Snake Lake & I

I recently finished reading a book, Snake Lake, by Jeff Greenwald. Both a memoir and a travelogue,the book is set in 1990′s Kathmandu, when the author was working as a freelance journalist for the San Fransisco Examiner. The book unravels the democratic aspirations of Nepali population, and the ultimate success of the ‘People’s Movement’ to establish democracy. Along with author’s quest towards Buddhism, his love life with a fellow American photographer, and tragic events leading to suicide of his brother; the book skilfully narrates few other historical, cultural, social, and political events in Nepal.  The book is simple, funny, interesting, sad, and even shocking; this is a great read, you will love it even more if you are a Nepali.

Festive lights at Naag Pokhari

The title ‘Snake Lake’ refers to ‘Naag Pokhari’, located in central Kathmandu; the author lived in a rented house near this lake. Nag Pokhari is close to my home too, about 15 minutes of walk. I must have walked by it over a thousand times, I must have been in there over a hundred times; but, unlike the author, I never cared for its history, myths, or the physiography.The lake had always been there, like many other cultural/historical/religious monuments, I had taken Nag Pokhari for granted. Jeff Greenwald, however, had a different perspective; his natural curiosity made him better informed. Thankfully, he documented the tales and history surrounding some of these monuments/shrines in Kathmandu, like: relation of ‘Naag’ (Snakes) to Kathmandu, rise of Swayambhunath, why was Ajima temple built near Swayambhunath and why do people offer first to Ajima before offering to Swayambhunath, information on mysterious and inaccessible Shantipur temple, Tibetan and Nepali version of origin of Boudhanath temple, etc.

The political insights provided by the author was also equally interesting. Most Nepalese of my generation, and few generation before me, grew up reading Shah or Rana (the royals and authoritarians) sanctioned history books. Singing ‘hamro raja hamro desh pran bhanda pyaro cha‘ (our king and the country is dearer than our lives) was a norm in every official function. The atrocities of the Royals (and the aristocrats) were confided to few elites, or known to those who directly suffered. It was amazing how people finally came together to brush aside ‘the made for TV’or  ’the poster image’ of warm Royal family and pursued democracy; and how regretful it was for them to stop short of attaining the real democracy, leaving the royals with more than enough power to continue pulling the strings. Some interesting tidbits provided in the book: how differently King Birendra treated Ganesh Man Singh compared to his father and grandfather, Birendra “returning” Nagarjuna Hill back to Nepali people but secretly taking money out of the Nepalese treasury in-return to buy $14 Million Sikorsky helicopter from US Army, older generations associating democracy with anarchy, misguided democratic interpretation of Nepalese public, how clueless and out of touch the interim prime minster was with reality of Nepal (answering that people will get jobs in India or America, when questioned by the author on his plans to solve unemployment problem), etc.

I am copying a section from the book, these words really moved me.

……………Manjushri trekked around the ridges bordering the lake, raised his scimitar, and with a mighty blow cut a gorge in the southern hills. As the waters drained away, the circular valley gleamed like an emerald carpet: a mandala of other worldly beauty, suspended between the plains of India and the peaks of Tibet.

And so it remained, more or less, until the first Toyota taxis arrived. These were joined by diesel buses, and two-stroke Tempos spewing toxic fumes. Cement factories rose among valley’s southern rice paddies, upwind of the city, churning out enough particulate matter to cover the trees with a fine patina of lethal white dust. Caustic chemicals from Tibetan carpet factories flowed into the Bagmati and Vishnumati, until the rivers became so polluted that children playing in the banks suffered chemical burns. Cheap concrete apartment buildings replaced carved wooden homes, and the gaps between these earthquake deathtraps were filled with billboards hawking whiskey and cigarettes. Meanwhile, the population exploded. In the decade since my first visit, Kathmandu had tripled in size.

Yet the magic of the place survived. It was choked and abused, but not even the ragged breath of industry could wilt it completely. There were always hidden realms, new discoveries to be made…………….

Picture Source: Om Yadav @Flickr