Asha - a hope to change the stars

"Aasha" is the story of hope, belief and destiny. The protagonist, Asha is kicked out of the house by her mistress and she is thus left homeless and helpless. In a turn of events, Asha finds herself in a situation which in an unexpected way changes her life forever. Asha represents childhood innocence with a mix of humor and the message that with determination and will, one could achieve the impossible.

"The Evening Star"

                                                            "The Evening Star"

"Men of all hues come to me seeking comfort." It wasn’t what she said that drained out the colors inside me, but it was how she said.

Her eyes heavy with liner had an unusual spark in them; her blood red lips smiling, radiated the room. She had a striking figure of a 21 year old diva at 40. It was like time and age could do no harm to her beauty, with appeal that of a Greek goddess, she could have been anything she wanted; yet she chooses to be in the dark. Nevertheless, I saw no resentment or any sort of indignation in her. Instead she had an aura of self chauvinism.

She wasn't one of those damsels in distress who was deceived and forced into this trade. "My body is a temple, where a man sacrifices himself," she said out loud as if the whole world should be aware of the fact. When she saw my horror struck face, her Cupid’s bow shaped lips turned into a cunning smile.

She sat there in front of me on a magnificent Queen Anne chair, her delicate hands pressed against the handles. She was calm and poised. There was nothing sordid about her. In fact she was more elegant than many ladies I've known all my life.

Yes, she was extremely beautiful but clearly undesirable in the society. In the eyes of her fellow neighbors, she was shame and a disgrace. Everybody shunned her for what she was; at the same time they were jealous of her prime and independence. There was this ambiance of enigma that concealed her, protected her from the 'etiquette glares'. I was obliviously lurked by it.

There was nothing I ever felt for her. It seemed all my emotions were locked up in a Pandora’s box whenever my curious gaze fell upon her. As a child, I saw her bargaining venomously with the vegetable seller. Later she would head home carrying the vegetable bags in one hand and the other neatly gathering the pleats of her emerald green chiffon sari. Her gestures had always been pleasant, but then, there was the clamoring gossip of her night activities. About different men leaving her house at odd hours, the audacious noise lurking in the air. No one really talked to her, nevertheless, knew whatever happened behind the closed curtains.

Her soft laughter brought me back to our quiet tête-à-tête. My absent-minded expression had amused her. "But tell me why? Why did you become this?" I finally asked.

She became serious now, her brows knit and her expression turning hard. "This is not just a means of earning a living, it is the lifestyle I choose," she retorted.

Silence fell upon us. I shut my eyes, unable to look at her. She was studying me and after taking a deep breath she told me calmly,  "One should be comfortable in their skin. One should learn to appreciate what comes naturally inside. This came naturally to me child, and I embraced it."

I was on the roof- top, watching the sky it was a bright fort- night. The moon was lit high up in the sky, like a light bulb illuminating the entire room. Stars were dancing all over the black sky. Stars. Star. Evening Star. She called herself ‘The Evening Star’.

Why does she call herself The Evening Star? Questions about her always troubled me. When one question was answered, others would pop up and torment me. When I asked her, she handled these questions gently, sometimes bitter, but gently.

Sleep came easily to me after long hours spent gazing at the dazzling stars. In the mid-night, little fairies would come and whisper her stories into my ears and my mind would turn them into dreams. In the morning, only fragments were left of those dreams.

She was always kind to me. She waited patiently as I asked her about her life answering every question thrown at her. Every word she spoke weighed with passion.

"I'm blessed." She once told me turning her hands up towards god, thanking him. She was a great devotee of Lord Shiva. Never in her life had she missed Mahashivaratri. “Like Shiva, I take away the pain and give happiness,” she asserted to my curiosity. Her life was a chapter of an old book and I was welcome to read it anytime.

I knew everything about her, yet she was a stranger to me. It perplexed me. How did she find heaven on hell? What most people believed was a sin; she accepted it as god’s gift? Most importantly how on earth was she happy doing what she was doing? I was drowned by these thoughts. She took pride in her work and turned deaf ear to the sarcasms. She was unaffected and untouched by the outrageous neighbors. Most of the time it was hue and cry.

Suddenly one day, people completely cut her off from the society as though she never existed. However, every nook and cranny of the vicinity secretly showed interest in her life.

Men, who turned their heads away from her in broad day light, would bend down on their knees for her at night. At this, she used to laugh heartily. Such things never bothered her. “Look at the bright side child” she used to say.

“When a man buys me for an hour or more, he doesn’t only make love to me. He pours his heart out. I’m his confidante with whom he shares his sorrows and secrets, which becomes my sorrows and secrets. What’s been said in this room never ever leaves this room.” My mouth slacked. She had a completely different perspective towards life and her profession.

