Now and then

By Keshav Nepal : Source Kantipuronline.comPosted on: 2006-03-11 09:27:21


1996

The Panchayat era was gone and was nowhere to be seen. Political parties were in their heyday. Every nook and cranny of the kingdom was filled with political guff. Everyone was divided into congress and communists.

It was amazing but true. A family had one son into the communist school of thought while the other was following the congress. People were engrossed in a war of words. They lambasted the opposition but defended their leaders like loyal soldiers. It seemed everyone had turned out to be a political analyst. You could say whatever you liked; there definitely was freedom of speech. The dogmatic political conversations were hilarious to a neutral. No matter how hilarious or skin deep the talk might have been, it was the beginning of a new culture--an awareness of politics in the commoners.

Those were the days when you had license to roam. You could travel to Nepalgunj by a night bus. Your bus could stop anywhere. It could stop at tea-shops on the highway. The owner would be up waiting to serve you a cup of warm tea or coffee. Why wouldn't he wake up? He had just learnt he could make some money at night too. Security checks were as rare as blue moons. The only places where you had to stop were at the police check posts where the vehicles had to enter their registration numbers and they could cruise on.

Those were the days when you could ride through the night in the Bardiya National Park. You could enjoy the breathtaking view of the national park. You could even see the wilderness of the wild wild west at its best; peacocks and deer dancing beside the highway, illuminated by the headlights of passing vehicles.

Your bus could break down in the middle of nowhere yet the only complaint you would have was that there was no one to serve you a warm cup of tea but there was no fear. Absolutely no fear.

There were no bridges after the Karnali river, and your vehicle had to cross the numerous rivers on the way to Dhangadhi, however, the bridges were being built. There was a hope that someday you could drive over the bridge and forget about crossing the rivers.

A small communist party had just submitted their agendas of reform to the lion-heart of the west, Mr Sher who was Bahadur enough to dump it in the dustbin of Singha Durbar. The apathy of the state was enough for them to abandon mainstream politics and venture into the jungle- to the wild wild west. People laughed them off; mostly the cadres and leaders of the political parties.

2006

Democracy-II is gone after a stint of a mere 12 years. It has disappeared in the quicksand of Narayanhiti, gone without a trace. Gone too is King Birendra and gone with him the zone of peace.

King Gyanendra fails to find a place in the hearts of ordinary Nepalis unlike his brother Birendra. In his aspiration to become a great king, he has become the victim of his own desire. The kingdom is divided between two chairmen. The political analysts are gone. The political guff of yesteryears has vanished. The war of words is gone only to be replaced by a real nasty war. Go with the flow; today the commoners talk about events mostly bandhs, blockades, attacks, explosions.

You can no longer roam wherever your heart wants. The night buses are history. The construction of bridges on the other side of the Karnali
has been complete but it takes three tiring days to reach Kathmandu from Dhangadhi. The small police posts where unarmed policemen would record your vehicle numbers are gone, replaced by hundreds of armed soldiers checking your bags and baggage every 50 kilometres.

The small communist party that had disappeared into the jungles is no longer small. They control most of the hinterland and the wild wild west. They even have check-posts on the highways. It is hard to believe. But seeing is believing.

It was between Lamahi and Samshergunj. The passengers were tired and fed up with the security checks. Again the vehicles were stopped in the middle of nowhere. There were no armed police forces or a Royal Nepalese Army barracks, no sentry, nothing at all. A boy of 15 with his face covered by a handkerchief, wearing a combat uniform that resembles neither the RNA's nor the APF's, a whistle hanging from his belt his only weapon, stops the vehicles. He checks the vehicles, questions anyone who he finds suspicious, asks for identity cards, and lastly asks the drivers for Rs 400 as a donation to the people's government. The driver bargains and pays Rs 200 and the boy hands him the receipt of his government.

A single boy from the party in the jungle was enough to control the vehicles plying a national highway. After 20 kilometres comes the Samsherganj barracks of the Armed Police Force. The sentry there asks the driver, "So, you also paid the donation". The bus driver tries to evade the question, "I don't know, the bus owner knows better. They didn't talk to me". The APF knew since the early morning but did not dare go there and stop them. The next day security personnel go there and shoot eight villagers. The Maoists had already fled to their safe shelters. Next day a bulletin is issued that eight suspicious terrorists were gunned down near Khairi Khola.

Rewind and fast forward

Political parties could not perform up to the expectations of the general public. Soon there were hung parliaments. Members of the esteemed parliament were bought and sold. It was the start of a war of numbers firstly initiated by Congress and later followed by the Unified Marxists and Leninists and also by the Rastriya Prajatranta party. As personal egos and political vendettas took centre stage, the major political parties began to split one after another.

King Birendra along with his whole family was assassinated. The symbol of unity was gone. The Maoists intensified their battle against the state, and suddenly started attacking the royal army. This was enough to declare a state of emergency and tag them as terrorists.

Sher, the Bahadur, got so paranoid that he dissolved the parliament while the country was still under emergency, and he was later shown the exit doors of the Singha Durbar as a reward for his bravery. Democracy-II had perished into the mire of a grand design--now not only GPK but everyone could see what the grand design was.

The parties rallied hard on the streets in vain. The king had no intention of listening to them. Prime ministers came and went with each season. Finally Sher, the Bahadur was appointed as prime minister but only to be shown the exit door once again. Lightening never strikes twice but for the Bahadur, it did. That was when the king started to turn into a chairman.

A year passed under the chairmanship of his majesty, and nothing has changed for the better. The much-hyped municipal polls turned out to be a fiasco.

The economy is in a tailspin. Inflation has gone up by double digits. Bandhs, blockades, attacks, explosions, killings are even more rampant. The future looks bleak.

On the positive side, the triangular equation has now gone bipolar. The parties have allied with the Maoists as the latter are preparing for a safe landing through a constituent assembly. A lot of blood has been shed. Now, the king must give back what he snatched from the people and chairman Prachanda must come back from where he had veered off, into the jungle, or else everyone will take the commitments of both chairmen towards democracy as being nothing more than the emperors' new clothes.