RUPAK D SHARMA

On January 28, I received an e-mail from my chief news coordinator asking me to cover the-then Home Minister Bam Dev Gautam’s health condition. He was suffering from heart and kidney related problems and from news reports I had come to know that he had just arrived in Thailand’s capital Bangkok. Since I was in Bangkok then, it was not difficult for me to find out the hospital he was admitted to and the room in which he was staying. But in the course of tracking his whereabouts, I also stumbled upon another piece of information: Former Deputy Prime Minister Shailaja Acharya was also undergoing treatment in the same hospital.

Shailaja had always been a mysterious figure for me. Although I had never gotten the opportunity to talk to her in person before, I had heard of her as someone who did not fear speaking her mind. That is probably why she was labeled ‘nuts’ by many when she publicly said political parties should team up with the king and not with the Maoists.

That was during the time when the movement against the-then king’s direct rule had reached its zenith and political parties were close to attaining their goal of turning Nepal into a republican state. Such a comment at a time when people were frustrated with the king was definitely not going to make her popular but her decision not to go with the flow made her stand out from the crowd. This was also one of the reasons why I wanted to meet her – to satiate all the curiosity I had regarding her personality and political ideology.

Next day, after trudging through the lobby and floors of the Bumrungrad Hospital, which looks more like a 5-star hotel than a place where people undergo treatment, I finally come to her room. I open the door but see a small, frail and aged figure with a boy-cut hair sitting in an armchair. Her hair had turned gray and her hands were resting uncomfortably on the arms of the chair. In fact, she was sitting there like a statue, with oxygen pipes plugged to her nose. And she was gazing at nothingness, as if she was lost in a vast abyss, unaware of her surroundings and what was going on around her.

“No, this can’t be, I must have entered the wrong room,” I said to myself and began walking out of the room when I heard “Bhai, Nepali ho? (Are you a Nepali?),” from a lady inside the room.

It turned out that I was in the right place and the lady who was calling me was Mita Acharya, Shailaja’s sister-in-law. But even then I could not believe my eyes: The sight of Shailaja was simply harrowing. She was no longer a lady with thick spectacles and long hair. And she was no longer the leader that I had known – the armchair she was sitting in and the frail figure had outstripped the recognition she had received when she had waved the black flag to King Mahendra during his direct rule and when she had resigned as the agriculture minister after being unable to put an end to corrupt practices there. The sight was too overwhelming – a reality of ageing, I guess.

Then Mita introduced me to her: “He’s a journalist; he’s come to interview you.” But Shailaja gave me a blank stare without uttering a word. She would nod her head at times as if she understood what her sister-in-law was saying and make some sort of guttural sound. That’s when I realized she had lost the ability to talk.

As I go on talking with Mita, Shailaja would just gaze at the television with her mouth wide open. I don’t know whether she understood whatever was being broadcast but her attentiveness made me convinced that at least her brain was still functioning. That was when I heard a loud guttural cry, “oooye”, from Shailaja which indicated she was agitated. It was actually a nurse who was trying to feed her some liquid diet. But Shailaja was trying to shove her away indicating she was not hungry or thirsty. As the nurse became more forceful, she succumbed. But the signs of irritation etched in her face clearly said she was not happy. After Mita calmed her with jolly demeanor, she felt more comfortable, but her eyes were already brimming with tears. I don’t know what she felt but most probably she was hurt – hurt because she was being forced to do what she didn’t want to.

Later when Mita told me that doctors suspected Shailaja of suffering from Alzheimer’s did the mystery behind her odd behavior start to unravel. I then came to know she was living in a shadow of an illness that ravages the brain and erases all memories. In fact, she was living in a world she no longer completely understood.

Her condition had worsened so much she wasn’t able to perform all the duties that an ordinary human being does. She had to be fed and taken to the toilet every now and then. Fearing she would soil her body with bodily wastes, such as urine and stool, nurses used to put diapers on her 24 hours a day. And before she went to sleep, the doctors used to put on artificial ventilator on her to support her respiratory system in case she forgot to breathe while sleeping.

All this was too upsetting. I had come there to know more about one of the prominent leaders of our country but ended up being even more confused about what pushed her to a condition in which she didn’t even remember her identity. Mita had told me it was depression, which had worsened, that led her to this stage. But what sowed seeds of depression in her in the first place?

After talking to Mita for a while, I bid farewell and walked out of the room but with a heavy heart and many of the questions still unanswered. She is no longer with us today but will all the mystery surrounding her disentangle?Published in Republica on June 20, 2009

Rupak D Sharma

Last week at a conference in Manila, Takeshi Kawasaki, a lecturer at The Asahi Shimbun’s Institute of Journalism asked me how martial law was faring for Nepal. For a while I was dumbfounded and quickly asked him whether he was joking.

Mr Kawasaki was a modest person and like most of the Japanese he was also down-to-earth. I even found him to be a friend of Nepal when he told me that many Japanese, who were gradually reviving their lost faith in religion – ie Buddhism/Taoism – wanted to visit Nepal, especially the birth place of Lord Buddha, Lumbini.

That gave me an impression that he was pretty serious about the remark on “martial law” he made on Nepal.

To convince him I had to explain that Nepal was still mired in dirty political wrangling but the 10-year long war had ended and things were not as bad as before. I also clarified that Nepal was NOT under the martial law.

