7 July 2006, Action-Man, Kathmandu
The king of Nepal is a sad, sad man. In the past three months he has lost his kingdom and all his power. The Nepalese people wanted freedom and democracy; he wanted otherwise. The people won out. They rallied in the capital streets in April and May--thousands of them. I can see why they won out because today I stood in those same crowded streets and felt the pushing and shoving of these small but powerful people. They will have their way. They had had enough war, so they rose up together against it. And when an entire people revolts, what can the government do? Their own heart is against them. Today I watched the royal guards' futile attempts to organize the crowds into lines at the king's palace. Strangely enough, the people came out to see him on his birthday, bearing flowers. Though they've stripped him of his power, they still regard him as a figure. I suspect, though, that even that will be taken from him soon enough.
I, too, gathered in the lines to see the king outside his palace. Yogya and I had no flowers to present when we entered his courts, so we swindled a few out of some young girls in exchange for coconut cookies. Then we picked more from the king's own garden to complete our bouquets. When I bowed and delivered my gift, he seemed to be having the worst birthday of his life. The drooping pile of flowers before him was wet from the rain. A long line still waited to greet him late into the afternoon. What a sad, sad, man.
Before we saw the king, Yogya took us through the Hindu temples in Durbar Square. Prayer wheels spun and incense burned. Goats waited for the slaughter. Nepal alone hosts 33 million of the Hindu gods, and the pantheon must be pleased by sacrifice.
After he took us through his country's temples, we took him to ours--the cinema. Superman was showing near the palace for 175 rupees. That's a high price for most Nepalis (about three bucks), so you'll find only the most elite at the theaters. When we stepped in, apart from bits of Nepalese chatter, we had entered the West again. During the movie I completely lost my sense of place. We ate popcorn and downed cokes. We watched Clark Kent save Lois Lane and New York City, all in English. But when the doors opened at the end, we entered eastern streets again, grit and cows and all. We ate daal baht (rice and lentils) and momos (dumplings)--Nepal again.
Drew
I, too, gathered in the lines to see the king outside his palace. Yogya and I had no flowers to present when we entered his courts, so we swindled a few out of some young girls in exchange for coconut cookies. Then we picked more from the king's own garden to complete our bouquets. When I bowed and delivered my gift, he seemed to be having the worst birthday of his life. The drooping pile of flowers before him was wet from the rain. A long line still waited to greet him late into the afternoon. What a sad, sad, man.
Before we saw the king, Yogya took us through the Hindu temples in Durbar Square. Prayer wheels spun and incense burned. Goats waited for the slaughter. Nepal alone hosts 33 million of the Hindu gods, and the pantheon must be pleased by sacrifice.
After he took us through his country's temples, we took him to ours--the cinema. Superman was showing near the palace for 175 rupees. That's a high price for most Nepalis (about three bucks), so you'll find only the most elite at the theaters. When we stepped in, apart from bits of Nepalese chatter, we had entered the West again. During the movie I completely lost my sense of place. We ate popcorn and downed cokes. We watched Clark Kent save Lois Lane and New York City, all in English. But when the doors opened at the end, we entered eastern streets again, grit and cows and all. We ate daal baht (rice and lentils) and momos (dumplings)--Nepal again.
Drew
posted by Unknown at 6:57 AM
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