6:15 am
Kathmandu wakes up to a promising day with dreams to be realized, expectations to be met and promises to be fulfilled. The early hours unfold with the rustling of newspapers revealing the same old political events progressing at the same snail’s pace, yet there is faith in human conduct and people still diligently turn the pages, hoping for something sanguine. The tolling of bells in the background, adds to the optimism in the air.
8:00 am
The shrieking whistles from the kitchen signals, the employed, and job seekers alike hurry up, for we all know what punctuality means, don’t we?
9:30 am
People board microbuses, bus or any available public vehicle. Inside the fumbling radio jockey on the radio bores listeners to the point of death.
10:00 am
The hands of the watch rotate softly, but the microbus only crawls. The young driver loses his patience. He swears, overtakes and performs any and all moves possible on four wheels. Once again the taxi drivers are holding the strike at Koteshwor. Nobody knows the reason but it is definitely taxi drivers versus someone. As always, these incidents usually occur without prior notice, irritating thousands of people on the road. And making people wait for the long hour on a lonely road without no any work just at a place.
11:45 am
The vehicles head straight towards the Ring Road seeking an alternative route to circumvent the strike. Unfortunately, everyone else seems to have the same idea. And all the vehicles get jammed.
12:15 pm
Still at the same place with a hope that vehicles will certainly move from there and reached office to look after the bundle of work made ready by the boss. No one knows what the boss mode is gonna be.
1:00 pm
Life couldn’t be better; the morning so far has comprised of many U-turns, a full 360 rotation of the valley, lots of sighs and some serious cursing. Faces question, “Whose fault is it” “For what reasons” Diagnosis of the problem brings forth comparisons with the political scenario of the bygone day. Many people seem to vent their frustration while for the majority it does not matter; it is a normal price to pay for using the roads, so to speak; a question of luck, of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
3:15 pm
A day wasted for no reasons. Those who do not reach their destinations on time metamorphose into whimpering, sniveling grown-up children, stuck for hours in a jam or a strike. Too many grown-ups child looks absurd and foolish until they go through the same experience.
5:00 pm
One imagines a better life somewhere in America, England, Australia, an easy compromise to the day’s absurdity. And that is not obvious as most do.
6:30 pm
Dust starts to settle and as the fumes recede, the fragmented personality last regains a substantial shape. There are no more accusations and nothing more to escape from.
8:00 pm
The traffic lights powered by solar energy stop working in the dark. The lights blink yellow. Kathmandu, like its traffic lights, comes to a standstill.
The evening news unfolds the mystery of what caused the afternoon mishap. But does it really matter now? The day is wasted; guess work is over and done with. This isn’t rare occasion. It is everyday life, the one that has come to be surprisingly comfortable in this ‘New Nepal’.
9:30 pm
In the darkness of the night, dreams rise. We build a new dream of brick and stones of a regained nation, for all Nepalese alike. No false promises of hopeless possibilities, just a beautiful life. As they say, it is always dark before dawn. Until the ‘waiting’ becomes time without numbers. And the clock keeps ticking.
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