It was mid afternoon when I sat with her, to listen to her fables. The sun was blazing powerfully, but its rays couldn’t reach us. It never did actually. Her bungalow was protected by shadows of thick antique trees; cool breeze lingered around her compound all the time. As usual she looked exquisite, and today with no make- up on, she was as eye pleasing and pure as an angel. She had in herself a chaste beauty and for the first time I understood what it meant. Her lips were moving to form words, “its time child time for me to retire now.”

These were all fragments of what was written in my brother’s diary. She was real, but not as real as flesh and blood. She was his imagination carefully shaped by ink on paper. And I as a reader, never really got the whole story of her life. She was a fragment of his imagination; she was his fragment, whom he called 'The Evening Star’.

                                                       

Timeless beauty of words.

Womenfolk of Nepal

At a time when voices to stop violence against women in Nepal is resonating throughout the country, I have managed to capture innocent faces of the rural women of Nepal busy with their day to day chores. These photos are taken particularly on Lok Highway (formerly Mahendra Highway) as you travel outwards from Kathmandu valley towards Lumbini, the birthplace of Lord Buddha.

Women in rural Nepal commute for miles in groups to collect grass, leaves and wood for domestic purposes. 

In their journey from village to forest these women  maneuver their way through the busy highway. The journey takes up the better part of their day.

The women carry traditional Nepali basket (Doko) to gather their keeps.  

After the long walk along the higway the uphill journey towards the forest begins as they slowly disappear from sight.

At Khani Khola, Dhading women stepped out of their houses to protest at the local police station demanding justice for a nine-years-old girl who was raped by a 15-years-old boy.

Local women rights activist Buddhi Rana Magar addressing the women of Khani khola VDC, asking them to unite to stop violence against women. The juvenile culprit had been taken to the district police station a week ago, however no progress has been made on the case. 

One can locate some of the womenfolk generating meagre income by selling sugarcanes along the highway. They purchase these sweet sticks from villages on the hills at Rs. 25 per stick and sell it for Rs. 40. 

Sangita Tamang sells sugarcanes on the highway at Saat-Killa as her husband works in a nearby construction site on the river banks. The income put together is enough to educate and feed their three children.  

A peaceful rally voicing an end to violence against women marching towards Narayanghat  from Gaindakot.

The rally comprised of various women right groups of Nawalparasi district.  

Sita Pandey, one of the various Supervisors of road maintenance at Lok Highway, taking a break from her work. She was supervising a team of men who were fixing the road side drainage. 

The three ladies on their way to Chormara Bazaar with heaps of  grass to feed their goats. The 10 miles long journey from their village to the jungle and back takes them four hours. 

The women from Dolpa on prilgrimage at Mayadevi Temple, Lumbini. The temple marks the exact spot of Lord Buddha's birth and is named after his mother. 

Subhawati Pal,  resident of Madhubani VDC, weaving a pen holder as she awaits customers near the Shanti Deep (fire symbolising peace) at Lumbini. Weaving baskets has been her family tradition. Also being trained in the craft, she makes baskets with modern designs which are valued at Rs. 400. 

A woman at Bhairabsthan temple, Palpa preparing a special offering called Rot made of rice flour, sugar, ghee and condiments. Devotees purchase this special offering to please Lord Bhairab at Rs. 150 per piece.  

Young girls feel free and independent as they ride their bicycles in Parsa. Bicycles are the popular medium of transport in the Terai region for men and women alike. 

A woman walking behind her goats. The herd is marching to feed on sweet grass of the forest.  

A woman dexterously weaving colourful woolen decorative items popularly hung in the buses and trucks.  

You and I. Our love and support has grown over the years.  Your encouragement keeps me moving and I will be your strength in your fight against the tormentors. 

Womenfolk are involved in variety of work apart from the traditional domesticated roles. They give back to the society and economy in every possible way. They have earned their respect. It is high time we acknowledge their efforts. The gender discrimination and violence needs to be eradicated for a happy society. Impunity must end!

Equality (Samanata)

Our attempt in short film making. This is a story about untouchability prevailing in Nepali society.

Football in Social Advocacy

“Football is passion, football is emotion, football is discipline, football is fair that is why we have used this game to advocate against gender based violence,” said Ms. Bandana Rana, Executive Chair of Saathi (NGO) addressing the program held in Russian Culture Centre, Kamal Pokhari on the last day of 16 day campaign on December 10^th, 2012.

Football is a very popular sport in Nepal; it is loved by everyone, has reached every corner of the country and easily understood by all groups.  To raise awareness against gender based violence it has become an effective medium. Case in point is the joint campaign of Saathi and All Nepal Football Association (ANFA) with slogans: “Scoring Goal for Social Cause, Our Goal: Stop Violence Against Women” and “Respect Women…Be a Real Man”.

