Sunday, March 17, 2024

Echoes of buwa’s motorcycle

I’ll never forget the smell of his Hero Honda bike, reminiscent of stale Yak cigarette. It evoked ancient memories of weekend visits filled with ice creams and butter chicken for dinner. I was fond of munching on traditional Nepali baara (Black Gram lentil Pancake), especially when baked with peanut butter—a treat buwa's girlfriend would cook on Saturday mornings.

It was an old model of Honda, two-toned with the colours of the lake and an overly saturated sky. The Hero Honda was quickly made rideable again; its forks were replaced, brakes repaired and the dry tyres filled with air. As a child, too young to be there legally, I would sit on the bike’s back seat, playing alone. Buwa would reach over to tuck me in, and I would catch the scent of cigarettes on his black leather jacket.

The Hero Honda bike was a recurrent topic in our sporadic conversations, particularly when I was permitted to visit buwa and during our occasional phone calls over the past few years. Buwa would update me on his progress toward our shared goal of riding bikes together.

On a motorcycle, travelling was an act of freedom. Buwa was free to match the pace of the slowest common denominator. Sometimes, I felt he enjoyed the solitude.

He’d smoke while we rode, whether a brief five-minute ride to the Bhatbhateni market or a four to five-hour journey to my grandparents’ house in Ranighat, Birgunj. With his cigarette hand hanging out, the wind whisked the ash into the crisp summer air.

He’d play old Bob Dylan songs on the Sony portable cassette player. As traffic congested the downtown region, buwa would sharpen his focus, adeptly navigating through the throng of vehicles with a calculated anticipation of other drivers’ actions. He’d sing along to each scratchy tune, elongating each word, and always turn to smile at me in the back seat.

“Sing it again, buwa!” I’d squeal, almost on cue. And he’d happily oblige, rewinding the track to start over.

In Birgunj, the chaos of urgent life caused rules to dissolve. Pedestrians weaved between gridlocked bullock carts, cyclists ignored traffic lights and drivers struggled to manoeuvre their oversized vehicles. Amid it all, buwa manoeuvred like a maverick on two wheels, expertly slipping through the urban labyrinth, balancing speed and safety.

I’d trace patterns in the fog on his black leather Hero Honda jacket, pressing my fingers against it to see how long the imprint would last before it faded from the cold or my boredom. The leather was worn, cracked and peeling. Unnoticed, I’d peel off tiny slivers and hide them, along with lollipop stems from the bank teller and candy wrappers, in the secret space between the seat and the console.

During those court-mandated visits, I could only see the best in him as a child.

Sometimes, we’d set out before noon, when the temperature was still bearable and buwa would coax me to join him for a joyride on the Hero Honda. His reserved demeanour concealed a smiling heart that was always ready for adventure.

He would pull back a tarp covering the bike and use a crusty rag to wipe off the layer of mud that had settled on everything in his driveway—his idea of tidying up.

“Do you have a real helmet?” I asked, hoping for something more protective than the rickety bucket I knew he wore. Instead, he pulled out a motocross helmet two sizes too big for my head and a pair of tinted safety glasses.

“Gloves?”

Buwa did a lap around the garage, producing various work gloves, none suitable for operating a motorcycle clutch. I didn’t bother asking for leathers. Even if he had a jacket, it would have been comically oversized on me and the summer temperature was climbing. So, ignoring my reservations, I sat on the Hero Honda dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and Hathi Chhap chappal (slippers).

After that summer, he stopped coming for his weekends with me. Aama said he had started truck driving again, his route spanning east to west, making it seem like I was out of the way. I forgave him and hoped he would show up again unannounced.

But as more summers passed, my hope dwindled and I stopped expecting anything from him. All I knew of him were the rumours between the neighbours, the insults aama would hurl when she drank too much and the fading memories of our bike rides.

A decade had passed, each year weaving its thread through the tapestry of his existence until the fabric of his lifestyle frayed and unravelled. Then, amidst the remnants of his once-vibrant days, a weathered will emerged, a testament to his legacy, quietly nestled between the yellowed leaves of a forgotten phone book in the dim corner of his apartment.

I received a phone call from a lawyer in a town I had never heard of.

A few weeks later, I found myself standing in a parking lot, handed the keys to the bike I had assumed he had gotten rid of decades ago.

