What a fucking joke

My dad has strictly prohibited us from expressing any of our political opinions in public. To that I'd say, don't worry dad, I don't have any. Which is to say, I do not have any feeling for or against any political phenomenon going on in this country. I just find the whole thing so Goddamned funny. This is a wholly personal opinion but my guess is that most people find the political thingies as a joke.

When I studied economics back in college, there was this term which we had to use often: "Everything else remaining the same" So, in other words, holding all else constant, I'd like to share what happened this Banda week long. Everyone knows about the Upatyaka Banda that has been in effect since Sunday. I live in Samakhusi and work in Kalanki, and there has been only one instance of me walking to work during a Banda, that too in winter (and I was on habit of running in mornings then). That was then, this is now. It's summer (technically it's monsoon, but it's hot out so it's more or less summer for me). The Banda as of now is one of a kind: starting at 6 in the morning and ending 4 hours later at 10. I have to get to work from 9:45 to 10:15 (not a compulsion but I don't like to sway from routine).

First day I leave for work at 10 (the scene outside is chaotic, with vehicles running amuck). Second day I leave at 9:30, hoping to walk for a bit and then catching a bus when the Banda lifted. The scene outside. Gongabu chowk : a dozen people are shouting some kind of slogan : "Long live this Long live that" and "Die this and Die that". Hundreds of onlookers and two dozen policemen. Vehicles are lined up on both side of the chowk, waiting for the Banda to be lifted. I turn left towards my destination. As I walk I see many buses turn around, ignoring the strike altogether and calling passengers who'll go to Kalanki and beyond. I get on one and reach my destination at 10. Third day, bolstered by the previous day's instance, I leave for work at 9:10. The scene outside. Gongabu chowk: a dozen people, no slogan, a maadal, and some singing, some dancing. Hundreds of onlookers and two dozen policemen. No vehicle. Hot sun.

I walked till I could. Walking has never been a problem to my lean body. Rather I enjoy walking. But under a hot sun, walking takes a toll of your patience and perseverance. It was okay the first few minutes. People all around me were walking. It seemed like the most natural thing to do. Well, duh, not like we had a line of options to choose from. It started at the feet. Even though I was carrying an umbrella, my feet were disposed and they were starting to feel scorched. Then the heat like an abominable clinger climbed up my legs. Till then it was fine. But in time, it reached my head. And my face was flushed till I could take it no more. 20 minutes under the sun was enough for me to wonder what the hell. 30 minutes more was left for the strike to lift. But a bus I did find on my way and jumped aboard. However to my dismay there was a blockage at Balaju chowk. I couldn't imagine getting off my haven so I waited till 10 with the other waiting passengers.

Now, coming to the point. I do not even know what the Banda is about. Seriously. There is always a Banda in Nepal, and pointless at that. And I wonder what people have ever gained from it. I have never heard of a phenomenal change that was caused due to those Bandas. I don’t know why the working class has to suffer all the time. And the thing about Nepal Banda is that it is never certain. It does happen time and again, but no one knows when or where, or at what time. Or who calls for it, or who benefits from it. But we do certainly know that nothing good has ever come out of it.

There's this book "The White Tiger" by Arvind Adiga. There I found this quote, What a fucking joke. Seriously. What a fucking joke.