<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234e99c7e80680e0c495bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>The past often feels like a foreign country, as British author LP Hartley once famously wrote, because ‘they do things differently there’.There is a ring of truth in these words as one takes a walk around the Hanuman Dhoka Palace complex in Kathmandu. The temples and the statues, their grandiosity now laced with brown dust, age-worn and almost dwarfed by the rising jungle of cement and iron.But 400 years ago, all this must have felt like an entirely different world.While most of the buildings still stand, having survived earthquakes and successive renovations and remodelling, many of the statues have been stolen and are in exile in museums and private collections overseas.The former palace complex has not changed much since the Malla era, but the surroundings have. The valley is so longer the emerald jewel it once was where Tantric gurus transformed into eagles and appeased the gods, when the air mixed the sweet aroma of flowers rustling in the breeze. The king in one of the three city states could walk to the balcony of his palace and check if there was any new construction taking place in a neighbouring kingdom.There seems at once a great chasm between the past and the present, made wider by the dramatically divergent look of the Nepal Mandala today –– one that noted historian and scholar of Himalayan and Nepali art Éric Chazot tries to commute in his novel Le Seigneur de Katmandou.Read :<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/an-archive-of-ones-own/"> An archive of one’s own</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234ec9c7e80680e0c495cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2304" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Published by Éditions el Viso in 2021, this French-language historical fiction is a detailed retelling – and, at times, perhaps even reimagining – of the life and times of Pratap Malla, told in his own voice, almost as though it were from his diary.The narrative weaves together the legends and inscriptions of the Valley in the latter half of the 17th-century to create a portrait of Pratap Malla not just as a king, but also as a poet, a philosopher, a son, a father, and a husband.It is already a daunting task to write a historical novel –– to try and capture a period, its persons and sensibilities often so far removed. As history is rooted in records, it leaves an author little room to indiscriminately invent.Now add into the mix the figure of Pratap Malla, arguably one of the best-known kings of Kathmandu. His historical persona has been embellished and undermined in the last three centuries, owing to folklore, propaganda and scant contemporary records.Historian Lila Bhakta Munankarmi in his book मल्लकालीन नेपाल describes Pratap Malla as being ‘glorious and brave’ and ‘an intellectual and a poet’, who ‘established numerous temples, shrines and chaitya in Kathmandu, many of whom are still standing.’He was a king who built the Rani Pokhari for his queen who was grieving the death of their son, and allegedly kept a harem of 3,000 young girls, even ravishing one 11-year-old and causing her death.This already ambivalent portraiture is coloured further by the Pratap Malla’s cultural and religious legacies, many of which are still standing in Kathmandu: the statue of Hanuman outside the Hanuman Dhoka Palace, Chyasin Dega, the Bhandarkhal pond, Anantapur and Pratappur spires in the Swayambhu complex, Guheshwari temple, Bhimsensthan, and the many chok inside his palace.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/losing-loose-change-in-nepal/">Losing loose change in Nepal</a>, Ashish Dhakal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234ef9c7e80680e0c495djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4320" height="6480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Chazot’s novel is in some ways a representation of this multiplicity of character. It is reminiscent of the cubist paintings – for instance Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase (No. 2) – and makes no attempt to justify actions or pass judgment –– as Chazot himself admits, that is not what he is trying to do with Le Seigneur de Katmandou.It was in fact to understand him, to explore his philosophy and his character. Chazot is a scholar of masks and art of the Himalaya, with a special interest in Tantrism. In 2015, his translation of the Tantra of Chandamaharosana into French at the behest of a Newa guru Dharma Guruji was published, and in 2016 he came out with another book on the Tantric art of Nepal, Tantra: Théologie de l'amour et de la liberté, which goes into the details of its philosophy and aesthetics.Pratap Malla was already a fascinating subject for Chazot who first arrived in Nepal in 1973. A contemporary of Shah Jahan in Mughal India and Louis XIV in Bourbon France, he too showed fierce love for the arts and philosophy, sometimes with a dash of decadence.  