I realised how the scent had remained unchanged after so long and at that moment, my mind drifted back to those days. Weekend road trips. Sony’s portal cassette player serves as a music player in the wild. My fingers peeled back the leather. Buwa by my side. Those memories were the ones I cherished and kept to myself, hidden in a place no one could reach—a lonely alley in the memory lane only I could access.

The upholstery was unkempt, tickets from years past strewn across the dashboard, frozen in time. The motorcycle’s odometer was stuck on a number I no longer remembered.

The woman at the Everest hotel where I stayed said it was acceptable to sell the bike from the premises—she had known my buwa, but I never inquired how. So, I placed a sign on the windshield that read ‘For Sale—NPR 25,900’. The familiar scent hit me as I positioned the sign between the window and the windscreen. I had barely returned to my front door when I heard a voice.

“Will you take twenty-five grand?” a man asked. He had approached from somewhere along the busy road, but I didn't stop to question it. He smoked Yak cigarettes; I could see them poking out of his shirt pocket. They were unfamiliar yet comforting.

“I will,” I replied.

He counted out twenty-five hundred-rupee notes and handed them to me with hands that trembled, aged and worn. They were what I imagined my buwa’s hands would have looked like had he still been around.

As the hum of the Hero Honda faded into the cacophony of life’s relentless march, I felt a chapter of my existence turning with the crunch of gravel under its tyres.

The currency now in my palm felt foreign, a meagre exchange for the treasure trove of recollections that I had just relinquished. In that fleeting exchange, each rupee was imbued with the taste of baara and the scent of smoky Yak cigarettes, a currency rich with the essence of buwa’s legacy.

I handed him the keys to the Hero Honda and watched as he left as silently and swiftly as he had arrived. He gave a nod, and I nodded in return.

Then, I stood there, eyes tracing his departure as he navigated the bustling city, a mirror to the lively streets of my youth aboard a motorcycle that cradled beneath its seat the woven shades of my cherished memories.

Published: The Kathmandu Post
Nepal's leading daily newspaper


https://kathmandupost.com/fiction-park/2024/03/17/echoes-of-buwa-s-motorcycle

Sunday, January 7, 2024

The lottery ticket

A man named Amir lived in the bustling town of Bharatpur, near Santichowk. He was known for his resilience despite his chronic poverty. Amir had grown up on a farm in Chitwan with his father, where they always had little money and sometimes not enough food to eat. Despite this hardship, his father loved him and harboured dreams of a better future for him. Amir aspired for more than a life as a farmer and dreamed of working hard, going to Dubai, and making some real money. However, the problem was that getting there and settling down would cost the money that he needed. Seeing his son’s ambition, his father took a drastic step to gather the required money.

His father approached a loan shark to borrow the money to send Amir to Dubai. The loan shark was intimidating and demanded that all the money be returned with interest within six months, or there would be severe consequences. The poor farmer agreed, believing Amir could earn money once he started working in Dubai. However, the borrowed money was only enough to send Amir alone, leaving his wife behind until he made enough to bring her to him.

Amir was thrilled at the opportunity to leave Nepal and go somewhere other than his poor family farm. The city shocked him, but he was determined to earn money to send to his wife and repay the loan shark to make his father proud and live his dream. It only took a few weeks to find a job, and while the pay was small, he believed it would be enough if he spent it wisely.


 

In the desert city, Amir took up a menial job, barely earning enough to make ends meet, let alone send money back home or pay off the loan shark. He was disheartened when he got his first paycheck and realised how little he would have been left with after paying his bills and sending money back. He yearned for a good life and understood that he would never attain it at this rate. In his mind, he remembered the arguments with his father about wanting to earn more money and lead a comfortable life, only to be reminded that there was no shortcut to success and that hard work was necessary.

One day, Amir saw a lottery ticket on sale in a store window. The grand prize was advertised in a huge flashing sign. It was an amount that would allow him to live a comfortable life without having to work ever again. He could pay back the loan shark and send all the money his wife would need. The solution he had been looking for was staring him right in the face.