He was pleased with my answer but it left me wondering whether people like him would even consider visiting Nepal while they held such views regarding the country?

For a Nepali traveling abroad, it has become difficult to convince the foreigners that things have improved since the Maoists dropped their weapons and joined the political mainstream. They frequently watch news footage or read about frequent protests in Nepal that usually turn violent. All those feeds give them the idea that Nepal is degenerating into a state where chaos and unruly demonstrations are rife. And all this is taking a toll on the country’s tourism industry, keeping people like Mr Kawasaki’s friends at a fix.

Last year, I asked a high-ranking official of UNGEI how Nepal was known in the US. I was expecting answers like Land of Mount Everest, Land of Buddha or even land of beautiful natural spots. But to my surprise she said “land of turbulence.” Maybe I was too naïve or rather ten years behind time to think Everest and Buddha were still identities of Nepal. I was speechless and couldn’t argue with her or tell her that she was wrong.

Every day protests that create a gridlock on the streets or the culture bandhs that bring everything to a standstill may have become a way of life for us Nepalis but they are certainly not natural for westerners or people in East or Southeast Asia.

Protests in themselves are not bad. They are a part of a vibrant democratic system. But there are ways to hold them. For instance, the anti-government protests were held in Thailand for three months since August last year. The demonstrators at that time had captured the prime minister’s office and were staying there round the clock. But they never resorted to vandalism, meaning the protests were relatively peaceful and did not affect day to day lives of people. Many people in other countries did not even know about the demonstrations. It went on like this for three months until November, when it spilled onto other parts of the city. Then footage of one of the protesters pointing a revolver flooded the international television channels and people planning to travel to Thailand started canceling their trips. I was in Thailand at that time and things were not as bad as many international media had portrayed them to be. I then started receiving calls from family back home and my friends started e-mailing me requesting me to stay put. Probably were thinking revolver-totting protesters were running scot free in Bangkok, which was not the situation. Then the protesters made a foolish move and seized the airport on November 27 last year, interrupting all domestic and international flights. Many foreign visitors were stranded in the city while Thais who were abroad couldn’t enter the country. Although the government gave compensations for the expenses incurred by stranded tourists, the damage was already done. And in the following months tourist arrivals fell by nearly 50 percent. Even today, along with global economic slowdown, that unruly act of capturing the Bangkok’s international airport is blamed as one of the reasons for the decline in the number of foreign visitors.

This gives an example of how fragile the tourism industry is. And at a time when the competition is rife and lots of destinations are offering similar packages, one foolish act made by a single group can make millions of travelers change their plans. And when these travelers opt to go to some other destination, it can have harsh impacts on tourism-dependent individuals on bottom rungs of the economic ladder.

Nepal’s tourism industry is not as big as Thailand’s. Thailand attracts around 14 million tourists every year and its tourism industry contributes to more than 30 percent of the country’s GDP. Whereas ours’ contributes to around three percent of the GDP. But despite being small we know it has been creating lots of self-employment opportunities along the trekking routes and other tourist hotspots. And a small decline in the number of tourists can affect the incomes of people who sell tea and operate small shops or restaurants or souvenir shops. In worst case, it can even render them jobless. These are the people who will find themselves bruised by clashes taking places on the streets of capital, and not those well-off tour operators or travel agents.

Nepal has announced 2011 as the Tourism Year and plans to attract one million tourists. But all footages of protests on the streets of Kathmandu relayed by international television are only giving a negative publicity about the country. On top of that the US government has recently issued travel warning to its citizens to not visit Nepal, due to protests and clashes taking place. It’s time we realize that democracy is about respecting other people’s rights and not violating their rights in the name of safeguarding one’s own.

Regarding Mr Kawasaki, I told him that Nepal is not as dangerous as he imagined it to be. I also asked him to recommend his friends to travel to Lumbini. But will they?Published in Republica on May 31, 2009

By Rupak D Sharma in Bangkok

Dear Comrade Prachanda (aka Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal),

Laal Salam! (Red Greetings?)

I just finished reading Aravind Adiga’s The White Tiger and was kind of inspired by his writing. I know I should have done that long time back—I mean read the book—but, you know, time constraints and all that stuff. Anyways, since I’m done with it now I thought I might as well use the free time that I have now writing something to my own prime minister like Aravind did to Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao. Now please don’t start looking at your watch, my letter won’t be an entire 320-page novel like his.

Before I start I would like to ask you one thing though. Have you read his novel? I bet you have. After all it won this year’s Man Booker Prize.

So which part of the novel annoyed you the most? I guess it was the same part, isn’t it Mr Premier? Yes, the part in which he describes all Nepali girls in India as prostitutes. Well he has even called one of our security guards, Ram Bahadur, a ‘sly’ figure. I did manage to take this as a joke but when he introduced our sisters as ‘whores’ the smile on my face, brought by his witty sarcasms all the while, turned into a frown. If Aravind were around me at that time, I would have whacked him—like your boys do all the time to those who stand against them, don’t they Mr Premier?

It is really upsetting, you know, Mr Prachanda, when someone describes Nepalis like that. Well, I won’t deny that none of our girls are into that profession in India but at least he shouldn’t have generalized.

Wow, is this what you call the nationalistic fervor!

