<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114091156/6372031e9c7e80680e0b27efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1166"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Dear Y,You must have heard by now— Aji is no more. They took her to hospital in the middle of the night after she complained of chest pain and she passed away at around 4AM. Yesterday, Aji had been calling up everyone, apparently, and seemed perfectly alright. Her passing was sudden. I hope it was peaceful for her.It has been very hard for Maa. She is always <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/be-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">talking about her childhood</a> with Aji when we are together-- everything she does is punctuated by family anecdotes now. She says she feels like her childhood has been lost forever with Aji’s passing-- she was the last remaining to witness childhoods in Maa’s generation.All the children in the family grew up together. They were in a joint family before they built the new house in the front and the two brothers decided to become separate nuclear families. Before that, everyone lived in the old house, and all the girls slept on one floor and the boys on another. Parents on different floors. Also, I have never understood how the two ajis birthed so many children and still carried on with life.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/of-anger-and-love/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Of anger and love</a>, Pratibha TuladharThey were very close, the two ajis. People always said they were like sisters and not sisters-in-law. They depended on one another for everything. It must have been an alliance of comfort. Two women from two completely different families, united by their marriages, united by the kitchen they shared and the clothes they washed together and the aela they brewed together, no?When we were kids, they used to go shopping together. To New Road and Asan. I think they always started from New Road and the spree ended with a stop at Sweet Valley Indian eatery in Ratna Park. From there, they took a taxi home. As kids, we used to wait for them eagerly because the day they went shopping, we would always get a samosa each and nimkis and a barfee. Now, I think back and I imagine two excited women in their 40s, stopping with their many shopping bags at the Indian eatery to slurp down sweet milky syrups after gobbling down the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hitting-the-sweet-spot-this-tihar/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mithai</a> and digging their fingers into dosas, as they chatted about their expenses.Also, as a child I did not realise ajis were sisters-in-law. I think I was used to thinking of them as two elderly women who always did everything together. They were always buying lots of sarees, too. I have no idea, for what joy! Chirikama Aji also had these hobbies-- she would ask the children to paint her nails or to braid her hair. She liked to nap during the day and wake up to a snack of fruits and then order other people around the house.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/sita/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sita</a>, Pratibha TuladharThey were matriarchs in their own ways, you see? They handled finances and brought up half a dozen children each, like it was a fun thing to do. But the men in that house failed them, I think.I have never really been able to figure out all the property wars they had in that house. I lived there more than I lived with my father’s family, so some memories are so vivid to me. It all began with a wall coming up swiftly in the centre of the courtyard. When the school bus dropped us home one evening, we were told to use the back door to enter, and not the front gate.From being one home, we went to becoming two families. Suddenly, the elders were not talking to one another, relatives had started taking sides. Nothing made sense to me as a kid. Only, that the courtyard where we played marbles and hopscotch was suddenly divided by a wall and none of our games would be the same anymore. Schools were changed. But at that time, I probably grieved the swing-- which was now on the other side of the wall-- the most.As years passed, distances started to fade and people came back together for weddings and funerals. But the awkwardness stayed in some ways. I have often wondered how it might have affected the two ajis who went from being best friends to being confined to two different sides of a wall because their husbands decided not to speak to each other.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/vagina-conversations/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Vagina conversations</a>, Pratibha TuladharAs I watched others bend down turn-wise to touch late Aji’s feet, I wondered about all those fights. I wonder what her thoughts had been on those events. No one talks about these things, you know? We now go about as if nothing ever happened.When I went forward to touch her feet, I noted her nails were painted bright red-- her fingers were so cold. Then I noticed that in the hall, on a table, bouquets had been laid out. Not fancy ones, just wild bunches. They were lying on a pale pink table cloth. I recognised it instantly.The two ajis had made it together. I recall them looking at a catalogue and following every step carefully. They had removed the threads in rows and then sewn them back in to make patterns on the cross-stitch fabric. So delicate, it strained their eyes. I felt like their stories must have converged when doing that kind of work. And it was when I was staring at that table cloth that my eyes welled up.When I go to funerals, I feel like I do not know how to react to the loss. I guess I was mourning the loss of a friendship the two women had shared. Such a big impact the decisions made by the patriarchs had on all our lives. I guess they were only matriarchs in the space that they had created for one another-- such a remarkable gift to give a sister.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/wine-and-women-during-yenya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Wine and women during Yenya</a>, Pratibha TuladharThe two ajis died twelve years apart, but in the same week. Maybe January was their favourite month.Just a long, rambling piece of family history for you. Speak soon.Love,SSuburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