He knew that just one ticket wouldn't be enough, so he took all the money aside for his family and spent it on lottery tickets. He only sent back a small amount to his wife with a letter explaining that they would never need to worry about money again soon. His wife lived a lonely life. Despite their dire circumstances, she cherished the small amount of money her husband managed to send back home every month. He sent a letter to his father explaining where the money went and assuring him that if the loan sharks could be a little more patient, they would get double the money they lent. He wrote in the letter, “If only I could win the lottery, Buwa. Just once. Life wouldn't be so hard.”

The lottery came and went, with Amir not winning a single penny but losing all his money. When he got paid again and saw an even bigger jackpot, he couldn't help himself. He believed he would be lucky and blessed enough to win that week. He sent similar letters and even less money back to his family, assuring them that this time he would win, and they would be rich and never need to worry again.

He received a reply from his father, a wise and pragmatic man. Instead of excitement, as he had anticipated, he was met with anger. His father scolded him for thinking he could win the lottery and not sending back the promised money. His father wrote, “Babu, Amir, lotteries are illusions for people like us. We become even poorer, spending what little we have, hoping for a miracle. Remember, change isn't brought by luck but by sweat and effort.” He reminded Amir to work hard and stop finding an easy way out. Ignoring his father’s warnings, Amir dreamt of a big house, a new car, and a comfortable life. Amir crumpled up the letter, threw it in the trash, and decided that his father was wrong and didn't understand.

That week, the lottery came and went, and Amir won nothing. He couldn't stop himself and kept spending money on the lottery, convinced that it would all be worth it as soon as he won. He hoped a ticket would bring him a fortune, but he only won a few dollars. Six months passed when he finally received word that his father had passed away and that he needed to return to Nepal.

When Amir arrived, he found that his family farm was gone, and he didn't understand what had happened. He went to his wife for an explanation, only to discover that she had left him for another man. He was furious, but she explained that he had never fulfilled his role by sending her enough money to survive or coming to get her after a few months as he had promised. He asked what had happened to his father, and she told him the story.

After months of not receiving any money, the loan shark destroyed the farm and took it over. He sold the land to get his money back, and Amir's father was left with nothing, not even a place to live. He stayed with Amir's wife, but he became very depressed and soon fell sick and died. Clearly, she blamed Amir for this, and he realised he had made a terrible mistake.

He was so focused on thinking he would win the lottery that he didn’t consider the money being squandered. Money that could have saved his farm or brought his wife back to him. Now, he was left with nothing. The family farm was gone, his father had passed away, and his wife had left him for another man. He was poor, and the only thing the lottery had done was make him even poorer instead of rich as he had imagined.


Published: The Kathmandu Post
Nepal's leading daily newspaper



https://kathmandupost.com/fiction-park/2024/01/07/the-lottery-ticket

Sunday, December 10, 2023

The corrupt king

The tale unfurls itself in the mystical valleys and rugged terrains of Nepal, where there existed a kingdom under a wise and amiable King Rajendra. Rajendra was only 30 years old when he ascended the throne of Nepal. Even at such a young age, he proved to be an extraordinary ruler, doing whatever he could to improve his country. This Himalayan monarch was known for noble deeds, respectful governance, and heart-warming charisma. However, there was significant pressure in Nepal as the idea of modernisation and moving away from monarchy was gaining momentum each day. Consequently, Rajendra decided to meet with Pushpa Koirala, the leader of the main political party, advocating for new leadership.

“It is nice to see you, sir. I am eager to hear your thoughts on this matter,” Rajendra greeted the man.

“Thank you, Your Highness. You may call me Pushpa Koirala. As you know, your efforts to improve this country are commendable, and I wish to assist. I represent the seven largest parties and the Maoist guerrillas, and I pledge to ensure peace and the safeguarding of multiparty democracy,” replied Koirala.

“Do you believe that abdicating the throne will elevate Nepal to greatness?” Rajendra inquired.

“Not just for the country, but for all its inhabitants. The era of monarchy is over, and countries now rely on political systems like ours to succeed,” Koirala explained. Rajendra listened and grasped his perspective.

“I would do anything to serve my country as its King. Even if that means stepping down and letting the country thrive under a different rule,” Rajendra conceded before walking away.

 


 

A few days later, he officially abdicated the throne, declaring that the country would be under new political leadership. The head of the party, Koirala, would become the new president of Nepal, and elections would follow. Rajendra, the former king, would now live a modest life as a commoner.