I know I should not let it rule me. But I cannot help it. I even tried to console myself saying that Aravind had even made fun of his own fellow Indians from the South, calling them ‘negros’ and former slaves of North Indians. But that didn’t help me. I bet all the Nepalis who read the novel will feel the way I do.

And don’t you think it’s natural Mr Prime Minister. Even Americans who hated their President, George W Bush, were against that Iraqi journalist who threw a pair of shoes at him.

By the way, Mr Premier, did you notice that Booker Prize winner of 2006 – what was her name… ah Kiran Desai — did the same thing. I mean, she also tried to discredit all the Nepalis living in Darjeeling through her novel, The Inheritance of Loss. Probably you should talk to the panel of judges who finalize the name for Bookers Prize winner and find out whether one of criteria for winning the prize is whacking Nepalis. If that’s true then I’d be a f***ing joke, wouldn’t it. (By the I way, I don’t have a habit of using foul language. It’s Aravind who taught me this. And he’s repeated this phrase over and over again in his novel.)

Now, Mr Premier, let me share a little secret with you. But before that let me introduce myself to you. I’m a journalist and I’m currently based in Bangkok. My colleagues here come from Malaysia, the Philippines and of course Thailand. During my stay here, I’ve also made couple of friends from Singapore, Viet Nam, Cambodia and Laos. Mr Premier, do you know how my friends from Southeast Asia know Indians? They know them as people who are cunning, who know how to play office politics and who don’t live up to their promises. Suddenly I found out that the term Indian is no longer a noun here, it’s become an adjective – an adjective to describe people who are cunning, who can play office politics and who don’t live up to their promises. So next time you hear somebody say Indian John – don’t assume him to be a John from India. You should take him as John – who may be from the US, the UK or even Nepal – who is cunning, who can play office politics and who won’t live up to his promises.

Some of my friends here are so afraid of them they try to stay as far away as possible from them. Probably they’ve contracted Indo-phobia.

I really feel bad for all the Indians now. I actually studied in India for around three years and I have some very good Indian friends. And they are not cunning; they don’t play politics; and they live up to their promises. But because of very few unethical people, they’ll have to pay the price as well.

Now don’t put that stupid grin on your face—which you are quite famous for—just because I said something against the Indians. Saying something against them does not cleanse the reputation of our female population damaged by Aravind. So Mr Premier what do you think should be done?

I know what you’re thinking now. You’ve decided to send some of your boys to whack that author, haven’t you? But, Mr Prachanda, will sending your boys stop them from speaking? I don’t think so. Instead, your beatings will hurt those people and they’ll scream, meaning more people will hear them. Besides, you will also have to face the wrath of the rights groups, which ultimately will create more problems for you.

So why not we do some soul searching and find out where we went wrong. What do you say?

It’s true that Nepalis’ image has tarnished over the years. Yes, we are still known as brave and hard working people. But on top of that we’re also known as illegal migrant workers, drug peddlers and even prostitutes (like Aravind said, if that’s true). But all these titles were given to us because of the mistakes committed by a few. I know even these people who are illegal immigrants and who carry drugs didn’t do it for pleasure. Our country’s inability to create decent-paying jobs forced them to do so.

Some months ago, when I was talking to Dr Sanduk Ruit — while he was here in Bangkok – he said that Nepalis have to work twice as much as people from developed or developing worlds to prove their worth. And that’s true Mr Premier. People don’t trust us easily nowadays because we are no longer known as Nepalis of the past. Even if they trust us they trust us for those 3D—dirty, dangerous and demeaning—jobs. So what do you make of that Mr Premier. Do you have any plans on changing the image of the country and its people?

By the way, how did you come to power. I wasn’t there in the country during the elections but if I’m not mistaken many voted for your party because you had promised change. You probably did not say “yes we can” like Barack Obama did, but you said something similar, if I’m not wrong. However, today what are we seeing – your boys threatening people, coercing people to do what they don’t want to do, and if not whacking them.

Another secret, Mr Premier. I also liked to whack people. But I was in Grade 7 at that time. Copying those Western and Indian movies, me and couple of my friends had even formed a gang in the school. And you know where we used to have our gang fights. In one corner of the bird’s section in Lalitpur’s zoo. But that was in Grade 7, Mr Premier. I guess your boys who stormed Himal Media and couple of other firms in the recent past are not in Grade 7.

And if they are so fond of smacking people why not organize fights every week or every month, say for example in the zoo. Your boys can call whoever they want and vent their anger in the ring. And the money generated from the ticket sales can go to the national coffer.

Hedge fund managers—battered by global economic slowdown—recently organized such a fight in Hong Kong and they raised around US$129,000. Seriously. I’m not joking. May be we can discuss more about holding frequent fights later.

Well, I don’t want to take more of your precious time. But before I end my letter, I would like to remind you again about the need to give a facelift to the image of Nepal and the Nepalis. Think about it Mr Premier.

Yours Truly,

Rupak D Sharma
Journalist
PS: Please give my regards to your wife and son.

By Rupak D Sharma in Bangkok

On a recent Saturday afternoon inside Mitra store in Bangkok’s Chatuchak weekend market, a customer was precisely going through a stack of Nepal-made embroidered cushion covers. Except for this man, the only other people inside the store at that time were three shop attendants and a co-owner—all of whom were quietly arranging goods or looking over the shoulder of this crouching client silently counting the number of covers he had selected. For around an hour, the scene remained almost static, except for the entry of some window shoppers, who’d pore over the goods neatly hung in the hangers, ask for price then turn away.