(http://www.saathi.org.np/images/stories/content/ANFA-Saathi_004.jpg)

Asia Football Confederation’s (AFC) Dream Asia Movement and Enabling State Program are the supporters of the campaign that was launched on February 2011, with an aim of engaging men to promote gender equality and prevent gender based violence. Out of the 47 countries, Saathi and ANFA’s partnership has also been declared as one of the five nominees for AFC’s Social Responsibility Award.  

A book launch and panel discussion was organised by Saathi and ANFA in collaboration with Himal TV. The program started with the book launch by Former Chief Secretary Dr. Madhab Prasad Ghimire, ANFA President and AFC Vice President Mr. Ganesh Thapa, Member Secretary of ANFA Mr. Yubaraj Lama, President of Coach Association and former National Team Captain Mr. Raju Shakya, and Former National Team Captain Mr. Hari Khadka. The football shaped book chronicles the joint effort of ANFA and Saathi to eradicate gender based violence.

The book launch was followed by the panel discussion. The objective of the discussion was to encourage people to emulate the concept of fair play in football and practice the same in maintaining respect, mutual relation and peaceful environment at home.

Nepali society is a patriarchal society where the head of a family is a man and he makes every decision. Women are supposed to be submissive and follow orders. In a family, boys and girls are not treated equally; boys are given large portions of food, sent to better schools and given more pocket money and freedom. This is the seed from which the discrimination grows. In extreme case scenario, the most recent example is that of Shiva Hasmi who was burnt to death for rejecting a marriage proposal.

In order to reach out to the masses through this campaign five personalities from the Nepali football scene were selected as role models: Ganesh Thapa, Pradeep Maharjan, Raju Shakya, Hari Khadka and Santosh Saunkhala. They were highlighted as shining examples of ideal men who have committed to end violence against women beginning from their home, work and society.

Many men in our society help their wives and counterparts but they refrain from doing so in public. They are apprehensive about the reactions they might get from their friends and family as a henpecked husband. Former National Football Team Captain Hari Khadka shared a similar experience, “I routinely helped my wife but I was ashamed to let it out in public.  After getting involved in the campaign I became more confident. One morning I went on my terrace to hang washed clothes; observing which my neighbour who also helped around at home but was embarrassed to admit publicly came out on the balcony to hang washed clothes, which proves that if you do something good people will emulate it”.

The panel discussion hopped on to the subject of women in sports when Mr. Ganesh Thapa mentioned that ANFA has started treating the women footballers with the same standard as men by providing equal prize money and facilities. If we tally the medals scored by men and women in Nepali sports arena we will find that women have more medals at football, cricket and other individual games added Mr. Yubaraj Lama.

Various non-governmental organisations are working for the issues related to gender based violence whether it is related to trafficking, inequality or injustice against women, but what is the role of the government? Former Chief Secretary Dr. Madhab Prasad Ghimire enunciated that the government has to take the lead; it has to be fully committed, improve laws, change policies and implement the work plan. However Dr. Ghimire stressed that the public should not sit complacent by taking it as the government’s responsibility and reminded that it is the women in our family and society that are being victimised.

Definition of violence has changed with time, technology, development and awareness. Ms. Poornima Shrestha, a reporter of Vibes Magazine, who was in the audience anxiously shared about the violence at work place. She argued that hundreds of women like her either have to go on a date with their bosses or compromise to get a good project at work. 

Violence can be both psychological and physically inflicted directly or indirectly. 16 days of rigorous activism is not enough, we have to be active everyday of the year to make our nation women friendly. 

Atif dai ko Concert

‘Guess what Atif Aslam is coming to town!’ I squealed unable to hide my excitement. 
‘Oh mann! Just when I am not there!’ my friend exclaimed from the other side of the globe, yes we were talking over the phone.

We used to croon his song Oh jane ja in our hostel corridors, when we were studying in Bangalore. My friend managed to transfer her excitement as well as sorrow of not being able to attend the concert. And I promised her that I would go to the concert and share my experience.

So there I was stuck in traffic for 10 minutes, right outside Dasharath stadium. When I heard the band members playing I started getting super impatient. The music coming from within the walls of the stadium got me so excited that I had the desire to get out of the car and run towards the gate. Ironically the traffic was moving only inch by inch. I was anxious, as I did not want to miss the big entry.

Finally we reached the entrance, to my utter dismay massive crowd was jostling to enter a single door of a big gate of Dasharath stadium. The police meant for security gave the most horrible welcome when they barraged through my friends pocket and threw away his chapstick for security reasons. I said to myself all is well but what awaited us next was a python like queue. Thankfully the queue moved faster than we anticipated and eventually we entered the concert arena with a sigh of relief.

After few minutes Atif Aslam entered the stage, he ran in with a cool attitude, grabbed the microphone and started singing with a rockers attitude.  I have to confess until that moment I thought of Atif Aslam as more of a traditional singer. It was an image I had created of him after watching musical battle show Sur Kshetra in Colors TV. But here he was with the attitude of a rocker shaking up the stage with his ardent female fans shouting from the crowd Atif I Love You!

