First Day of the New Rising Sun

"Putali sadak" - butterfly street. The name is as colorful and vibrant as the name implies. This street winds through what is perhaps one of the most bustling commercial districts in Kathmandu. Distinct from the tourist quarters of Thamel, Putali Sadak is crowded with Nepalis - men, women, children, rich, poor, young, old, you name it. Everything from bright sari shops to food markets dot the busy landscape.

Today, I spent my first full day immersing myself in the various intricacies of life in Kathmandu. I woke up to the warmest and sweetest cup of tea, or chiya, and spent the morning watching my younger cousin, Mayank head off to the American Embassy for his big interview to obtain a Visa for his opportunity to go to America and study. The entire family's ambitions, hopes, and dreams were represented in this ideal to get an education in America. He was successful in obtaining a US visa, which called for much celebration and praise throughout the day.

I spent a good few hours intoxicated in conversation with some family who had come to visit - old friends, partners in crime, and loved ones forever - it was great catching up and feeling a warm sense of belonging again.

Then, with a sudden urge to see the city, I decided to strike off for a few hours walking around the city, challenging the brevity of Mnemosis, the greek god of Memory. What I saw was shocking as much as it was familiar. Much of the city hadn't changed and I navigated with ease. Things seemed much smaller and more walkable. Above all, what was most striking was the sheer amount of growth, in terms of buildings, shops, people... filth. I was disgusted by the pollution - the dark billowing plumes of smoke that emanated from the cars, the piles of trash on the sides of streets, the dark rivers choked with plastic bags. Is this really development, or bikas, as it is called in Nepali?

A visit to my old house in Old Baneshwor was rather somber. The wide open fields in front were now places occupied by larger, more decadent houses, which ironically were just a few hundred feet from the cardboard houses and slums where the "Untouchables" lived. Marijuana plants still grew rampant along the river's edge. I thought to myself, "in essence, not much has changed."

Moving away from my first impressions of the city, today was a fun day. After my stroll around town, I went to celebrate with my cousin by eating some momo, a fine Nepali delicacy that is very similar to pot stickers. He bought gifts for some of his mentors and professors, and thanked them for their help in realizing his approaching voyage to America. Then, we watched a movie in the country's newest theater; in its quality, it certainly matches the best movie theaters in the US. However, one disturbing observation - only English and Hindi movies are played here, rarely Nepali movies. When I inquired why, a young boy answered, "because Nepali movies are yack (horrible)." As I was to find out, one of the stark results of the desires of most Nepali people to embrace modernity and the widespread capitalist consumerism of "middle-class culture," as Mark Liechty puts it, is that the opinion of most things "Nepali" is very low. Nepali movies just aren't good enough, the airports service was "so Nepali" (implying "very poor"), in the words of another person, etc.

Nearly all my family members here hope one day to move to America. To them, America is a symbol of great opportunity, a bastion of success, a key to bettering their lives. I disagree with their construction of such a superficial image of America, but nonetheless, cannot help but ponder the phenomena that creates such desires. I was once in their position and shared their dreams of making a better life in the US. In the end, as people across the world face this strange monster of "modernity," perhaps the only thing that is certain is that lives will change and uncertainty will garner a greater role. Old traditions are lost and new ones are gained. Asking the question of "is it better or worse this way?" may not be the right question to be asking. And if not, then exactly what kinds of questions should we be asking?

Whatever it is, I realize now more than ever that I love my family deeply, and wish the best for them all.

Cloudy,
a dripdrop of rain

f
a
l
l
s

in different colors.

from the sierra
and
through the home of butterflies.
putali sadak.


Kathmandu-ly,

Jeff