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A letter to a sister

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141148/636d01189c7e80680e0a3610jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2672" height="3563"/><figcaption>Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>Fr K was every girl’s heart-throb. Yes. Heart-throb. We used the word for guys who made our heart beat quicken. Sometimes for girls. So, Fr K Heart-throb.We saw him once a year during the annual retreat. And girls waited all year with bated breath for the ‘retreat’. The retreat was calendared for that time of the year when all the students except one batch went on their holiday. So, it would mostly be a particular batch and Fr K, the only other person on the sprawling campus being Chaukidar Daju.Every day of the three-day retreat, the girls made an effort to look nice. Do your hair a certain way, wear your best blouse, and make sure to get a seat in the first row. Although, Fr K always made sure to reshuffle the seats eventually into a circle, with him standing in the centre.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-direction/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">No direction</a>, Pratibha TuladharLeaning in his very dark navy blue contemporary habit, a hint of white popping out on the collar, he stood there for three full days of the retreat, talking, charming his listeners. What did he really do to work his charm? Not much.But thrown into a classroom of 17-year-old girls, he did not have to do much. His competition were 60-year-old Mr Chaurdhary who taught Economics and Chaukidar Daju, who walked about with betel nut tucked between his teeth.I suppose the only thing different Fr K did was smile. He smiled and laughed softly a lot between talking. And every time he did that, the scar from a sewn-up upper cleft lip showed itself off, adding something striking to his demeanour.There were rumours about Fr K. They said that in his hill-town, women fell for him every time they heard him speak during church. And there were other rumours that made the girls blush. But there he was, standing amidst us, talking about ethics and love for all living beings.Just as the bell rang after lunch break, I shoved my bag into Rosy’s arms saying, “I need to use the loo”. I ran in as I always did and stopped suddenly at the main door of the lavatory.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/vagina-conversations/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Vagina conversations</a>, Pratibha TuladharThe door to the cubicle in the centre was open, partly showing off the dark navy blue attire. Facing away from me was Fr K, relieving himself. When he heard the steps, he tilted his head, looked at me and said, “Oh, hello.” And continued at what he had been doing.I felt like my face was on fire. Why was he in the students’ toilet instead of the GENTS in the staff room building? Had no one briefed him about the toilet rules in an all-girls’ institution? I turned away and left, the startling sound of shower softly hitting the toilet pan ringing in my ears.Back in the classroom, Rosy asked me why I look so flustered. I said it was nothing. I said, I was glad the retreat would be over in a few hours. She looked at me like she couldn’t believe her ears.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/sita/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sita</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar…I make my way to the toilets, a short walk from the hall at the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-and-international-literature-festival/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">literature festival</a> venue. The door to one of the toilets is open. A man stands inside, relieving himself. He is wearing loose clothing. His linen shirt collar is met at the nape by peppery curls. A cotton bag is slung on one shoulder. “Sorry,” he says.When I go back to my seat, I see this man again. He is now seated on the stage alongside other speakers. The moderator introduces him as the writer of a book which is named after a certain exploding fruit. Later, I would try to read the book and never be able to finish it.…“I’m your fan,” I say to the politician, as he walks into the studio, preparing for a live interview. As the studio producers help him with the lapel mic and framing, I make small talk.“I disagree with your thoughts regarding <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Analysis/how-decentralised-is-federalism,776" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">federalism</a>, but I have always been impressed by how clearly you make your argument on why we don’t need it.”“That’s all right, Nanu,” he says. “In a democracy, we’re all allowed to disagree.”The interview is over and it is my turn to go on the air, before which I always use the toilet. I walk towards the row of restrooms. The first one on the floor has its door flung open and our guest’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/from-heads-to-toes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">colourful Dhaka</a> topi stands out in the semi-darkness of the cubicle.“La!”“Eh…” he says.…Past 6PM is always time for your last cup of tea. I ’m standing by the lift, waiting, when he absentmindedly walks past me towards the toilet, muttering a casual hi. Given the short distance between the lift and the toilet, a strong smell would sometimes hover in the lobby.“When are you going to turn your feature in?” he yells at me from the toilet.“Sorry?” I turn my head towards his voice. The door to the Men’s is open.…As always, I hate having to use the toilet at Nepal Tourism Board. In there, I’ve always wondered how one was expected to use a space so small. I tend to get apprehensive even before I enter it.I open the main door and standing before the mirror, is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/sexual-minorities-reeling-under-the-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">them</a>, towering over the basin. They’re doing some last-minute fixing, standing taller than anyone I have met in my life, poised gracefully in a peach silk gown, with floral patterns.“I love your blog post about massage. I’ve often wondered what that kind of pain actually brings,” I say.“Thanks,” they say and continue to get busy by the mirror. It was the first time I was speaking to someone who uses ‘they’ as a pronoun. I carry on into one of the cubicles, where it feels like the walls are about to crush me. I wonder how they might have used a space so tiny. I also think of how we had coexisted for a few minutes in a tight space and how, unlike similar encounters with men, I had not felt threatened.Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Toilet encounters

