understand the language. So here’s a picture published in 20 Minuten: News Von Jehzt (News of now /Current News), a morning newspaper the size of Saptahik or Shukrabar in Nepal, you can pick up at tram/bus stops or in the buses and trams for free. This paper, along with another one people get to read in the evening is more similar to our Sandhyakalin than Kantipur.

This picture caught my attention yesterday for the obvious reason, it depicts the literal love of cows. Or perhaps it’s just a show of love for these animals because cows, making promises to farmers for better milk prices, subsidies are all integral to Swiss politics.

And after months of ‘thinking’ of blogging something about this new journey of mine am glad this cow made me actually do it. So, Hoi from Zurich,  a rich, self-contained bubble in the larger European bubble called Switzerland. I will, hopefully, write more about my experiences here in the days to come.


Sense of an ending in Kathmandu #NepalEarthquake

With the recent devastation of the historic national heritages, I have developed a new sense of loss

The Laxminarayan Temple in front of the Garuda is no more.

The Laxminarayan Temple in front of the Garuda is no more.

KATHMANDU, APR 27 – This is undoubtedly the worst possible time to admit this. But given the times we are living in, there is no better time to acknowledge it.

I have always felt uneasy with the portrayal of the Kathmandu Durbar Square as the face of Kathmandu. Not that I have not spent innumerable mornings, afternoons and evenings loitering aimlessly at the Square. It is not as if I have not spent many hours sitting at the Maju Deval facing different directions depending on my mood either: facing the buildings behind when not in the mood to look at people, a different side not to disturb lovers or just staring ahead at the people, feeling the wind and watching life go by. On different steps of the Deval and the surrounding temples, I have met different friends to discuss different issues: a career, development, relationships and death, and unwillingly gulped down many cups of tea.

Still, my question has always remained: must we always justify our love of Kathmandu in relation to the cup of tea we sipped on the steps of the Laxmi Narayan temple? Does all writing about Kathmandu have to justify one’s love of the Durbar Square or situate itself in the alleys of Asan? What about the Kathmandu beyond the stretch of the stone-paved path from Juddha Salik to a temple called the small Pasupatinath? On other days, when discussion on Twitter inadvertently veered towards accusing ‘Kathmandu’ of not doing this or that, I have wondered what Kathmandu is. Is it a collection of white buildings inside Singha Durbar? Is it Baluwatar? Or is it the millions that live in tiny rented rooms in the city or migrants from elsewhere who now have a ghar in Kathmandu? Can the city be what it is by excluding any one of these?

The end of an era: Dharahara is no more.

The end of an era: Dharahara is no more.

But when I first saw Dharahara missing from the city’s landscape, I was very clear as to what Kathmandu is or was. (more…)

Bhaktapur in ruins

The well preserved ancient city of Bhaktapur lost some of its old and traditional buildings in yesterday’s earthquake. The devastation of some of the structures like the Batsala Durga temple in the famed Darbar Square was a heart-wrenching sight. I had spent several peaceful evenings there. However, to see the majestic Nyatapola still standing tall was heartening. A Chinese couple was busy taking photos in front of the intact Nyatapola. An abandoned chariot stood in-front of it. A rest-house right next to the Taleju temple had collapsed. During the Dashain festival that is where old men and women gathered, played instruments and sang bhajans. Locals had gathered at the square to escape the aftershocks. On my way back, I saw many old buildings along the old highway (purano bato) damaged severely. In one of those houses, three rabbits were staying still in a perilous place just below a window.

शुभ दशैँ

गुन्द्रुक , dashain, gundruk आजको खाजा – गुन्द्रुक

यस ब्लग हेरिरहनु भएका सबैजनालाई विजयादशमी २०६८ को हार्दिक मंगलमय शुभकामना ।