At first, the new government appeared to be effective. Internationally, Nepal became a focal point due to the unique case of a king willingly giving up his crown. However, internally, the situation was far from ideal. Jobs were becoming scarce, unemployment was on the rise, and the government was unable to provide aid. Job security was non-existent, and the economy was on the brink of collapse. Koirala and his political allies seemed to be using their positions for personal gain rather than serving the country.

The wheel of fate turned sour when his own political party betrayed him, igniting a series of events that thrust the kingdom into a tempest of disarray and gloom. The situation deeply upset Rajendra. He thought his abdication would benefit the nation, but instead, it was in chaos. Feeling guilty and blamed for the country’s misfortunes, he chose to live a life of obscurity.

The only thing that prevented anyone else in the world from intercepting and helping was the fact that the new government was manipulating the news and media, releasing only the stories they wanted to, regardless of their veracity.

Pushpa Koirala, therefore, abandoned his efforts to be a force for good and instead involved himself in an underground crime ring. This enabled him to maintain control over the situation and loot the remaining resources for himself and those he favoured. The majority of the populace was suffering, seemingly without any solution in sight. The government had even halted travel in and out of the country, preventing people from leaving to inform others about the situation in the country.

Although most people had resigned themselves to their fate, a small group was endeavouring to rally against the government, demanding the restoration of the crown to Rajendra. The main problem was that Rajendra was in hiding due to a grievous mistake he had made. Furthermore, the government was not fond of this group’s activities, forcing them to meet in secret or risk arrest for treason. At one of these clandestine meetings, a man with a grown-out hair and an unshaven beard entered, initially unrecognised until his eyes revealed his identity—it was Rajendra, returned to reclaim his throne and his country from Pushpa Koirala.

The bells of peace turned silent and the Kingdom, formerly bubbling with happiness and tranquillity, was thrown into chaos. Yet amidst the betrayal and pain, King Rajendra stood strong, unbending against the blasting winds of adversity, a true testament to his unshakeable spirit.

Over the following weeks, more people joined the group, drawn by Rajendra's leadership. However, it soon became clear that his presence was causing more harm than good, as the government saw him as a significant threat. They manipulated the news media to portray Rajendra as an unstable former king attempting to destroy the country. They painted him as insane and corrupt, forcing him to step back from the group and let them operate without him. Despite this setback, Rajendra still wanted to help and managed to help them find ways to escape Nepal as ordinary citizens. He was saddened to see the people he wished to protect having to leave to survive.

The exodus began slowly, but as more people managed to leave, it was akin to a dam bursting. The neighbouring countries welcomed the Nepalese, allowing them to live and prosper. However, not everyone could leave; the sick and the elderly were unable to handle the journey and were forced to stay under the rule of Pushpa Koirala and his burgeoning empire. Koirala enacted new laws that made him president for life, preventing anyone from voting against him and reclaiming power. Rajendra deeply regretted his inability to intervene when he was still ruling Nepal, as he had wanted to improve the lives of his people.

The Shangri-la of Nepal went awry when a political hurricane fanned by deceit and dishonesty uprooted the reigns of the beloved King. King Rajendra, who always treated his political party as his second family, was mesmerised by their surging treachery. The feisty leadership, blinded by power and greed, conspired against the King, which led to his unfortunate dethronement. His unconditional trust and faith were shattered, leaving him heartbroken. But more than his evasion, it was the deception that dejected the loyal subjects, who viewed this entire political trickery with disbelief.

Regrettably, he was trapped in the country due to the severe backlash from the manipulated news and media. If he tried to escape and go anywhere, he would likely be sent back or imprisoned. The few who knew the truth—that he was not involved in the current state of affairs—were not believed. Many of those who had left blamed him for allowing the government to deteriorate to its current state. Meanwhile, the news continued to spin stories that painted Pushpa Koirala as the saviour of the country, fixing the damage caused by the ‘corrupt’ ex-king.

The old and sick were trapped in a country where the government was stripping them of everything, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to an early death due to the ruling party’s greed and indifference. Their pleas for help fell on deaf ears as the rest of the world believed they were faring well.