For Tsering Ghale, a Nepali who has been helping his cousin run the store for the last seven years, this is not a pleasing sight. “I have been used to seeing lots of customers during this time of the year but this time all we are doing is attending a handful of clients,” he said.

Mitra, established by Nepali citizen, Gabo Gurung, has been in business in Thailand for around a decade now. Over the years, the company, a retail and wholesale supplier of Nepal-made street wear fashion and home textile products, has built quite a reputation among a niche crowd for its floral-print ladies T-shirts, rave trousers, embroidered ladies bag and cushion covers. It currently has three stores in Bangkok and its customers include not only Thais but Japanese, Indonesians, Singaporeans and Filipinos.

But after years of success the company is on the brink of a brutal contraction as customers are not placing substantial orders. “Sales were down almost 70 percent in November compared with that of last year…. Figures of December are also dizzying,” Gurung said declining to give numbers.

“Maybe this is the harbinger of the worse days to come.”

Gurung’s apprehension is typical of the gloom that has enveloped almost 20 Nepali businesses operational here. They have to pay monthly rents ranging from anywhere between 12,000 baht to 100,000 baht (approximately Rs 24,000-Rs 200,000) and take care of staff too. But, there are very few buyers for their products like silver jewelry, metal home-décor items or apparels.

A Nepali, who owns a metal home-décor shop in Chatuchak weekend market, said requesting anonymity that the only income that he made on Saturday was 120 baht (approximately Rs 240). “If this is the situation in the peak season I don’t know what to expect in the months to come,” he added with a dejected expression on his face.

For tourism-dependent businesses like Gurung’s and the other Nepali’s, November and December are the months to mint money. It’s the time of the year when people from Europe and the US drop down to countries like Thailand to escape the winter days in their homelands. And along with these hordes of farangs (Westerners in Thai) come most of their customers who resell these goods to them.

However, after months of anti-government protests limited to the prime minister’s office started spilling onto the Bangkok streets in November, tourist arrivals in Thailand declined by around 40 per cent in that month. Matters became worse after the anti-government group captured the country’s two major airports for a week (beginning November 25) bringing all flight operations to a grinding halt.

“Although the protests have subsided for now and airports have also reopened, these brazen acts have turned Thailand’s name of being a safe tourist destination into a myth,” Gurung said. “It will take a long time for the country to restore its old image as many foreigners have returned home saying they’ll never come back to Thailand again.”

The extent of damage inflicted by the protests can be seen through government’s tourist arrivals projection for next year. It has said arrivals of foreign visitors will fall to half in 2009 from an estimated 13.5 million this year. Factor in the effects of global economic slowdown and it makes a recipe for a perfect a disaster.

Thailand has already said that it will lose around 1.1 million jobs by the second quarter next year due to the economic turmoil. This will definitely force this pool of workers to make heavy reduction on spending. But its effect won’t stop here. It will also generate fear of job-loss among those who are employed, fracturing their confidence and making them thrifty. The same applies for customers in other parts of Asia, Europe and the US, to whom many Nepalis operating businesses here are selling luxurious goods like silver jewelry and expensive metal home-décor items. All these mean, demand for goods sold by Nepali businesses will remain subdued next year, pushing them to the verge of collapse.

“I think by the time the dust settles around 60 percent of businesses run by Nepalis will have vanished from the scene,” Gurung said.

As for him he’ll see for a year. He added: “Well I can’t do anything about the global economic slowdown but if the political situation continues to worsen I might have to relocate my business to countries like Vietnam or Malaysia.”

Rupak D Sharma in Bangkok

Michelle Obama, US presidential hopeful Barack Obama’s wife, was spotted recently wearing an abstract patterned black-and-red kimono-inspired dress at the Democratic convention. That outfit was designed by Thailand-born Thakoon Panichgul.

Some time ago, another Thai designer, Disaya Sorakraikitikul, received similar honour when Amy Winehouse was featured in the cover of her best selling album, Back to Black, donning a dress designed by her.

Then there is Zhang Zhifeng of China, who was chosen by the prince of Denmark to make an evening gown for his fiancé. And there are designers like Tae Ashida of Japan, who are silently wooing European customers in France.

Being a factory to the world, Asians have long seen Western customers draped in clothes made in Asia. But this time around Asians are actually beginning to see Asians designing clothes for Westerners.

However, this is not the first time Asians are rising in the global fashion scene. A similar trend was seen in the beginning of 1980s when Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto and Issey Miyake generated a wave of what was known as ‘avant-garde fashion’. The only difference between then and now is: In the ‘80s it was only Japanese designers who were representing Asians while this time designers from all across China, India, Thailand, South Korea, Singapore and Indonesia are sharing the stage.

The recently held New York Fashion Week can be used as a gauge to measure the success gained by Asians designers in the West, where more than one-fifth of the designers were either Asians or Asian Americans. Another example can be prestigious events like Paris Fashion Week, which is being penetrated by more and more Chinese, Indians, Thais and Japanese.

Mike Wu, fashion director of Singapore’s BY3 Design, cites globalisation in fashion trends as the main reason for the sudden rise of Asian fashion designers in the West.