Chazot finished the first draft of what would be Le Seigneur de Katmandou in 1979, but it was 600 pages long, he recalls, “and very complicated”.So, he began to rewrite. “I wasn’t writing every day,” he says. “Sometimes I would write a few pages, take a break for a couple years, and then return to it.” The published version is the fourth draft of the work.He had previously planned a series of novels focusing on one figure from each dynasty of rulers of Nepal, the Malla, the Shah and the Rana, but decided to abandon that for the time being to focus on the story of Pratap Malla.“I really wanted to write a good novel,” he says. “It could not be a little book you read once, enjoy and then forget about it. It had to be concrete and well-written with historical facts integrated with the legends of Pratap Malla so that people find it believable.”Chazot could not remove the legends, such as Pratap Malla entering the mythical caverns of Shantipur temple in Swayambhu during a drought to recover a paubha drawn in the Naga’s blood to bring back rain. Or the story of how Jamana Gubhaju once turned himself into an eagle and carried away the heart of a young boy one foreign sorcerer had cut up and promised to bring back to life through Tantra.“I could not say that because I am a historian, none of that could have happened,” he adds. Instead, Chazot built the book as a first-person narration by Pratap Malla, giving us a direct look into the mind and impressions of the king.Sometimes the king himself appears to be an unreliable narrator, which then prompts us to try and sift, and wonder if separating facts and fiction truly matters after all, because would Pratap Malla be the character he is without the legends and stories?A devout and ambitious king, it had been his great wish to unite the three kingdoms of Nepal Mandala fractured by King Jayayakshya Malla some 200 years before, for which he was constantly at war with Yala (Patan) and Khwopa (Bhaktapur).But it was also during this time that Yen (Kantipur, or Kathmandu) saw unprecedented economic growth, fuelled largely by a treaty with Tibet which allowed the Newa merchants of the city a virtual monopoly over trade with India and Tibet.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The history of heritage</a>, Ashish Dhakal<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/losing-loose-change-in-nepal/">Losing loose change in Nepal</a>, Ashish Dhakal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234f59c7e80680e0c495ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4082" height="4713"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234f99c7e80680e0c495fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="960"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Tibet was also to make a token payment in gold and silver annually to Kathmandu, and Nepal would mint coins for Tibet, allowing the King to profit vastly from these transactions and invest in the arts and culture.“He was an important king of Nepal and there are many inscriptions in his name,” says Chazot. “He was also a tantric king and pretended to know 15 languages. I was always fascinated by him.”The famous stone inscription outside the Hanuman Dhoka Palace to the goddess Kalika is written in 15 languages, including Farsi, Maithili, Hindi, Tibetan, Nepal Bhasa, Arabic, with a surprise appearance by three European words for the seasons: AVTOMNE, WINTER and LHIVERT –– the last one a lasting spelling error, maybe made by a distracted sculptor or scribe.Perhaps the Jesuit fathers Albert d'Orville and Johann Grüber taught the king the words, but the inscription remains undeciphered. In a funny scene with this clever linguistic invention, Chazot describes Pratap Malla remarking: ‘je m’amusais profondément de voir leur embarras lorsque je les interrogeais sur la signification de mon poème!’ (I found it deeply amusing to see their embarrassment when I asked them about the meaning of my poem).Chazot explains: “He called himself Kavindra – the King of poets. For me, this was an interesting idea because he was already a king, but he placed poetry above the kingdom of worldly affairs, and he wanted to be king of that too.”It is said that whosoever can read all 15 languages on that tablet will be blessed with milk miraculously flowing out of a duct at the bottom of the stone inscription. It may have flowed only once.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-historic-kathmandu-beneath-our-feet/">The historic Kathmandu beneath our feet</a>, Sahina Shrestha<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234fb9c7e80680e0c4960jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But Chazot takes care to not confound us with Pratap Malla’s grandeur, for that would only give half-a-portrait. One side of the coin shows the king as an accomplished philosopher with care for his subjects and royal dreams. He wants to learn everything and bring lasting prosperity to his kingdom.On the obverse is an often impatient, lascivious man, a soul that is equally hungry for power as it is for knowledge, a man who may or may not have conspired to have a popular kaji murdered who also happened to be a brother-in-law. And a man who, to repent for killing a prepubescent girl, performs tuladan – the practice of offering Brahmins gold and silver equal to one’s weight.The reader may be tempted to suspect the validity of his claims and contrition, and the book invites one to question the act of writing itself, of telling stories. Where may we draw the line? What is honest and dishonest? The answer, readers must themselves decide.