Published: The Kathmandu Post
Nepal's leading daily newspaper


https://kathmandupost.com/fiction-park/2023/12/10/the-corrupt-king

Sunday, November 5, 2023

The anthropomorphic book

Every morning, as the quaint library opens, I see people walking in, looking for the human book. Kids are running around, and adults, who appear tired, are seeking a small escape from reality. I know that what’s inside me could make so many people happy, but most pass me by without a glance. I wish I could scream and flap my pages, urging them to give me a chance. Instead, I am stuck on my shelf, waiting and watching as more people pass me by, oblivious to the fact that my pages might provide them with what they are looking for.


 

 

Sometimes, I am picked up, and the air tickles my spine. I feel a rush of excitement, thinking I will finally be opened and read. Instead, I am spun around so fast that, if I had a head, I would be dizzy. They skim over what is written on my black cover, a bare surface preview that can never honestly portray what’s happening inside me. Then, I am placed back on my shelf, as nobody seems interested in discovering what lies within me.

However, one day, after yet another pair of hands roughly grabbed and turned me over, I heard words I had never heard before. “This one sounds cool,” they said. Cool? Me? Before I knew it, I saw different parts of the library for the first time, being brought to the front desk and then taken outside. The sun was so bright, and I couldn't wait to spend a week with someone who wanted to get to know me. I was eager to show how much I had to offer, hoping that more people would choose me and that I would become so popular there would be a waiting list for me.

Suddenly, darkness enveloped me as I was shoved into a bag, where I could only eagerly await the moment my new friend would take me out and get to know me. In the meantime, I could still hear her and learn about someone beyond the brief moments they passed through my section. She was talking on the phone, and I wondered if she would mention finding me and wanting to spend the entire week going through my pages. Instead, the conversation revolved around her.

She seemed to crave the same things that I did—for someone to come and take her off a shelf and out to see the world. Why would she need that if she had just gotten me? I could be her friend and spend the night with her if she only took me out of this dark bag and opened to chapter one. Instead, I heard the TV turn on and soon realised I wouldn’t leave the bag tonight. I could only wait for my new friend to see the real me, just like I was seeing her.

I stayed in the bag all weekend, and she took me to work on Monday. She could read me on her lunch break or show me to her co-workers. I would love to be passed around and have someone look past my hardcover for once.

She was speaking to a man, asking if she could do a presentation for the company. He ignored her and said she seemed bright, but he didn’t think it suited her. He didn't even engage further to find out why she wanted to do it or what it was about. At her desk, I heard her complaining about how she would never progress if she didn’t get a chance to show what she was capable of. What was inside her wanted to be shown, but her boss wouldn't look past the surface level.

I finally realised she was just like me, wanting the same things. She wanted someone to give her a chance based on what was written on her metaphorical back cover. To say she has something good inside and choose her over the millions of others waiting on the shelf. If she looked inside me, she could understand how to fix everything, and neither of us would have to feel inadequate or lonely again. She was in a dark bag, just like me, waiting for someone to reach in and pull her out into the light.

I stayed in that bag for the entire week, and by the time she remembered I was in there, I had to be returned to my home. I was never opened or touched by the person I thought wanted to get to know me. When the librarian asked if she enjoyed reading me for the week, she lied and said I was a good read. I was placed back on the shelf among the other books once again, where their flashy covers would attract attention instead of mine, and they would be taken out time and time again, opened and given a chance, unlike me.

One day, another person might pick me up and think I am good enough to take home. I feel bad for that person because if she had just looked past the front cover, I would have had the answers she sought. After all, I am a book about how to make people notice you.


Published: The Kathmandu Post
Nepal's leading daily newspaper


https://kathmandupost.com/fiction-park/2023/11/04/the-anthropomorphic-book

Friday, June 9, 2023

De-dollarisation. Can the dollar survive it?

Last year, at the Valdai International Discussion Club meeting attended by hundreds of experts and politicians, Rasigan Maharajh asked Russian President Putin what a democratic alternative to the current international system of payments and settlements might be. Putin responded that the United States established the Bretton Woods system after World War II, which created international institutions in finance and international trade. However, this system has broken down because the US uses the dollar to fight for its political interests, undermining trust in reserve currencies.


Foreign countries are now questioning whether keeping foreign currency reserves in dollars is wise. Still, the US has created a robust system that supports these reserves, making it difficult to get out. Over five days in March 2023, three small- to midsize US banks failed. One can easily question now if it is safe to continue saving money in dollars.