With the world becoming a global village, “the cultural gap between the East and the West is narrowing down significantly”, he tells AsiaNews on the sidelines of the Asian Fashion Federation (AFF) Conference in Bangkok. “This is also narrowing down differences in styles and looks in two parts of the world.”

As a result, the line between Asian and Western design is beginning to blur making it easier for Asian designers to navigate their way into the Western fashion market.

Another reason for the success of Asian designers in the West is the backing they have received from the domestic customers.

Take Singaporean designer Ben Wu for instance, who never thought he would be selling his collection in the US when he first started merchandising fashion goods in late 1990s. “At that time I was just pursuing my passion but along the way I also saw this huge demand for fashion wear,” the interior designer turned fashion designer says.

This motivated Ben to launch his own brand. And in 2003 he introduced Tian, a retail label in women’s wear. Since 2006 he has been exporting his collection to US cities such as New York, Florida and Texas. “Had my own people not bought my costumes, I wouldn’t have been in this business,” adds Ben, who recently displayed his collection at the Bangkok International Fashion Fair.

What Ben was also trying to point out was the rising income levels of Asians which is boosting their purchasing capacity. With more money in their wallets, Asians are now blinded by consumerism and they no longer see clothes as something that only covers the body. Costumes, to them now, are license to define their identity and status symbol, and they no longer hesitate to pay for it. This consumer revolution, in turn, is encouraging fashion designers to break the boundaries and come up with daring styles.

Daichi Shiraki, a 26-year-old Japanese fashion designer, agrees that the rising demand in the domestic market is helping fashion designers like him to be more innovative.

“Today my customers (in Japan) don’t care where the apparel comes from and they don’t only look for Western brands as long as the outfits catch their imagination. This was not the case six years ago,” says Shiraki, who has been exporting his label, Boisnonverni, to Russian market. “This is giving designers like me a leeway to experiment more.”

All these suggest that Asian designers are being accepted worldwide. And along with Asian designers, Asian designs and styles are also slowly gaining acceptance. This is probably one of the reasons why Americans and Europeans are now being seen in South Asian salwar kameez or Southeast Asian silk sarong or reinvented versions of East Asian kimono. And with renowned Western brands like Balenciaga and Hermes designing outfits with Chinese and Indian prints, a day might come when there will be no such thing as Eastern or Western style.

Says David Wang, AFF Singapore chairman: “It is only a matter of time before Asia evolves into a trend setter on par with the fashion capitals of the world.”Published in AsiaNews Sept 19-25 Issue

Rupak D Sharma in Bangkok

Back from the stage, after enthralling the audience in Bangkok, Ravi Bandhu was still on high. “I loved playing to this crowd. It was small but it was great,” he said with a big smile on his face, referring to the audience comprising South Asian and European diplomats.

Couple of minutes ago, the 49-year-old’s fingers were working magic on tabla and katabura, south Asian percussion instruments. Besides him, on the stage, was 45-year-old Pradeep Ratnayake, whose nimble fingers were dancing all over sitar—a stringed instrument.

Together, the Sri Lankan duo had taken an audience of around 60 on an acoustic tour of South Asian classical music.

The concert began with a north Indian classical piece and moved to and fro between Sri Lankan folk music and other Indian classical numbers. This went on for almost half an hour and came an end with The Journey, a South Asian classical number with a tinge of jazz.

Throughout this concert, the only thing most of the audience did was gaze at the two with a feeling of awe. In between, those in the back row would crane their necks, especially when the tempo of music was raised, as if to say they were not willing to miss a single moment of the show. Then they’d show their gratitude to the musicians through their applauses, which were getting louder and louder after each passing number.

“Although South Asian music is not as worldly and fancy as the Western orchestra, most of the people appreciate it because it is spiritual,” said Bandhu, who has been playing tabla and other traditional Sri Lankan drums since the age of 10.

The music is based on melody and rhythm, which usually reflects the mood and emotions of players. “Most of the time, artists let his/her manodharma or imagination flow out of their bodies in forms of music and they exchange these feelings and expressions on the spot,” Bandhu said.

This is one of the reasons why lots of improvisation takes place on stage during the performances of South Asian classical music. “This is to respond to the musical ideas or expressions of the fellow performer,” he explained.

This live exchange of musical expressions between the players, according to Bandhu, reveals the true identity of the musician while on the other generates a curiosity in the audience on how the other performer would react next.

“This also keeps the audience engaged,” he added.

Probably because of these characteristics, South Asian classical music is gaining popularity throughout the world in recent years. Thanks also to maestros like Ravi Shankar and Talvin Singh, whose international performances have helped promote the music in the international arena.

These players have also partnered with various famous international artists and fused the music with Western music, creating a new genre of music and making South Asian music a part of Western music.

If you don’t believe in the popularity of South Asian music and still call it ‘boring’, then Bandhu has some suggestion: Next time you attend a South Asian musical concert, don’t go with a preset mind. To demystify South Asian classical music you have to learn to flow with the music, Bandhu said.

Well if you love jazz and blues, you’d definitely start liking South Asian classical music.Published in AsiaNews Aug 29-Sep 4 Issue

Rupak D Sharma in Pattaya

At a time when political tension was brewing in Bangkok over Thailand’s prime minister’s comment on a possible military intervention in the country, some people in Pattaya, a Thai beach resort city, were laughing.