“In building the character and trying to understand,” Chazot adds, “I also want to caution the reader because it is not an objective retelling.” The novel is not just the story of the past, it is a picture of a man who also wants to be a hero. And Pratap Malla himself narrates his story.As the author, however, Chazot has tried to keep the story simple, subtle and coherent, often using juxtaposition to show the contrasting or coalescing viewpoints of cultures, countries and cults.“Brick by brick I put the story together,” he says, taking trips to the Hanuman Dhoka Palace, the temples, poring over the inscription, caressing the curves and the carvings to try and get a sense of what the king himself might have felt walking through his city almost 400 years ago.For written sources, he turned to the works by DR Regmi, Sylvain Lévi, A.W. Macdonald and Anne Vergati Stahl. He hopes Le Seigneur de Katmandou will be an addition to the œuvre that introduces Nepal, its history and culture to the world. An English translation is currently being undertaken by Vajra Publication.“Pratap Malla wanted to be a myth,” Chazot says, “and I have tried to make that come true.”Le Seigneur de KatmandouÉric ChazotPublisher: Éditions el Viso (2021)Pages: 256<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131128/637234ff9c7e80680e0c4961jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="157" height="242">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/losing-loose-change-in-nepal/">A tale of three cities</a>, Ashish Dhakal

Ashish Dhakal

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No time like the past

<figure><img width="853" height="552" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d185a9c7e80680e0ac7bfjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>From right to left: BP Koirala, his nephew Naresh Koirala, wife Sushila and sister Bunu on the balcony of Naresh’s apartment in Hong Kong in 1980. All photos, courtesy: NARESH KOIRALA</figcaption></figure>20 July 1982. Naresh Koirala vividly remembers the humid afternoon in Hong Kong when the telephone rang. His wife said it was Girija Prasad Koirala (affectionately called Sanobabu in the family).It was four days since <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6932#.YWe-sC2B2fQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">BP Koirala</a> had been flown to Bangkok for treatment, and Naresh Koirala, BP’s nephew and a geotechnicial engineer based in Hong Kong at the time, was preparing to fly to Bangkok.Girija Koirala’s voice on the phone was sombre: “You don’t have to come now. We are taking Sandaju (BP) back to Nepal as the doctor suggested. There is no hope now.”There was silence on the line, there was not much to say. Naresh Koirala put the receiver down and with a heavy heart walked quietly to the balcony on the 14th floor of his flat overlooking the South China Sea. The ocean shimmered in the afternoon sun.  Two years before, BP and Naresh had met on that same balcony, talking about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/inside-story-of-nepals-rana-dynasty/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s democratic future</a>. BP was returning to Nepal from a conference in Japan and was making a weeklong stopover in Hong Kong. BP’s wife, Sushila, and his sister Bunu were also with him.Naresh remembers that this was after the May 1980 referendum in which the people were asked to choose between continuing with a reformed party-less Panchayat system, or a multi-party system. BP had supported multi-party, but despite the growing pro-democracy movement in the country, his side lost by about 400,000 votes.  It was widely believed that the Panchayat system won because the referendum was rigged. But BP decided to accept the result in spite of the heavy pressure from his own party colleagues like Ganesh Man Singh to reject the outcome.   <figure><img width="200" height="200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d185d9c7e80680e0ac7c0jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Naresh Koirala</figcaption></figure>Naresh Koirala asked BP about this, who explained his reasoning: once you take part in a voting exercise, it is your responsibility to accept the results, whether you win or lose. The days and weeks following the result of the referendum were the most disheartening for BP. Yet, he did not abandon hope nor the struggle to restore democracy in Nepal. He had faith in the Nepali people and their desire for freedom.Naresh Koirala had become a de facto spokesperson for Hong Kong-based media covering the referendum and remembers an Australian friend telling him: “You had a choice of continuing to live in chains or freedom, you chose chains.”Naresh himself had been puzzled by his uncle’s decision to accept the result. On that balcony that day, he broached the touchy subject: perhaps Nepal was not yet ready for a western parliamentary style democracy – maybe only the literate and those with college degrees should be allowed to vote, he asked.BP had a sharp and quick response: “That is exactly how tyrants think. That the common citizen knows nothing while the dictator himself, being all-knowing, holds all authority over the people’s choices and rights. That is exactly the type of thinking that gave rise to Hitlers and Stalins.”https://youtu.be/p2WA1bGOcPcBP Koirala listed three reasons why he accepted the referendum result: first, he could not say without a doubt that even his own multiparty supporters had not cheated. Second, he believed complaints about irregularities should have been raised before the result was announced, not after his side lost. (“What if we had won, how would we have considered the irregularities then?”)  The third reason was that he feared rejecting the referendum verdict could have precipitated a civil war. “I would not be able to live with such a heavy burden,” he told Naresh.Always thinking about the future consequences of his actions and not just the immediate present, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">BP Koirala’s politics</a> was heavily guided by his moral ethics and humanist philosophy. That is why to this day, as his Nepali Congress party under the leadership of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/deuba-5/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a> is questioned about its adherence to democratic ideals, BP Koirala’s name is often invoked. BP’s own son, Shashank, is in the race for party leadership in the upcoming general convention. <figure><figcaption>BP Koirala (with stick) and other Nepali Congress leaders Girija Koirala, Krishna Prasad Bhattarai and Ganesh Man Singh at Kathmandu airport before he left for cancer treatment in 1982.</figcaption></figure>That evening in Hong Kong, Naresh Koirala also asked BP if he had any resentment or a sense of revenge against kings Mahendra and Birendra for the years of persecution and torment. His reply was: “Such feelings take one nowhere near one’s goal, I am certain the kings themselves judge and evaluate their own actions.”BP Koirala’s dramatic political career spanned the end of the 104-year-old Rana regime in 1950 and the restoration of democracy in 1959. He was the first democratically elected prime minister of the country, and held the office for 18 months before being deposed and imprisoned by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/putsch-ek/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">King Mahendra in the coup of 15 December 1960</a>. He spent the rest of his life either in prison or exile, and in steadily deteriorating health. <figure><img width="800" height="1084" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18619c7e80680e0ac7c2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>BP Koirala at Ocean Park in 1980, when he was already unwell.</figcaption></figure>Even then, he used to say that he endured physical, emotional, and familial troubles because of the love and support of the Nepali people, friends, and family. The hurdles that punctuated his life all came with the job description of politics. In fact, he always said that he was more worried about Sushila, and how to give his wife the life she deserved. Naresh Koirala recalls that during his Hong Kong stopover in 1982, BP, Sushila and Bunu were returning to their car at Ocean Park after sight-seeing, when BP was slightly separated from the group.  Naresh looked back and took a picture of BP lost in thought, hands akimbo. Bunu whispered to Naresh that BP was not well, and he went back to where he was standing. BP waved his hand as if to say not to worry: “It is all right, I will join you.”Naresh Koirala has kept a letter BP wrote to him dated 14 December 1981, asking him not to be despondent. He writes: ‘I have undergone all kinds of hardship and deprivation. I have no sense of suffering.’ He was at the time undergoing chemotherapy in Nepal for throat cancer and had returned from Bombay’s Tata Hospital. Weakened by the disease and chemotherapy, his days were spent in the company of visitors and well-wishers with whom he engaged in lively conversations. He continues in the letter: ‘Do not be despondent, I have lived a full life – very exciting, adventurous and, in my term, a missionary life … The greatest satisfaction in life is the constant awareness that you are constantly being used up by your own mission – I have that satisfaction.’He said his only regret was that he wished that he had spent more time with his children, especially his daughter, Chetana. <img width="621" height="834" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18649c7e80680e0ac7c3jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="619" height="831" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18669c7e80680e0ac7c4jpeg.jpg" alt="">BP Koirala’s handwritten letter in English to Naresh Koirala from his hospital bed while undergoing chemotherapy in 1982.That evening in Hong Kong a year earlier, BP confided to Naresh: “If anyone can say when confronting death that they have no regrets and resentment, and that they were dedicated to their work, that is a content and satisfied life.”In July 1982, when Naresh came to Kathmandu, BP was already severely worn out by cancer. BP dedicated his life to uplifting the living standard of Nepalis through genuine democracy, but he feared that he would not live to see his life’s work completed. It is worth pondering what he would have thought of Nepal today, nearly 40 years after his death.In the last four decades, the country saw a People’s Movement that turned the country into a constitutional monarchy, a decade-long war, a massacre of the royal family, an unstable transition to federalism, a secular republican constitution, and the current Nepali Congress-led coalition with the Maoists.The cancer spread, and family members decided to take him abroad for treatment. On the morning of the day of departure, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4714%22 %5Cl %22.YWVIWC8RppQ%22 %5Ct %22_blank" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ganesh Raj Sharma</a> came to BP’s residence at Chabahil with a tape to record his autobiography, as he had been doing for two months.  The interview is yet to be published, Nepali edition of his <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5205%22 %5Cl %22.YWVFLC8RppQ%22 %5Ct %22_blank" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Atmabrittanta memoir</a> only include photos taken at the time. At one point in the tape, Sharma asks BP, “How do you want the Nepali people to remember you?”  Lying on his bed, surrounded by his niece, Sailaja, and his daughter-in-law, Nona, BP looked tired. Naresh Koirala was taking photographs and remembers thinking that BP must have been weary with the thoughts of the impending travel. <figure><img width="464" height="418" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18689c7e80680e0ac7c5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A bed-ridden BP Koirala gives his last interview to Ganesh Raj Sharma at his home in Chabahil with niece Shailaja Acharya and sister-in-law Nona Koirala.</figcaption></figure>BP replied in his rasping voice into a small microphone: “I do not think I have done anything great or worth remembering, but if people wish to remember me, I hope they think of me as a decent human being who tried to honestly, sincerely and wholeheartedly to work for the welfare of the people and the nation.”Adapted by Ashish Dhakal from Naresh Koirala's बीपीका आखिरी दिनहरू published in <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/category/samaj%22 %5Ct %22_blank" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Himal monthly magazine</a>. Watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2WA1bGOcPc&amp;t=21s%22 %5Ct %22_blank" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">video of Naresh Koirala</a> remembering BP Koirala.For BP’s diary from Sundarijal Jail: read series in Nepali Times, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nepali-times-search/?q=back+at+sundarijal" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Back at Sundarijal</a>.

Last Days with BP Koirala

<figure><img width="1280" height="897" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be62b9c7e80680e08778ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: Kathasatha</figcaption></figure>A lot happened in 1999. I turned 18, finished high school and got accepted by an American college. And the internet, which had crept into the Nepali marketplace, finally made it to my bedroom. The arrival of the Internet coincided with a key moment in my life – my coming to terms with my sexuality. So begins Niranjan Kunwar’s memoir Between Queens and the Cities.Over the next 300 or so pages divided into six parts, Kunwar takes us on a journey that spans two decades, from the neighbourhoods in New York to the gallis and bhattis of Kathmandu. Between Queens and the Cities is a beautifully crafted coming of age story of a gay man in Nepal navigating life while exploring his identity and finding a place to call home.The book begins when Kunwar is 19 in New York. Freed from the constraints of Nepal, he enjoys the independence America has to offer. He promptly falls in love with New York, making plans to return to the city once he graduates, and he does. He works as a teacher, first at a private school in the city and then in a school in Brooklyn. He finds his friends and falls into a routine. But then life creeps in, the commutes are too long, the mornings too early. Paper works for green card falls through and over time he returns to Nepal to