Atif Aslam sang variety of songs ranging from Bollywood to Sufi to his solo albums to songs from MTV Coke Studio. Personally I knew only two of his songs O jane ja and dooriii… I waited for him to sing these songs; in the meanwhile I started clicking away. This concert was a perfect opportunity for me to hone my skill for photography. Atif knew how to work the crowd and the poses he gave was just what I needed.

All in all Atif Aslam was quite an entertainer, with my busy schedule and IELTS exam the next day I somehow managed to go to Atif Aslam’s concert. This kind of concerts by international artists is a welcome relief to the young crowd of Nepal. Thanks to ODC Entertainment, we hope to enjoy many such concerts in the future.  

Catharsis- Long Awaited Revenge

“It’s just the beginning, ” said he, “For the downpour of calamities are yet to come”, and while he
spoke those words, hot tears escaped from the corners of his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. At
that moment, I knew that there was no looking back. I had to do what we intended.

It was a kamikaze attack. Although, I believed that the danger and risk was nothing, only like a small
mosquito that could be smashed within seconds. I was cocksure that our plan was flawless. It was a
photo finish. However, saying that would’ve made me naïve, way too naïve.

He was the world to me. The one who broke the ice; and ever since that day it has been flowers and
candies. We met during mid-July. Crystal like waters pouring down overlapped Kathmandu. We were
two complete strangers walking together on the streets of Durbar Marg. I was eagerly scanning a
subject for my work window and there he was staring at me or right through me.

He was godlike handsome, with a sleek nose and flared nostril accompanied by the liquid warm look
of his eyes. His lips were curled up into a killer smile, flashing the perfect set of teeth. Then I realized
that the smile was for me. I managed to give him the best smile I could, and I think it was a success
as after that he said, “Hey there! I’m Roy.”

His voice was like rhythm to my ears, a perfect piece of melody taken out from Beethoven. “I’m
Dave,” I replied curtly. But he didn’t realize, instead his eyes brightened with the waves of vitality he
said, “So you are a photographer huh?”

His interest towards me came as a shock, with all those beautiful girls walking around giving him a
flirty glance, he preferred talking to me. “Well I am not a photographer, but I do photography. Ah…
you wanna check it out?” I was mortified by my own audacious reaction. Wow!

“Sure. Let’s go to that café and guess what if I like your photos you may teach me photography,” he
said pointing at the café across the road. I’d never witnessed such gorgeously heartbreaking smile;
mind you not even a single girl I knew could’ve smiled like that.

That day was the beginning of a new friendship that blossomed into a rose of love, true love. I was
happy he loved me and so did I, despite the fact that it would be stone hard for us to convince our
families and the society. Of course, it brought us great anxiety thinking of the outcome everyday. But
no matter how chaotic things were we decided never to leave each other. We believed in killing for
love, not getting killed.

Today, I stand in front of his house. A total melancholic pile of bricks put together with cement
forming his or rather his parents’ mansion. This was it, few minutes of hardship, few minutes
without mercy, and few minutes filled with catharsis and then we would be together. I was nervous
though. Hell, why wouldn’t you be nervous, when you’re going to kill you boyfriend’s parents.

His parents were real hypocrites living just for the society. When they had found out about us - they
felt like lambs about to be butchered by the mocking world. They couldn’t let that happen. They did
their wicked best to keep us apart. Alas! It’s not that easy. We had a little plan of our own; indeed
we were saving them from the butchers. Well, we can at least do that amount for the ones who gave
us birth but forgot to give us life.

The door was kept open; Roy had done that. I walked fast but soundless, then up the stairs and
stopped in front of his parents’ bedroom. I was pant- wetting terrified. Then I slowly turned the knob
of the door. It was open, thank god! ‘So far so good’ I said to myself. As I opened the door inch by
inch adrenaline gushed into my veins like one of those extremely fast express trains of Japan. It was
pitch black inside and there was no sign of life as if they were already dead. I was about to make the
next move when suddenly the lights went on.

His parents were lying on the floor, drenched in their own little pool of blood. Blood was splashed
everywhere and in one corner of the room, I saw him. He was looking vicious, filled with the aura of
madness, holding a six-inch knife in his hands. He looked at me and said, “Its over Dave, its over. I
killed them. We can be together now.”

Roy had killed his parents. I couldn’t believe that we were free at last. Death of Roy’s parents gave
new life to us. We hugged each other for a long time. It was hysterical and it was all over the room.
This was sublime. Our greatest fantasy had come true. We were over thrilled by the idea of being
together forever. Our love had won the battle against the world.

Today, we were re- united. Today, we had our Catharsis - our long awaited revenge.