The uncertainty of the global market has heightened the importance of having a diversified portfolio. Gold has traditionally been a haven for investors amidst economic turmoil. However, relying solely on gold is also not advisable.Instead, investors should consider forming a well-rounded portfolio combining traditional and alternative investments. Moreover, the recent developments in international trade and finance have brought about the topic of de-dollarisation.


De-dollarisation refers to reducing the dependence of a country's economy on the US dollar. This can be achieved by diversifying the currency reserves of a nation and promoting the use of alternative currencies.
De-dollarisation has been discussed in many countries worldwide due to the US dollar's dominance in global trade and finance.


De-dollarisation is necessary for many countries to reduce their vulnerability to economic shocks. The dollar's power in worldwide business and finance poses significant risks to governments, particularly those with currencies pegged to it. A sudden US dollar exchange rate fluctuation can severely affect a country's economy.


Every nation has learned a hard lesson from the SriLank and dollar turmoil. Diversifying currency reserves can help mitigate the risk of sudden economic shocks caused by US dollar exchange rate fluctuations.




Promoting alternative currencies can open up new markets and trade opportunities for countries that may have been limited by using the dollar. Iraq has already decided to abandon the US dollar, abold move. Countries like India and Bangladesh are exploring the possibility of using local currencies in their business. At the same time, Russia has billions of rupees in Indian banks due to international sanctions.
However, the situation arises not from a lack of goodwill but due to significant trade imbalances. BRICS countries can only partially liberate their currencies due to their heavy reliance on exports.


The problem is both India and China rely on theUS dollar for their exports, which are pegged to the US dollar. This raises an essential question for those who have savings in dollars. Is it safe to continue saving money in dollars? Would it be wise to contemplate investing in gold in these circumstances? In the case of Nepal, there may be better options than de-dollarisation. Nepal heavily depends on re-mittances from its citizens working overseas; a significant portion of those remittances are sent in US dollars. Additionally, the US dollar is widely accepted and used in international trade, making it a virtual currency for Nepal's economy.


India is looking to diversify and internationalise the Indian rupee. However, the rupee may dive deeply if it becomes a convertible currency. During his addresses at a community programmeorganised in Sydney, Australia Indian Prime Minister Modi talked about the impact of the UPI (United Payment Interface) and expressed hope that digital transactions would surpass cash and go global.


An agreement with UPI and all payment system providers and operators in Nepal will not only boost trade between the two countries but also make it easy to carry out cross-border transactions.
Instead of de-dollarisation, Nepal can explore innovative solutions for diversifying its currency reserves and promoting economic growth. One option could be to explore digital currencies, such as Bitcoin or other cryptocurrencies.


Cryptocurrencies can provide alternative payment solutions and encourage trade between countries without a single dominant money. Another option which many central banks, including the NRB, are currently working on is CBDC — Central Bank Digital Currency. CBDCs give central banks more oversight and control over currency supply and circulation. The government typically backs these currencies, and their value is pegged to a national currency. CBDCs are generally not decentralised, and digital forms of fiat currency are issued and controlled by central banks. In contrast, blockchain is a decentralised currency that records and secures digital transactions.


Many experts argue that there may be some benefits of the CBDC, but the drawback outweighs the benefits. Another option Nepal can explore is promoting its local currency, the Nepali rupee, in international trade. This can be achieved by offering incentives to businesses that conduct transactions in Nepali rupees or by promoting Nepali rupees as an alternative currency for remittances.
The global economic system must avoid being dominated by a single currency.


Diversifying currency reserves and promoting alternative currencies can reduce financial vulnerabilities and encourage economic growth. Despite de-dollarisation's challenges, it is a necessary step for many countries. Countries must reduce their vulnerabilities to economic shocks and promote financial stability and growth. The de-dollarisation process should, therefore, be done gradually.

Published: The Himalayan Times
Nepal's leading daily newspaper

Wednesday, May 10, 2023

Human trafficking

Several years ago, Rajesh Hamal, often called the "Maha Nayak", graced Finland with a visit. Proud and curious, he was surprised by the proliferation of Nepali restaurant owners in the country. But little did he know, behind the tantalising aroma of food, a sordid scheme was unfolding. Some restaurant owners had resorted to trafficking people from Nepal, forcibly subjecting them to modern-day slavery in harsh work environments without access to necessities like food, shelter or medical treatment.


