I suppose Jesus would say his thank yous and pleases, give up his seat for the old day on a bus and maybe he’d tip generously. The bracelet served as a handy reminder for you to follow suit. But there may be a new need in the market. A niche left gapingly empty for a bracelet designed with every 20-something-Nepali in the country in mind that would ask, WWTNT?[break]
WWTNT begs you to ponder what will the neighbors think? A great question to inscribe on your chest or forehead, or most effectively, hang off your wrist, because let’s be honest, everybody knows that this is the be-all-end-all question.
Thought you felt extra-creative with your outfit, wanted to be all like here-I-go-“expressing”-myself-and-aren’t-I-doing-a-fine-job-of-it? Well, think again, because what will the neighbors think? Decided to invite the harmless but rowdy friends over for a good time on your garden? Big mistake! What will the neighbors think? Consider a late night out with buddies to celebrate a birthday or an anniversary? Un-consider it! What will the neighbors think? Felt like washing your underwear and hanging it to dry on your rooftop?
Oh no, you didn’t. What will the neighbors think? (This one’s really got me, because what are they not supposed to be thinking, that undergarments aren’t to be washed or aren’t to be dried?)
It’s a strange world we live in. And I’m not talking about the world as on God’s green planet. I’m talking about our world, of ways in darling Nepal. We are a mile-long extended family of loving and concerned people who want the best for everyone else. But putting that euphemism aside only suggests that Nepalis may just innately be nosey. And yet I am still left seriously dumbfounded when challenged with the fated five-word question.
I just don’t know what the neighbors will think, that is, even if they do at all. For starters, that I am 24 and have a life and heavens forbid, a boyfriend who I get pizza with on Friday nights; who then drops me off on his bike rather than leave me to meander from Kathmandu to Patan on foot? But my gut feeling tells me I better not suggest that answer. Anyway, I’m more confused and would like to understand that question for itself.
After all, if the neighbors are thinking of me, if they do at all, I have to wonder how they manage to keep track and remember when I come home dressed in what and with whom? If they are studying my habits of existing, am I special, or do they keep track of the whole neighborhood? If so, what does the “neighborhood” constitute – the street or up the hill, too? Is it just one neighbor “thinking”, or is it the entire neighborhood? Can I make them stop? And since I’m guessing I can’t, what do they do with their findings? Is there some comparison of notes? Can I see what my report looks like? Is there a competition or winner declared when one day I may be announced the year’s “most thought about by the neighbors” award? And am I obliged to be thinking of their comings and goings?
Because in all honesty, I only have real conversations with Ganesh Dai who sells me NTC recharge cards, the Raj Dai from the convenience store who is ironically and inconveniently always out of coke, and Sita Didi who meticulously plucks my eyebrows. I believe the man who inhabits the house right across ours likes the sun since he’s always soaking in it on the balcony. I imagine the family who lives behind ours is foreigners because they drive a blue-plated-white SUV. My “thinking” of them exists insofar as I acknowledge their inhabiting the houses on our street. That may be a little too cold and evident of the sad cold cosmopolitans Kathmanduites have become, but I have a life and a job and can hardly keep track of my assignments and deadlines, worrying about theirs is too daunting a task. I’m afraid I’ve failed miserably.
Related story
EU-SAARC Think Tank Summit to be held
