The state should remain awake 24/7

Devendra Gautam

 Scene 1

At the Tankeshwar Bridge, Teku, in the sunny afternoon of March 22, 2026, a labourer clad in tatters—an ancient-looking waistcoat, a shirt not much different, a proud Nepali cap and pants—is fast asleep, resting his body on a support pillar of the bridge, holding namlo (a forehead band used for carrying loads) in his hand as vehicles of all sorts pass closely by, almost touching his feet. An accidental slip and the man would have a very slim chance of surviving the traffic that would, most probably, have no patience even for Yamraj, the death god, if he were to land in this sacred land from his necropolis by handing over his duties to his deputy, Chitragupta, for an hour or so.  

 

Just metres away, one of the most visible signs of the Nepali state is having a hard time ensuring a smooth movement on the road. The lone police officer whistles, gestures with his hands, shouts when necessary and literally wades through the choc-a-bloc section to ensure a smooth movement of vehicles, pedestrians and occasional stray animals. 

 

Scene 2

At a government bank in Balaju, while waiting for his turn and killing time, this service-seeker has a  brief conversation with a teller about the bank’s interest rates. The rate, even for fixed deposits with the maturity period of six months, is far from attractive (not even three percent), giving a clear enough indication vis-a-vis the state of the economy. 

 

Talking about a national economy that runs mostly on dirty fuels is an exercise in futility. Thanks to the unrest in the Gulf, the price of petrol has climbed by Rs 15 per litre to Rs 172 and that of diesel/kerosene has climbed by Rs 10/litre, reaching Rs 152, with effect from the midnight of March 15. 

Still, it’s a double delight to read and watch the interview of an ever-smiling czar of the Nepal Oil Corporation (NOC), who never gets tired of assuring the public that there will be no shortage of oil and cooking gas in the country with a “great hydropower potential”, provided the period of unrest in West Asia ends soon. 

By the way, who were the policy-making geniuses among us, who never thought of privatising a public utility that makes profit by selling a commodity whose prices are almost always on an upward swing, in the era of privatisation and liberalisation? Why has it been so hard for our exceptionally capable policy-makers to wean Nepali consumers off this petroleum addiction, even when it has become stark clear that petroleum imports are the largest contributor to our ever-yawning trade deficit, accounting for approximately 17 percent of total imports and representing over 19 percent of the total trade deficit in recent months? What’s more, having built South Asia’s first cross border petroleum pipeline (Motihari-Amlekhgunj), the NOC is working with a missionary zeal to extend the pipeline all the way to Kathmandu from Lothar (Chitwan) by defying gravity (of course in coordination with the monopoly supplier, the Indian Oil Corporation), build another cross-border pipeline (Siliguri-Charali) and shoring up storage capacity (In his writings, this scribbler has described them as albatrosses around Nepal’s neck, for a reason). Call it the Nepali ingenuity: At the same time, our officialdom is working on a war footing with counterparts from across the southern border for developing export-oriented green energy projects with minimal to zero national investment and ‘earning big’ by exporting the energy while footing massive environmental costs.

Should not the rulers of an ancient country like ours have a sense of the future?

 

Scene 3

 

About a fortnight ago in a neighbourhood not that far away from Kathmandu, there was a quarrel in a house. Sloshed, the hubby verbally abused his spouse; he did not spare their son either. The tirade must have gone on for 15 minutes or so.  

 

Granted, it’s the duty of family members, tenants and other community members to report such incidents. Most probably, the incident went unreported. By the way, where were our eyes and ears when one needed them the most?  

And what does the incident in question point at? In all likelihood, it shows public perception that help won’t come to the helpless even if one were to report such incidents.

 

Scene 4

At an exotic location in the Himalayas, a very popular foreigner is roaming around all alone. On a social media post, he is heard seeking permission from his Nepali ‘Ama’ to dive into an exotic lake. The conversation suggests that no one has tried that feat before.   

Guests are gods and modern gods love adventures. In this day and age, though, should not some relevant government officials accompany such deities or watch their activities? After all, the state too should prove its relevance and fleecing the taxpayer is not the only way to do it, right?  

 

Scene 5

According to media reports, our continent-sized, superpowerful neighbours have decided, once again, to add insult to our injury by agreeing to resume the cross-border trade via Lipulek, which forms part of a 400 square kilometre parcel that Nepal has been claiming as her own, for decades. This scribbler has not heard the Nepali officialdom speak about this infraction. 

 

The scenes from Tankeshwar to the amiable NOC czar to Lipulek point toward a state in deep slumber most of the time. And I fervently hope that the state wakes up and remains awake 24/7 if it does not want to jeopardise its contract with its subjects.

PS: Images generated with the help of AI