pursue a literary journey.All these are punctuated by fear and anxiety he has regarding his sexuality, the relationship with his parents, and the need for love and acceptance. <figure><img width="800" height="533" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be62e9c7e80680e08778fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is difficult to capture universality in a way that also celebrates uniqueness, but Kunwar does that skillfully. By choosing the themes that he did, Kunwar has made his story matter not just to him but to the readers as well.As anyone who has called NYC their home at any point in life can attest, the city does that to you: it makes you fall in love with it. Only in New York will you pay the deposit for an apartment with half-clogged bathroom and return happy and content.Living in a foreign country can also be lonely, and the paperwork frustrating. As an immigrant, there is a sense of not belonging, the conscious sense of otherness even with the closest of native friends.But anyone who returned to Nepal after spending time away from home can also relate to the feeling of being robbed of freedom once back, the confusion and the self-doubt of whether they have made the right decision, as well as the uphill task of rebuilding their lives and relationships with friends and family, and finding or starting over a career.https://youtu.be/kw4w9rkHkoM?fbclid=IwAR1OVzLHcyqVuuNocKJj3UshxsaAZocO7I9X0pyTTTX7v7I9A6_h59zEbKMWhen it comes to the stories of LGBTIQ individuals, it is easy to fall into the trap of a dominant narrative. Through repetition and often limitation of the stories we hear we create a stereotype of the community that does not justify the broader identity. Kunwar while admitting his privilege attempts to reveal the community’s wide diversity, through his own story and those of others.In the final part of the memoir Kunwar tells the stories of Rukhsana, Bhakti and Sadhana, Aditya, Esan, and Sudip and Apekshya. Their stories each unique in their experiences but tied by the thread of highlighting parts of a marginalised population that too often remain invisible and ignored.Kunwar sweeps his life beautifully into words. Reading the book is like listening to a friend narrate his life story. He does not spend too much time in details and is eloquent and earnest in his storytelling. Between Queens and the Cities, is a great addition to the (finally) emerging literary works from the community.Sahina Shrestha is Digital Products Strategist at Nepali Times, and did her Masters at New York University.Between Queens and the CitiesPages: 305Publisher: <a href="https://fineprint.com.np">FinePrint</a>Launch: 5 December 2020More about the launch <a href="https://www.kathasatha.org.np/events/book-launch-between-queens-and-the-cities" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">here.</a><a href="_wp_link_placeholder"> </a> <img width="1280" height="897" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6319c7e80680e087790jpeg.jpg" alt="">Excerpts:“What about the bathroom?” I asked the broker. The paint on the wall was chipped; the bathtub was half-filled with water. “No need to worry,” he assured us. “They are still working on it. It will be complete by the first week of June.”The work in the bathroom never got completed. The memory of my first year in New York is tainted by the perpetually half-clogged bathtub. Aliza and I had to plan our showers; one waited for almost an hour for the tub to drain completely after the other one had used it. We made numerous phone calls to the management of the building, took turns waiting for the plumber to show up.**Anyone who leaves one’s homeland owes some kind of return. This is what I believe. I believe that circular is natural and linear is artificial. A back and forth process leads to growth and adventure while a one-way mindset can be limiting.I keep thinking of that moment in New York when I decided to return. It was late afternoon in March, dusk was approaching fast. After wrapping up the day’s work, I called my lawyer to inquire about my green card. I remember the brusque tone of her voice – Had I not read the emails she had sent- and her message, “Sorry.”At that moment, I remember, for the first time, a flicker of courage, a small guiding voice inside me. I sat down after clicking the phone shut. And I remember deciding. That moment, that room, on that day, I remember deciding that it was time to return. **There’s routine, there’s regularity, then there’s reporting. I try to capture raw emotions before they mature and mutate. Certain dialogues demand urgent documentation. Sometimes, I pay more attention to these tasks than refining aspects of my craft.A modest readership emerges. That is another reason why I write. Because I remember how growing up gay in Kathmandu felt like. When I was younger, there were no stories about Nepali men who liked men. And we know how stories can inform and teach, can show us the way.

memoir

No time like the past

Last Days with BP Koirala

Between Queens and Kathmandu