Laughing, they were rolling on the floor, dancing all around, making faces and indulging in raucous antics.

Their laughter was so infectious, even a crowd of about 200 that had gathered on the ground floor of the Royal Garden Plaza could not keep themselves from going with the flow. As a result the entire floor of the shopping complex was echoing with sounds of ‘ha-ha’ and ‘he-he’.

This happened at the finals of Ripley’s International Laughing Contest held on July 5 in Pattaya. The competition, the first of its kind held in Thailand, was organised by Ripley’s World of Entertainment Pattaya. A total of 23 contestants from all over the world—Thailand, Liberia, England, Sweden, Czech Republic, Israel, France, Belgium, Ireland, Italy, Holland, and the US—had participated in the competition. All of them had one goal: to laugh their way to a 100,000 -baht (US$2,970) prize money.

According to Somporn Saksuetrong, general manager of Ripley’s World Pattaya, the criteria for winning the competition was the same as that laid out by Ripley’s world headquarters in the US. “The winners will be determined based on logarithmic unit of sound intensity in decibels, duration of time they laughed, style and quality of laughter and the infectiousness of the laugh,” he said.

To lay hands on the cash prize, one contestant laughed continuously for 12 and half minutes. Another laughed for almost 11 and half minutes and another for 10 minutes. All of the contestants, clad in unique national costumes, climbed on stage and laughed unabated.

‘’I think she will die when she stops laughing. She laughed for over nine minutes and she is still laughing. It is unbelievable!’’ a foreign audience said referring to one of the participants.

During the two-hour-long programme, the participants also delivered unique packages of laughter. A Liberian spilled his African tribal laugh; an Englishman his aristocratic laugh; a Swedish his serious laugh; and Thais their carefree laugh.

In the end, it was Jattarat Wongsomboon of Thailand who ‘out-laughed’ all of them. The 55-year-old teacher laughed nonstop for 12.26 minutes and took home 100,000 baht. The intensity of her laughter measured 110 decibels.

Kowit Sripong, 32, first runner-up , went home with 10,000-baht ($297). He spent 11.26 minutes laughing onstage and his laughter hit 112.2 decibels. He also bagged the Outstanding National Costume Award, which included a 5,000 baht ($148) cash prize.

Winners were also awarded with the Ripley’s privilege gold card entitling them to free entrance to Ripley’s Museums around the world for a year.

If you can also laugh for a prolonged period of time—without cracking jokes, making humorous verbal attacks or making fun of people—try your luck next time. Ripley’s World of Entertainment Pattaya will host the event again next year. Published in AsiaNews July18-24 Issue

Rupak D Sharma in Bangkok

In December of 1970, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s party, the Awami League, wins elections in Pakistan with a clear majority. However, the victory of Awami League, a major political party in East Pakistan, is not acceptable to those in West Pakistan.

There is widespread opposition in the Pakistani military and the Islamic political parties to Mujibur becoming Pakistan’s prime minister. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, leader of Pakistan People’s Party, the largest West Pakistani party at that time, even threatens to boycott the assembly if Mujibur is allowed to form the new government.

As the rift between leaders of East and West Pakistan widens, Mujibur calls for independence of East Pakistan and asks the people to launch civil disobedience campaigns against the West Pakistani regime which had always treated them as third-class citizens. The people of East Pakistan, who were infuriated by the central government’s treatment of the devastating November’s cyclone victims, readily join in.

Following this, then Pakistani president Yahya Khan bans the Awami League, declares martial law and orders the army to arrest Mujibur and other East Pakistani leaders and activists. The ruthless decision, however, forces Mujibur to declare independence of East Pakistan at midnight on March 26, 1971, giving birth to Bangladesh.

Mujibur is later arrested and sent to prison in the West. But this does not quell the tension and the army can do nothing to stop the people, who by that time were determined to liberate Bangladesh from the hands of the authoritarian West Pakistani regime.

Bangladeshi writer Tahmima Anam’s debut novel, A Golden Age, finds its root in this tensed environment, where West Pakistan’s so-called attempt to restore order in Bangladesh results in terror and bloodshed. It is a story of a country at war, where chaos is the order of the day and disappearance and murder of people become everyday affair.

Amidst this situation, Rehana Haque, a widowed mother of two, finds it increasingly difficult to protect her children. Like every mother she has selfish love for them and since she had once been separated from them after her husband’s death she does not want to repeat the same ordeal.

But the war’s intensity is so great, no one can easily isolate or escape from it. As some of the characters of the novel put it: “Everyone is fighting—even people who weren’t so sure, people who wanted to stay with Pakistan.”

Then finally one day, Rehana’s eldest son, Sohail, comes home and says he has joined a clandestine guerilla operation launched by university students.

At first Rehana finds it hard to believe him. Yes, he was the revolutionary type who had posters of Lenin and Che Guevara on his room’s walls. He also recited speeches like ‘Peking or Moscow? Third World Socialism’ and ‘Jinnah: Statesman or Imperialist Demagogue?’ in college. But Rehana never thought her son would go this far. After all, she had always known him as a pacifist, someone who would not rush to join a war.

In this, as in all other things, Rehana tries to veer between “indulgence and censure”. “There was a part of her that wanted to allow her children to do anything—any whimsy, any zeal, any excess,” the author explains. “Another part of her wanted them to have nothing to do with it all, to keep them safe, at home.”

