Terai travelogue: New Nepal

I set out on a 600-km drive from Kathmandu to Jhapa, my home district, last week. My original plan was to take advantage of the longest day in the calendar -June 21. But a nationwide strike called by the Madhesi People's Rights Forum (MPRF) forced me to postpone my departure for the next day. I was cognizant of the uncertainty and the risks of highway travel; still, I chose to drive. How long could I defer driving about in my own country?

June 22, I thought, was a relatively safe day for driving along the East-West highway, for, no one had announced a banda. Only a few hours later I was proven wrong. When I reached Hariwon in Sarlahi district in the midday heat, the road was blocked and vehicles were stuck in a kilometers-long traffic jam. Somehow I managed to drive past the stranded vehicles and reached a point where a group of young boys had blocked the highway. I approached one of them and asked why the highway was blocked. In response he said, "I am YCL." I asked the question again and he repeated the same answer. Then I took out my press identity card and told him that I was headed for Jhapa on official work. The YCL guy inspected the ID-card with suspicion but let me go after a while. "Get in the car; drive quick or else you'll be stuck here forever," he said.

My cousins, seated in the car, heaved a sigh of relief. In a few minutes we were speeding along at 110 kms per hour on the traffic-free high-way. Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho kya gum hai jisko chhupa rahe ho - my cassette player was back in action.

Soon I was past Sarlahi district. But images of the stranded passengers stayed with me. Among them were the young, the elderly, the new born and women. Their tired, angry, frustrated faces kept flashing in front of my eyes. Hariwon at noon was so mercilessly hot that the black-topped highway was like an oven and the vehicles like furnaces. Passengers could not remain seated inside the buses; they could not get out onto the highway for a respite. There wasn't enough water for the stranded to drink-let alone food. Even if there was enough food, you bet not everyone had the money to buy. How many Nepalis can afford to carry extra money for a contingency?

I reached home safe and sound before dusk. My parents, both in their early seventies, were happy that their son had made it home. Suddenly I realized that reaching home safe had become a big deal in Nepal!

The next morning I was headed for Biratnagar to do some shopping for my brother's wedding. The day looked pretty normal - farmers were busy in their fields since morning ploughing and planting; the sun was hot as usual; the East-West highway was full of bustling traffic; shops were open and people were shopping.

After lunch I set out on the second leg of my Biratnagar shopping. Even as I approached the downtown area shopkeepers were downing the shutters one after another; rickshaw pullers were racing out of the place as if they were escaping being swamped by volcanic lava flow. A man running in the opposite direction told me to make a U-turn and speed away: The YCL was forcing a sudden strike in Morang, Sunsari and Saptari after they heard the news of the cold-blooded killing of Maoist Saptari district leader Govinda Choudhary.

I tried to get out of Biratnagar as fast as I could. But I was stopped at over a dozen places by militant YCL cadres. I was interrogated- even stared at in many places- but I successfully negotiated my 'release' each time I was stopped, thanks to my press ID.

But many others were forced off their rickshaws, motorbikes and other vehicles. Some of them were manhandled, others verbally abused for arguing. One car was torched and another vandalized for not obeying the YCL's instant banda order.

Hundreds of passengers were caught off guard and were to be seen walking the highway, carrying their heavy luggage, and sweating ceaselessly. Whether and when they made it to their destinations is unknown.

The next day YCL cadres burnt down six trucks in Siraha for violating their three-day strike order. Transporters retaliated with an indefinite strike. The terai was once again left in the lurch - its hopes of a peaceful future and its faith in the political parties and the state thoroughly shaken.

When I left Jhapa on July 1, life there was still paralyzed by multiple bandas, called by multiple actors. When I drove the Jhapa-Hetauda section of the East-West highway, the only vehicles I met were four ambulances and a few motorcycles. I raced through the empty roads, and so did my heart filled with ominous feelings. How could 300 kms of the East-West, the lifeline of the country, remain empty for so many days? And why would I have to fear driving through Saptari, Siraha, Sarlahi, Dhanusha and Bara?

Choudhary's murder should be deplored in the strongest of terms, for the sanctity of human life is inviolable. But isn't that what we have been trying to persuade the Maoists about all through the last 11 years, and also what they have been rejecting all along?

If the death of one Maoist cadre deserves to be retaliated with so much of destruction what happens if the people decide to make up for the 13,000 lives lost during the insurgency on similar terms?

At six in the evening the same day, I reached Hetauda. Much relieved that I had left the riskier stretch of the highway behind, I tuned into my FM radio. There came the news: "Prachanda is leaving for Switzerland on a study tour along with other leaders in a couple of hours." I switched it off. Good luck, comrade. May your dream come true!