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdb09c7e80680e0a0bfbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="910" height="607"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>A few months ago, a friend of mine finally left an unhappy marriage after years of struggle. Her husband was emotionally and mentally abusive, but she was expected to be patient and tolerant like a good Nepali wife and daughter-in-law. She also had to put up with his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Cheating,2375" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wandering ways</a>.When she mustered up enough courage to tell her parents about it, they told her he would change if she worked on her marriage. When her in-laws found out about her son, they blamed her, saying she was not a good enough wife.But after years of working on her marriage unsuccessfully, and with support from her parents, she decided it was time to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/%20number-of-nepali-women-filing-for-divorce-rises,1513" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">call it quits</a>. But this decision was met with harsh criticism, people called her an “embarrassment to the family” for leaving her husband.How is her walking away from an unhappy union and an abusive husband a disgrace to our culture, but not <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/cheating-is-a-choice-not-a-mistake,2148" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">his cheating</a>? Why is she being called names, but her husband’s philandering does not even raise an eyebrow?Our society accepts these double standards with closed eyes. Men and boys get away with doing whatever they want, no one bats an eyelash. But if a woman or girl chooses to prioritise her well-being over ill-treatment in her own family, it is everyone’s business, she is labelled immoral and disrespectful of our culture or traditions.When her husband’s cheating and abuse of her was exposed, no one questioned him about disregarding the sanctity of the marriage or his lack of morality. But when she decided to pursue her happiness, she was called out for her lack of respect in ending a relationship after years of trying.How is this ethical or even logical? When men choose to stray, our society stays quiet and looks the other way, but when <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-goal-is-empowerment-and-independence-of-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women</a> try to stand up for themselves, they are met with societal threats and shamed.If it is strength and courage to tolerate injustice and abuse, why does anyone not talk about how wrong it is to cheat and mistreat others?What is more shocking is how some women choose to blame the woman instead of the man in these matters. How can they not feel the pain and suffering of women living in hell, but pretending to be happy?It was not easy for my friend to walk away, she knew her choosing to do so would be met with more obstacles and malicious rumours. So the least we can do if we do not support the women is to not make it harder for them.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/parodying-patriarchy-at-tij/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Tij festival</a> is approaching and soon, women will be fasting for the long lives of their husbands. They are taught to treat their husbands like gods. But this is not how a god would behave. If we give that level of respect to men, they need to live up to it.Men are raised like they can do no wrong, and from a young age are taught that they are better than women. This is not the Middle Ages, and men need to learn to act responsibly. They need to control their egos, and learn that their actions and choices have consequences.Men might have got away with mistakes in the past, but not anymore. The world is changing and women are speaking up.Of course, not all men are like that and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/coping-with-the-patriarchy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">our society</a> knows right from wrong, but the selective discrimination between men and women is hypocritical and shameful in today’s time and world.The foundation of a strong and respectful society is not based on lies or hidden truths. We have to go a long way in terms of equality for all genders, but acknowledging the person at fault for the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/long-distance-marriages-cheating,2408" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">breakdown of a marriage</a> instead of a default setting to blame a woman is a good start.Society must learn to be kind to the women who have suffered. Do not berate them in the name of culture and tradition, but support them. Stand by them when they are standing up for themselves. Encourage them to seek happiness instead of continuing to suffer in an abusive relationship.Every woman who suffers in these loveless marriages is someone's daughter, sister and friend. Everyone deserves to be happy, and it is their life to live.My friend left her husband, and her parents supported her decision. She is a strong woman, she continues to struggle with unkind treatment. But I am proud of her, for her courage. I know it has not been easy on her, but she is happier.Anjana Rajbhandary writes this fortnightly Nepali Times column Life Time about mental health, physical health and socio-cultural issues.