Human trafficking is a nefarious industry with far-reaching implications. Nepal, in particular, has been grappling with the debilitating scourge of human trafficking for decades. Countless Nepalis fall victim to the clandestine horrors of labour exploitation and sex trafficking across and within the country's borders.


Human trafficking has appalling effects on victims - especially women and children - including physical, emotional and psychological harm. Sexual exploitation results in unimaginable traumas such as rape, violence, and abuse. Labour exploitation subjects them to physical and emotional abuse, long hours and sub-standard pay. Adversely impacting victims' lives is inhumane and has significant economic repercussions at both individual and national levels. It exacerbates the impoverished circumstances of trafficked persons, aggravates their struggle to reintegrate into society and hampers national productivity and economic growth.


 


In July 2019, a task force headed by Bal Krishna Panthi was initiated by the government under the coordination of KP Sharma Oli to inspect the registration process for Bhutanese refugees. But sadly, it didn't take long for a fraudulent gang to take advantage of the situation. Operating across various districts, they duped Nepalis by soliciting money in exchange for bogus registration as Bhutanese refugees with plans to transfer them to the United States. Their scheme attracted several gullible participants, who paid staggering amounts ranging from Rs 1 million to Rs 5 million.


It was discovered that the fraudsters added names to the report commissioned by the task force and distributed copies to their victims to gain their trust. It's distressing how some unscrupulous individuals' greed wreaked havoc upon the lives of others, trafficking them in the false hope of a better future.
 

In conclusion, human trafficking in Nepal disproportionately affects vulnerable groups. Despite the government and international organisations' interventions, more efforts are necessary to develop a sustainable solution to eradicate this horrendous crime.

Published: The Himalayan Times
Nepal's leading daily newspaper

Tuesday, March 28, 2023

Democratic breakdown

Remember the FIFA World Cup scene when Kylian Mbappe ignored French President Emmanuel Macron when he tried to console him after France's heartbreaking penalty shootout loss to Argentina? Now, the French President has decided to implement highly debatable and controversial retirement reforms to address millions of French citizens' issues.


However, there is mounting pressure as violent demonstrations have occurred. Hundreds of security forces were injured, thousands of people were arrested, King Charles III's visit to France was postponed, and thousands of fires were lit around Paris a few days ago.


Macron unilaterally increased the retirement age from 62 to 64 using special presidential powers, which has resulted in his citizens' dissatisfaction with his decisions. Macron is also criticised for being the "president of the rich". A democratic system created to avoid another revolution has ironically resulted in the formation of conditions that could lead to a violent uprising.


 


The current system is based on a capitalist model designed to benefit the wealthy and powerful.
This system has created a large gap between the rich and the poor. The wealthy have access to resources and opportunities that the poor need access to. This inequality has led to injustice and frustration among the lower classes, who feel they are not treated fairly. The lack of economic opportunity and the feeling of being left behind have caused many people to become disillusioned with the current democratic process and system.


Political demonstrations include marches, rallies, sit-ins, or protests happening worldwide, not just in our country. Some Western countries are tired of mass immigration, economic shocks, dirty elections, the Ukraine war, low wages, and what they see as unnecessary lockdown controls.


Democratic breakdown and decline occur when there is no direct participation of the people, and issues are brought up top-down. In a democracy, any controversial idea or topic must go through a referendum, a bottom-up process. Constitutional reform should occur through the people's referendum instead of by presidential powers or amending top-down constitutions.


If we, the people, are unhappy about our current political set-up, we should ask for a people's referendum, which would result in constitutional reform. For example, suppose Nepal wants a king as a part of a democratic government. In that case, the people should decide from the bottom up, not by presidential powers or amending the constitution (topdown).


While some democratic and political experts have criticised referendums for disguising populism, they should still be included in decision-making. However, dictators like Hitler and Mussolini have used referendums to hide oppressive policies as populism.


Using militarised troops against citizens without gaining public support is antithetical to democracy, as demonstrated by Macron's handling of the Gilets Jaunes or Yellow Vests protests.

Published: The Himalayan Times
Nepal's leading daily newspaper