Having begun only in early 1960s the “Nepal Transport Service” buses that plied between Ranipokhari and Patan Dhoka/Lagankhel marked the beginning of formal bus service. Entry of Sajha Yatayat, a cooperative-run venture, saw a marked improvement in services and reach. It is good to learn that Sajha is reportedly in a resurrection phase. But the overall public transport system, left to the whims of private operators, continues to be patchy and disjointed. They would not, on their own, go beyond the city confines that guarantee a high level of occupancy and returns. We should not be ashamed of our ignorance that even buses, like airline flights, can have schedules! It is also not deemed necessary that such buses be painted in one colour for easy identification.
This is Kathmandu, and we do not follow rules.
As obtaining vehicle loans has never been easier, things are different now, to the extent we would rather not walk, not even to the shop round the corner. Walking is now considered as lowly. We do, however, waste valuable hours in fuel queues, grateful in the end with a few litres of petrol which smells like Kerosene. But at times, when your stars are aligned, your 12-liter tank can even accommodate 15 litres.
With assorted vehicles choking the roads, everyone has one complaint or the other. Drivers in four-wheelers curse unruly cowboys and hip girls on two wheelers for whom driving by the rule is passé. They might as well go without helmets! Two-wheeler wallahs, in general, are so damn irresponsible and impatient that they have no qualms squeezing past a car, in a tightest corner possible, without as much as a glance. If the supposedly educated and civilized can be so callous what can we expect of rookie drivers?
No wonder micro buses and tempos contribute to the road chaos, in their own ways, by stopping anywhere of their choosing, unconcerned with the vehicles in the rear. It goes without saying that they, in all probability, might have secured the licence to drive through agents thronging the corridors of Yatayat Aabybastha Bivag; like bulldozing through the so-called SLC Iron Gate by cheating in exams, and yet managing to come out with first division.
On most streets, over loaded safa-tempos move at their own slow pace without any space for the vehicles behind to move ahead. Elsewhere, with one foot poised over accelerator pedal, those waiting at traffic lights will literally have steam blowing out of their ears, as the pressure builds up, as the nonstop pedestrian chain keeps moving even after the lights have turned green. To be fair to the pedestrians, few donor-installed traffic lights seem to be in working condition. Moreover, traffic management here are geared exclusively towards managing vehicles than pedestrians.
Like I said, pedestrians, who openly flout road rules, have to share some blame. Given that there are innumerable inadequacies in our dilapidated system, the least that can be expected from pedestrians is that they bring to use the costly over-head bridges when available. The pedestrians’ tendency not to bother with them also results from the weakness of local authorities. This is the reason the overhead crossings are littered with petty vendors (as are our sidewalks). It remains to be seen how effective newly imposed penalties for jaywalkers will be.
The list of authorised and unauthorised occupation is long and varied. All three Tundikhels can be treated as occupied space, so can be Ranipokhari-Ratnapark and even the Dashrath stadium. If we look back over the years, we will invariably find that the spaces in the Valley which were once in public domain have now mysteriously gone into private hands. For example, an open field that was known as naya chauur (measuring 10,500 m2) west of St. Xavier’s School, has long been walled up by adjoining girl’s school. Even if the land was granted as Bakashish, it would still be unauthorised.
Open spaces in Kathmandu are being gobbled up in the manner termites chew through your wooden rafters and beams, unseen and unheard. Kathmandu, it seems, will learn about the importance of open spaces only after the “big one” strikes with a vengeance. Until then, we can afford to take it easy. Ideally the proportion of open green space should increase with the rise in population but that rule does not seem applicable here. The people of Kathmandu are seen to be enacting Kalidas so far as disregarding every norm and value of urban living is concerned.
The army’s attempt to wrest the traditional road linking Bhadrakali with Maitighar junction from the public domain can be seen as yet another such attempt. Such appropriation might have been okay for the few years of the conflict, but the security argument does not hold water any more—the erstwhile rebels, for god’s sake, have twice led the government. There is an unwritten rule worldwide which says “once a highway, always a highway”. The term encompasses any public thoroughfare. And one cannot do away with a highway just like that even if an alternative is offered as a “lollypop” bought with public money.
For those who are upset over not getting to read about instant solutions in writing, I have only one thing to say: the facilities and rules are for common good and therefore, need to be used in the manner prescribed. Any inadequacies or deficiencies therein can be case for improvement in the future.
I would like to end with unsolicited words of wisdom from a taxi driver the other day as I waited patiently for my turn to get out of a junction jam. Pulling besides me he said “Parkhera hudaaina hazur, yaha ta pelnu parcha” (“It is no good waiting, sir; you have to bulldoze through here!”) That is the precise attitude, all around us, that we have to rid of if we want to improve public life in Kathmandu.
harjyal@yahoo.com
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