Anjana Rajbhandary

Nepal’s unequal marriages

Now that NASA has its Perseverance SUV and Ingenuity drone on the surface of the Red Planet, we will finally know if men are indeed from Mars. So far, after peering under every nook and cranny with its robotic arm, we have it on good authority that Perseverance has not found any evidence of intelligent masculine lifeforms on Mars, which is another similarity the planet has with Earth.However, the agency may need to shoot off another rocket to also figure out if women are from Venus. We will then finally know if there is true gender parity in the solar system.What has shocked most people about the first panoramic photographs of Mars is how similar the terrain looks to parts of Planet Earth. In fact, selfies of the Mars buggy might as well have been taken at the Chabahil intersection. The good news is that NASA has announced its probe has detected signs of water on Mars, although no traces of it have been discovered in Mangal Bazar as yet.Back here on Planet Earth, we commemorate another Intergalactic Women’s Day on March 8th to celebrate equality between women and men. Having had a head-start, men have had an unfair advantage in enjoying the privilege of being Jack Asses. Women, too, should have the right to behave like Jenny Asses.After all, women in this country have have come a long way: there used to be zero female ministers in the interim cabinet in 1950. Compare that to the Oli Cabinet in which out of 25 ministers, two are women.The question is, if 33% of civil service jobs are going to be given to females, what are some of us broad-minded men going to do? After all, as Chairman Mao himself proclaimed, we men hold up the other half of the sky. What we in the Central Non-Working Committee of the recently formed All-Nepal Federation of Alpha-Males and Drones (Revolutionised) want to know is: if men can be morons where is the harm if women want to be as idiomatic as members of the male species?Should we guys be getting worried that women are overtaking us in the march towards mediocrity? You bet. And what should gentlemen be doing about it? Kicking butt. Yes, men have no recourse but to start behaving in an even more obnoxious and loathsome manner than we already do. Comrade Raghuji Punt, we notice, has already got his balls rolling in this arena.All of us who wear Y-front undies must now reassert our manhood, and protect the bastions of Marxism-Leninism (Male) from feminism.So, let this be a warning: we are not going to sit idly by while women outscore us in 10+2. We will also launch an agitation till jobs traditionally held by women are also reserved for men. Only through affirmative action can men also have a chance to prove themselves to be as good housewives and homemakers.There is still hope: Kathmandu is getting its first male beauty parlour. At last there is a place us boys can go and get our blackheads squeezed by professionals without any danger of zits getting infected and erupting into pus-filled carbuncles and aunties.So, in summary, we can conclude that women the world over have made a lot of progress in trying to be as idiosyncratic as men, but they still have a lot of catching to do. Women can also be from Mars if they try, and with Curiosity, Opportunity, Perseverance and Ingenuity, we know they can do it.

