What will you do?

I know I complain about everything that happens in Nepal. Small things matter right? I read a blog about a Nepali man’s frustration over how Nepalese wait patiently in international airports and behave all goody good and when in Nepal immediately try out some stunts to move ahead of the line. What is wrong with us I reason. Well nothing I reason back. Is it our culture that makes us so unruly and egoistic that we take extra care to follow all the rules and regulations in a foreign land but then slack and attack and abuse all of our own?

A week back I went to a bakery in Jawalakhel to order a birthday cake for my daughter who turned seven L and while I was there for approximately 20 minutes the owner (male) would not even look at me and his wife kept on chewing on the diced fruit from the counter. Occasionally the male would munch on it too. They wouldn’t appreciate the fact that I was doing business with them and that the monetary gain was all theirs. No its not Herman they have already earned the rudest/unfriendliness blokes title in bakery business. To tell you the truth the cake was super yummy better than Herman’s . But I haven’t gone back. I know their business won’t suffer just because I won’t shop there but then I have been spending money in bhat bhateni one of the notorious dupes who not only price their items high but also have employees who don’t smile ever.  

In my last visit to bhat bhateni the sales person bagged my groceries. In shock, I thanked her endlessly. Of course she looked at me as if I was a mad woman. Imagine thanking a salesperson for doing their job.

Nepalese are known to be the most resilient people on earth not just in terms of climbing Everest without oxygen but also getting by with whatever we can. Last year, we endured a whole winter without gas heaters and chopped one or two remaining trees we had in our garden to stay warm and cook our meals. I bought a gas cylinder for 9200 rupees which is five times more than the actual market price? None of us went out on the street to protest the stupidity of our government’s decision – good or bad – we survived. Some of us may have resorted to drinking a peg of brandy to warm ourselves and with that gained a couple of pounds because what good is a shot of brandy without a couple of pieces of khasi ko masu.

And here I am complaining not just about the money I spend on daily consumables (Kathmandu is one of the most expensive cities in the world. Did you know that?) but also about my weight. So I google the list of foods I should be eating to not gain any more weight and the list is full of fruits and vegetables. Since last year I have completely stopped bargaining with the fruit vendors. When you pay 9200 rupees for a cooking gas cylinder paying 160 rupees for a kilo of apples sounds damn reasonable to me. And why not, an apple a day can keep you away from the doctor. But then our fruits and vegetables are laced with so much chemicals that I don’t worry anymore if my daughter refuses to eat vegetables or fruits. So what do we eat then. Back to breads and bakers.

I go back to the hermans to buy a whole grain loaf of bread which costs a lot of money. When I enquired what do they put in the bread to cost it so much the owner replied that all raw products are imported and hence. I wouldn’t dare argue with a man who has been baking breads successfully for over three decades now.

Forget arguing with a man. I can’t even honk. Everyone honks. I have received stares from men that make me feel like as if I have violated their rights. During dasain every car or bike owner parked their four and two wheelers where they wouldn’t normally park on a normal weekday. Because we are powerful when we don’t follow the rules. So there I was tailing a government plated Hilux because it parked for a minute right in the middle of the road and then moved again at a snail’s pace. And it stopped and moved again. Out comes the Madam from the backseat and because by now I have outrun my patience quota for that day I honk as any normal driver would do. Instead of moving the vehicle to the side the driver rolled his window and stared hard at me. Even though he didn’t say a word I could clearly read the lines. It said ‘How dare you? A woman, honk? You have no right.’ Mind you this isn’t the first time. It happens every day.

I am no body to tell people what they should do or not. I can’t teach a shop owner how to run their business. I am not qualified. I can’t teach people the decency to wait in line. I can’t sue a cinema hall for having just one exit. I can’t fight a man on the street because he has disrupted the traffic. I can choose not to be obnoxious and park only where it is permitted. I can wait in line. I can smile. I can say thank you. And I can write about my experiences. What will you do?

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