Rehana chooses the former and allows Sohail to go to war. In the meantime, her daughter, Maya, who had also joined the revolution, moves to Kolkata in India to work for a newspaper, which was supporting the Bangladeshi independence movement.

At this juncture, Rehana finds herself all alone in the house. Instead of Sohail and Maya, she starts living with talks about whereabouts of Mujibur and Anwar Sadaat and uproar, in the city or beyond, in Islamabad, where one punishing law after another was passed. “And every hiccup of the political landscape made its way to their door,” Tahmima writes.

A Golden Age is a story about a mother trying to keep her family intact during war. It is about the contribution made by a liberal middle-class Muslim family—living in harmony with Hindus—in liberating Bangladesh from the hands of Pakistan. It is a story about curfew sirens, empty streets, closed shops, locked gates, a burned and blistered city. At the same time it is also a story about courage and sacrifices, where mothers lose their children, wives mourn the death of their husbands and friends bury their fellow companions.

However, to give a light flavour to the gripping story the writer also talks about the love life of central character, Rehana, with a former army major who stays in her house for 96 days to recuperate from a major injury. She also talks about delicious foods like, paratha, samosa and puri and old Hindi as well as some English songs to give a breezy touch.

Tahmima’s style is sure and sharp, studded with illuminating images. She has not gone to the extent of over-explaining her characters and the novel’s plot is not monotonous.

Try the novel and you will have a sound knowledge on how Bangladesh emerged as an independent country in the 1970s. The book will also give you an insight into the strong ties that Bangladeshi family members maintain that provide them support in times of trouble. Moverover, it also gives you a bird’s eye view of Bangladeshi culture, their idea of merrymaking and their fondness for food.

Rupak D Sharma in Pokhara

At the library of Sishu Shishu Kalyan Primary School in Bharatpokhari, around 10km from scenic western city of Pokhara in Nepal, a drawing hanging on the wall shows a cigarette and a cross on top of it. The title of the sketch warns: “Don’t Smoking”.

This gives a hint of the quality of English that the primary school is offering. Ironically, the state-owned Shishu Kalyan had recently changed its language of instruction from Nepali to English to compete with private schools in the locality, which were attracting more students due to their English medium courses.

The initiative taken by this school—where most of the government-run institutions fail to adapt to change as long as they get state subsidy—is praiseworthy. But what kind of products will it generate is a big question.

This kind of quality-related problem in education sector is not only prevalent in Nepal. In India, a survey conducted in 28 states found that 38.2 per cent of the Grade 1 students could not read alphabets and 53.7 per cent failed to identify numbers. While 47 per cent of children in Grade 5 could not even read a Grade 2 text fluently.

Another study conducted in Pakistan showed that a bare majority of Grade 3 students had mastered the Grade 1 mathematics curriculum and only 31 per cent could correctly form a sentence with the word ‘school’ in the vernacular Urdu. While in Laos, only 1 per cent of the children completing Grade 5 were found to have reached a level of competency in mathematics that would allow them to continue their studies further. The corresponding figure for language was 17 per cent.

These instances sum up the quality of education provided by public schools in Asia, where enrollment rates in primary and secondary levels have increased significantly in the last two decades but very few are getting the kind of education that would make them competitive and ensure them decent jobs in the future.

This low quality of education is feared to take a toll on the children of poor families.

As is known, most of the students attending public schools belong to economically disadvantaged families. These families do not even earn US$1 a day and thus cannot afford expensive private school education. Low quality education in this segment means imparting knowledge and skills that will not get recognition in the market.

In today’s knowledge-based society, where people can also generate self-employment through the education, low quality education will ultimately force them and their families to stay in the bottom rungs of the economic ladder.

Another important feature of the students belonging to economically disadvantaged families is that they are first generation learners whose parents have never attended school and do not know the true value of education. If these first generation learners do not see tangible benefits of formal education, they, like their parents, will not consider going to school a worthwhile mission. This may increase their chances of dropping out of school, Rakha Rashid, education specialist of United Nations Children’s Education Fund (Unicef) tells AsiaNews on the sidelines of United Nations Girls Education Initiative (Ungei) Global Advisory Committee meeting held recently in Kathmandu, Nepal.

So who should be blamed for this situation?

As many reports have said, one of the important factors affecting student achievement is teachers. A study conducted among 400,000 students in 3,000 schools worldwide concluded that “while school quality is an important determinant of student achievement, the most important predictor is teacher quality”.

This is where Asia seems to be lagging behind.

Although Southeast and East Asia seem to be having relatively more number of qualified teachers, the situation is particularly startling in South Asia. In Nepal, only 31 per cent of the teachers have received professional training. In Bangladesh, the number is 48 per cent, while in Afghanistan only 36 per cent of the teachers are trained.

“Even in countries where more than 70 per cent of teachers have received professional training, one finds wide variation across different regions,” says professor Rangachar Govinda of National University of Education Planning and Administration of New Delhi.

For instance, the northeastern states in India have a very low proportion of trained teachers compared with other regions. While in other countries, schools located in difficult terrain and schools attended by linguistic minority groups suffer from lack of trained teachers.