The Ass

Women are from Mars

<img width="538" height="541" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a402b9c7e80680e04a606jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Though the medium is oil on canvas, Mann Gurung employs only sepia tones in his paintings, evoking the era of old photographs. Indeed, his artwork harks back to an older, more innocent time in Nepal. The  women still wear the fariya choli, and the men are in patuki and dhaka topi.Gurung’s second solo exhibition, Lost in Transition, is on at Siddhartha Art Gallery in Baber Mahal Revisited from 9 May - 9 June. Though most of the works are oil paintings, there are also graphite and ink drawings. They differ from his previous solo exhibition Power, Politics and War, which was predictably focused on politics. This time around, the emphasis is on a visual depiction of social change.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali-on-canvas/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Karnali on Canvas</a>, Sewa Bhattarai  <img width="640" height="920" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a402d9c7e80680e04a607jpeg.jpg" alt="">Gurung has captured women who collected milk in wooden theki, and have now turned to plastic Coke bottles. Though they cling to traditional dresses, they cannot help wearing Crocs on their feet. He has captured the dhyangro hand drum, an important instrument in his community that seems torn and neglected, and an old record player that looks like it hasn’t been used in a while.  These portraits are from Khorla, a mountain village in Gurung’s home district of Gorkha. Collectively, the impression is of a bygone era: of a place caught in transition as traditional values are fast being replaced by modern ideas. Gurung’s paintings capture the reality of most of Nepal today. With the youth migrating out, the elderly and women are left to fend for themselves. It is an uphill battle to cling to their traditional lifestyles.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-art-now-in-vienna/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal Art now in Vienna</a> Gurung believes he has captured the last of a generation that carries our identity, as younger Nepalis are ‘already fitted out in denims and pride themselves for embracing western culture’.“They have already made a transition from madal to box speakers, rodhi to mp3 players, hand sewn bags to polythene ones, handmade garments to imported polyester, bamboo baskets to zebra bags, and from sanduk to flatscreen TVs. We will soon lose the older generation, erasing hundreds of years of our identity, tradition and culture,” laments Gurung.His paintings force us to ponder identity, how we can hold on it, and whether it is even possible. The paintings are a testament to a lost time, and present Gurung’s concern for his own heritage, which he seems powerless to conserve. But at least he has preserved and documented a part of his culture in his art. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-craft-of-art/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Craft of Art</a>, Sewa Bhattarai <img width="1052" height="584" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a402f9c7e80680e04a608jpeg.jpg" alt=""> Lost in TransitionSiddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal RevisitedUntil 9 June

Lost in Transition

Speech delivered by the Director General of the Department of Women, Children, Labour, Home Affairs and Animal Husbandry on the occasion of the Day of International Women. (Please check against delivery.)“Madam Chair, Respected Futons, Distinguished Desks, Honorable Sofas, Ladies and, last and also the least, you gentlemen at the back talking loudly in your mobiles who are an utter disgrace to manhood.Now that I have your undivided attention, allow me to begin my lip-service. As far as this Grumblement is concerned, and if it was up to us, we’d declare all 365 days in the year as International Days About Women.I think I speak for a majority of my all-male colleagues here on the dais when I say that we would not be doing justice to members of the female species if we celebrated today only once a year.This is why we propose that henceforth every day be devoted to women except April First, which as a token gesture, has already been set aside by the United Nations as the International Day for Men. Going by your tumultuous applause, I hereby declare that motion passed.There is now a consensus in the scientific community that women hold up only half the sky. In fact, if it wasn’t for us men holding up the other half, the sky as we know it, would fall. We must grudgingly admit that Nepalese women have taken great strides. Admittedly, these strides have not been as great as the strides we menfolk have taken but, hey, we’re not here to gloat.For example, us men have amassed a lot of experience in vitally important activities such as mansplaining, and making hilarious sounds by cupping our palms under our armpits. Allow me to demonstrate.Now, show me one woman who can do that. The fairer sex has a lot of catching up to do to be at par with us of the unfair sex who are governed by the left hemispheres of our brains (unlike women who are governed by the western hemisphere).Men have had a headstart in the race to makes asses of ourselves. Women, therefore, are lagging behind, but given perseverance, commitment and determinism they can be as (if not more) idiosyncratic as us. You will just have to try harder.Ever since cave men chewed mastodon innards with their mouths open, right down to the modern industrial age where men still haven’t learnt to stow toilet seats in an upright position during takeoffs and landings, us boys have been rightly called the stronger sex.Some men may have their egos dented when they see women overtaking them in this march towards mediocrity, but there is nothing to fear. Both sexes now have equal rights to make oxymorons of themselves.After all, GONe is an Equal Opportunity Employer.”

men

A letter to a sister

Toilet encounters

Nepal’s unequal marriages

Women are from Mars

Lost in Transition

Unfair sex