By Tara P. Shrestha

Part-1 The arrival- Airport

Flying into Kathmandu Valley as a former resident, an overwhelming sense of trepidation gripped me as the Singapore Airlines flight touched the tarmac of Tribhuwan International Airport. I couldn’t help but think of how far Nepal had progressed and how much further she still had to go.

I can still remember the airport as “gauchar” with metal pipe fencing around the grassed taxiways grazed by scrawny cows. When the siren sounded herds of animal and men alike scattered helter skelter above the drone of an approaching Dakota. Gauchar was where you met either amricans ( every white-skinned person was one) or thulo government officials.

Amenities abound in the contemporary terminal building – a sloping brick clad concrete structure. Remember the time when nepalipana translated as a gajur over every edifice in the Valley.

We can thank the consortium of international and local consultants for not putting one, but at the same time sue them for not incorporating a ramp. Passengers laden with heavy hand baggage (all heavy articles end up in the handbag to avoid the exorbitant excess baggage ) are required to negotiate these flights of steps at the end of their tiring journey.

The dreaded lamo faram is a thing of the past. Even though the green channel with scanning machine provides the quick getaway there is no getting away from the hawk-like gazes of the customs officials in dhaka topis munching on suparis and scanning faces and baggages with their trained x-ray eyes. Under such intense scrutiny I would imagine the proverbial needle in a haystack would shine bright as a beacon but despite such dedicated glares, the smugglers still have their field days.

The airport is undergoing expansion presently. Perhaps the improvements will be boon for travelers. Something to look forward to in your next trip.

What awaits me as I step through the doors of the arrival lounge?

Part 2: The City

Kew’s wildest dreams[1] continue to be a reality in Kathmandu, a city propelled from scattered medieval townships to a major metropolis. It is a city of dichotomy. Old coexist with the new. Eastern culture survives amidst western influences. Cows and cars share the road. Daura suruwal vie for recognition among Levi-clad youth. Coco-Cola hoardings provide shade for thelawalas sipping thirstily the caffeine out of the hallmark glass bottle. And beer is big, so big that the traditional drink thoun (jaand) is a distant memory. High rise buildings dwarf temples and shrines. Satellite discs grow out of jhingatey tiled roofs. It is a city in transformation.

I harbour fond memories of my childhood in the city. It was a time when the streets were truly a public domain encouraging social interaction among its residents. Children played in sunlit courtyards. There was an inhabitant-friendly scale to the city and pervading sense of security. Now every inch of city core has been invaded, vertically by concrete and horizontally by hawkers. Metal rolling shutters front all ground level shop fronts. The city’s infrastructure continues either not to cope or crumble. The old hitis, Sundhara, Maruhiti are mere trickles. The bright, sun drenched bahals are damp and rubbish dumping grounds. Public sattals, maths and other urban artefacts are in a state of disrepair. The receding shores of Bagmati and Bishnumati have been taken over squatters. A perpetual haze blocks off the views to the surrounding hills and snow-capped mountains.

Into a new millennium it is a time for resolute change. A dynamic city continually evolves and transforms meeting new needs and incorporating new technologies. As the lifestyles of the inhabitants change the city reshapes itself. Management of growth and change can only be possible with a political will. Regulation and enforcement have to be simultaneously administered. And an understanding and appreciation of the city’s history and its people will shape the vision for the future of Kathmandu preserving both the natural and man-made environment. Perhaps Kipling’s dreams will continue to be a reality.

PART 3 : The people – the exodus

When Cat Stevens (now Yusuf Islam) sang Kathmandu I’ll soon be seeing you/ And your strange bewildering time/ Will keep me home, little did he realise how tenuous a hold it would have on its inhabitants. For a generation of youth aspiring to Western education and culture, exposed to cola, jeans and 555, what better way to project an iconoclastic image of the new Nepalese youth by adopting a mix of eastern values and western ways. Professional education became the one-way ticket and many took the plunge.

Fast forward to the present time. Walk into a KFC or a McDonalds in any major metropolis and you could almost order in Nepali. Look at the Sydney Olympics volunteer list and you will see Pradhans and Pandeys, Sharmas and Shresthas. Nepalese tucker has made its mark at the restaurant circles of Sydney. Nepal has truly joined the global community.

Our history makes us a special breed. The oriental and western blends have made us lethal survivors. Our contributions continue to shape the destiny of mankind albeit to a lesser degree than other races. We are only doing it in a place where we were not born. Our future and, indeed, that of our children are being shaped everyday. What will emerge from such a cross-cultural fertilization remains to be seen.

This evolution entails compromises on perceived values, keeping an open mind and reshaping attitudes. In the absence of the social networks, so strong and binding in Nepal, new ones are being created. New friendships provide stability and security. Second generation relationships are being nourished among our children. Instead of picnics to Godavari we meet on parks around Sydney. We eat khashi ko masu in Dasain, celebrate janku and still enjoy our paplu or farans.

We all miss home but we all are making Sydney our new hom