But in some cases it is also apathy of teachers. In countries like Nepal, public school teachers usually draw more salary than private school teachers and are at times better trained than private school teachers. However, their performance seems to be lagging behind mainly due to their focus on their private businesses rather than on school work.

This is where organisations like Ungei have to intervene, says Rajan Sharma, advisor of Education Journalists Group, Nepal.

Ungei—which has now taken the initiative of providing quality education to all the children, including those with disabilities and HIV/AIDS—comprises representatives of major donor agencies, including the World Bank and DFID, Danida and Norad, the international development agencies of the UK, Denmark and Norway, respectively.

“Ungei should urge these donor agencies to create pressure on governments to put education on top of the agenda and introduce programmes to enhance the quality of teachers,” says Sharma.

Adds Els Heijen-Maathuis, regional representative of Save the Children-Sweden for South and Central Asia: “Delay in providing proper education to teachers may prove to be detrimental to the achievements made in increasing the enrollment rates of students in schools.”Published in AsiaNews

Rupak D Sharma in Pokhara

Thirty-something Raj Kumar Thapa likes to call himself an open-minded father. Although the fruit seller cannot give a clear definition of an ‘open minded’ person, he deems it has to be someone like him. “Someone who does not discriminate between a boy and a girl child,” he says.

In a conservative male-dominated society like Nepal, where daughters are still considered an economic liability and thus denied equal opportunity, Thapa’s definition of ‘open mindedness’ holds some meaning. But what contradicts his assertion is his choice.

Thapa, a resident of a small village in Hemja, around 10km from Pokhara in Nepal, is a father of three children. From a daily income of 150 rupees to 200 rupees (US$2.17 to $2.90), he is managing to send all of his three children, an eight-year-old son and two daughters aged 12 and 15, to school. The only difference is: while his son attends a private school his two daughters go to a public school.

A soft-spoken Thapa, however, does not consider this discrimination. “It is a compulsion not a choice,” he says. “If I had enough money I would have sent all three children to private school.”

In a country like Nepal, where public schools usually generate unsaleable and inferior products, parents send their children to private school believing education in a private institution will enhance their competency level in the job market. They also believe private school education will teach them how to think critically and turn them into smarter kids than their peers attending public schools.

But the beneficiaries of this quality education, especially in lower-middle class families, usually become boys, as the parents believe it is them who will support the family once they grow old. “Whereas daughters are considered temporary family members, who will stop contributing to the household economy once they get married and move to their husband’s home,” says Om Bahadur Kunwar, a teacher of Gauri Shankar Higher Secondary School.

Because of this belief, parents do not mind investing 10-20 times more on boys’ education. Girls, on the other hand, suffer silent exclusion like in the case of Thapa’s youngest daughter, Ritu, who, despite performing well, was transferred from private to public school while in Grade 3.

This tendency of sending boys to private schools is increasing the population of girls in public schools.

In a village where population of girls and boys is almost equal, statistics of the state-owned Gauri Shankar School show presence of only 134 boys as against 219 girls.

“We do not know how to address this problem but we fear this tendency may develop inferiority complex in girls,” says Kunwar.

After the launch of the Unesco-led Education For All campaign in 1990, various governments, NGOs and donor agencies have been working relentlessly to improve girls’ access to formal education. And in the last 18 years, significant achievements have been made not only in Nepal but throughout Asia. A few decades ago, girls constituted only one-third of the total enrolment in Asia’s primary schools. Whereas today there are nearly equal number of boys and girls in schools. And in some countries in Southeast Asia, such as Malaysia, the Philippines and Thailand, more girls have started attending school than boys.

But even as the presence of girls in the schools are increasing, gender disparities still persist in subtle and insidious ways like in the small village in Nepal.

“These unchallenged gender biases and stereotypes are seriously constraining efforts to achieve true gender equalities,” says professor Rangachar Govinda of the National University of Education Planning and Administration of New Delhi.

These practices, despite rising levels of education, are ultimately limiting overall growth of women and ruining their chances of playing critical roles in the societies.

An example of education failing to benefit women can be seen in Sri Lanka’s non-agricultural labour market. In spite of having higher education level among women, female labour participation in the country is much lower than in Bangladesh and Nepal, meaning most of the women are either engaged in subsistence agricultural activities or staying at home and taking care of children and participating in unpaid labour.

Situation is pretty much the same in India, which recorded lowest female labour participation despite registering high economic growth rates in recent years. In fact, the whole South Asia lags behind the world, where only 18 per cent of women are currently employed in non-agricultural sector, compared with the world average of 39 per cent.

“This unevenness highlights the complexity of efforts required for implementing an agenda of gender equality,” says Govinda.

To address this problem many governments in Asia have introduced laws to ease the entry of women in the labour market and enhance their performance in every sector. Some of the countries like Cambodia, Laos, Indonesia, India, Sri Lanka and Maldives have also established special organisations to streamline gender-related concerns.

“These policy measures and mechanisms have undoubtedly brought gender concerns to the centre stage of policymaking, says Govinda. “But actual progress at the ground level has been very slow.”

He adds: “Effective action in this regard requires strong commitment on the part of the top leadership to push ahead necessary reforms and legislations reforms with a gender perspective. Equally important is the role of the civil society in facilitating transformation of social attitudes and perspectives among the people at large.”

Failure in this regard could spawn more people like Thapa who hold biased attitude towards women.Published in AsiaNews