Where are all the children playing?

KATHMANDU, Jan 6: Four children stand on their toes outside the ticket counter as two men (supposedly guards) seat themselves at the main entrance. Inside it doesn’t look as fun as it should and a loudspeaker blares out a stupid song playing on one of the FM stations. The two men then check the tickets and let the children inside while two couples in their punked-up school uniforms make their way out. [break] One of the guards then eyes the bottom of the girl who sports spiky hair and smiles to his friend who smiles back. It is a bizarre place to be but this is where the children are playing.






Passing the entrance, the Full House Bingo stall on your left is empty and onwards to your right a row of stalls glare at you in their emptiness. The Roti Ping or Ferris wheel scrapes the skyline and occasionally turns but the sound of the rotation brings no excitement. Here and there amidst the silence in the first few meters from the main entrance are students and young couples scattered in the nook and corners, their backs turned towards the discerning eyes of the children who have just made their way into Kathmandu Fun Park at Bhrikuti Mandap, the only one of its kind in Nepal.



Walking ahead, the depressing look of one of the stalls greets as Sunita Karki, a young girl from Sindhupalchowk who cannot recall her age, awaits customers with a fistful of rings and a face full of sadness. Sunita has been in Kathmandu for the past two years after completing grade eight in her village school. She arrived here with her uncle Bigyan Karki, who is a security guard at the amusement park. With her uncle’s help, she has been working in the stall for the past one year and lives with his family in the staff quarters. “Business is good,” she says as the stalls stretch away tall, dusty and shadowy behind where she is standing, but her face has disenchantment written all over it.






“Sixty to 70 people visit the stall on weekdays and some 300 show up on Saturdays,” she says as Purna Joshi, a 20-year-old from Dolakha who is in the Nepal Army and his 10-year-old cousin Suman Shrestha try to land a ring one of the displayed prizes. Sunita’s stall has bars of soap, cigarettes, beer, ketchup and aerated drinks are the prizes which have to be ringed in accordance with certain rules that Suman describes as ‘tricky’. “Please write about this in the news,” the boy says as they pay Rs. 20 each for six rings. A Suman puts it, anyone who lands a ring around a prize without touching it takes away the prize, something which seems next to impossible.



“I have come to the park for the first time with my cousin and I feel the entrance fee of Rs. 20 for adults and Rs. 10 for children is way too expensive. The fee itself turns away people and the games that the stalls operate are outdated and use old equipments,” says Joshi but his cousin, who studies in grade four at Padmodaya School, doesn’t have any complaint. “I enjoy it here. I love to play the striking car,” he says while Joshi adds, “Many stalls are closed and they removed the giant dragon at the entrance … people who visit just drift around and don’t really try out the games.”






“Our expenses today at the game stalls have already crossed Rs. 1,000. This is overly expensive for these dull games that only fool consumers,” says Junita Karmacharya, who has come with her younger sister Subhasini Amatya and three children, Sabish Amatya, Bishesh and Satyesh Pote. “There’s nowhere else for these children to go or play during their free time and we have been bringing them to the park for the past four years,” adds Karmacharya as 8-year-old Sabish wins a shampoo sachet at one of the stalls. His cousin Bishesh slowly pulls a pack of toothpicks which he had won earlier and they both giggle as Satyesh jumps up and says, “I love it here. I dig the striking car.”



Unaware and innocent, the children appreciate their little excursion but the adults who accompany them have a lot going through their minds. If there’s the overly expensive rates on one hand, then on the other “many stalls are closed and the operating ones don’t have interesting games” Junita Amatya adds. “Furthermore, look at the kind of prizes the children get and the ambience of the place is not good either. Things would have been better if there was a clean garden or a designated area to sit down and chill.”



The parents and guardians are right in their own way but the stall owners have their blues as well. Less and less people visit the park and with winter at its peak, business closes at 5:30 P.M. which probably explains why most of the stalls are empty and the operating ones haven’t upgraded their games or equipments. “Business – there is no business,” says 42-year-old Hari Banjara, who has been operating the Hunting House stall for the past 23 years. An old hand in the park, Banjara has witnessed a range of developments, and says, “There’s no change. Business is in recession and these days the rent is taking a tol. It is so hard that I can’t even hire 7 to 8 employees whereas I had 16 working for me earlier.”






Kathmandu Fun Park is in the worst of times. Rumor and speculation run far and wide and digital entertainment keeps children at home. Right from the visitors, stall owners and staffs to the management committee, everyone seems to be stressed in their own ways. Begging anonymity, a journalist says, “The Park was in its glory days during my childhood but today it is a crime spot. I am not going there anytime soon.” However, Banjara has a different opinion, “The Park witnessed its downfall after the Narayanhity royal massacre. It wasn’t like this before but today it is hard. On weekdays, I have 20 to 50 people visiting my stalls but people do show up on Saturdays when the number peaks to some 400. Just too many rumors about the place but I do accept some of the blame and remain hopeful of the park reviving.”



Further ahead from the Hunting House stall, the park is deserted save for the three ostriches in the amusement park and little cafeterias that even sell cigarettes and alcohol. There’s little movement in and out the snooker parlor and the park is largely deserted. The children’s train is parked on the track and there are no passengers waiting their turn. Even the pond casts a ghastly reflection of the Roti Ping that’s been still the entire afternoon. Says 22-year-old Raman Sharma from Rautahat who is a staffer of the Rajdhani Amusement Private Limited (RAPL) that runs the Columbus, Striking Car, Duck Race, Cross Ping, Motorcycle and the like, “We need a minimum of four people to balance the Roti Ping and also in order to operate it but sometimes we have to send away people.”



RAPL Owner Kavit Chowdhary adds, “There’s nothing really to say about business. Let’s just say what we earn is enough to accommodate the rent and salary of the employees. We earn when we travel to business fairs, festivals and fetes that happen on an annual basis in different parts of the country. Here in the park, it is just like our headquarters. We really don’t have business here.” A 33-year-old entrepreneur from Delhi, Chowdhary’s business has been running in the park for the past eight years. Almost all the highlights of the park like Columbus, Striking Car, Duck Race and Motorcycle that attract children and adults are in his arena.






“People have no idea about this place,” he says, “There’s not enough publicity and the entrance fee is expensive. Maybe only 20 to 30 per cent of people know about the place and again, the low income families who want to come don’t have enough money and high income families who can afford to don’t have the time or are discouraged because of the ambience. Students and couples give us business while time and again the protests in the streets hamper things, but thank god, people have started showing up again. There were a host of concerts and festivals before Dashain earlier this year which attracted people but there’s a lot to change before the park reaches its full glory.”



It is 5:30 P.M. and Raman asks his colleagues to call it a day. He instructs a few people as he moves towards the arena where two 11-year-old sisters Asmita Thapa Magar and Sushmita Thapa Magar ride the Striking Car. “We come here often,” the sisters say with a big shy smile, “but we love to come on Saturdays when there are more people because it is more fun.” Across from where the girls are having the time of their life, three young people send curls of smoke as they blow their cigarettes. In another corner, guard Bigyan does his rounds as three couples in their school uniforms hurry towards the exit.



“Ramailo cha ni yeha. Malai gaddi ekdum maan parcha (It is so much fun here. I love the striking car,” says Asmita as the sisters bid farewell. Inside, it doesn’t look as fun as it should and somebody is wise enough to turn off the blaring loudspeakers as fluorescent lights are switched on. From Raman’s quarters, a strong scent of incense blows towards the streets as Kavit puts on a bhajan (hymns), “Bholay, Bholay…”



Here it is the children play.