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Most Nepalis will greet the country’s biggest festival that kicks off on Saturday, October 17, with a strange feeling. We have largely been holed up in our homes for well over eight months—and there is no respite in sight. True, the lockdown has been lifted. But that does not mean much when you are constantly reminded of the potentially deadly enemy by the ubiquitous masks and sanitizer bottles wherever you go. The whole family effectively quarantined for months, it’s also no holiday-time.  

If this was the end of the pandemic, perhaps half of us would immediately leave the country. People are dying for novelty of a foreign place and culture after the stultifying conformity they have had to endure for most of 2020. (Oh, what a dastardly year.) Those who can’t afford foreign holidays would leave for Nepal’s favored labor destinations to kick-start their migrant-worker careers. But, as things are, most of us won’t be venturing anywhere far.

Whether or not you mark it as a religious festival, Dashain has always been tantamount to fun. Visiting your ancestral home, eating and drinking, playing cards, bonding with loved ones—it’s the time you forget individual woes and take part in collective celebration. This year, things are different. Many have abandoned all celebration plans. Others are not venturing beyond their homes. Some say they will put ‘e-tika’.

And where’s the money to buy new clothes and appliances? Forget Dashain bonus, most working Nepalis are getting only a fraction of their salary, if at all. Hundreds of thousands have been laid off. Indeed, what is there to celebrate? And how can you celebrate when your friends and relatives are constantly falling sick and even dying from the pandemic?

But we human beings are strange. For the next fortnight, many of us will try to forget we are in the middle of a raging pandemic. We will pretend Durga Mata will look after our health and wellbeing. And we will eat and drink like there is no tomorrow, if only to drown our sorrow. APEX has absolutely no problem with your personal celebration. Just make sure your actions don’t harm others. Stay home. Stay safe. Wait for a better tomorrow. It will come.  

Confusion reigns supreme as people debate whether to celebrate the upcoming Dashain amid a raging corona pandemic. The number of daily reported cases is steadily climbing, with a record 4,364 cases reported on Oct 8. It’s hard to find a person whose close friend or relative has not been infected, suggesting widespread prevalence of Covid-19, over and beyond official numbers. Hospital ICUs are chock-a-block with covid-positive patients, and they are urging all but critical patients to self-isolate. The biggest Hindu festival just over a week away, people are looking forward to it with foreboding. Putting tika while clad in a mask and at a safe distance from your nearest ones isn’t exactly the Dashain spirit. 

Many are already resigned to their fate, as they think it is only a matter of time before they too have the virus—if they don’t already. They thus shun masks and mingle freely. Youths are particularly blasé. The problem is that we know little about the virus nearly a year since its first appearance in China. What little findings there have been in fact suggest long-term health effects even among the youth. This follows an old pattern. During the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic too, the first wave was relatively mild and mostly affected the infirm and elderly. But soon the virus had morphed and came to hit the youth the hardest. There is a risk of a new and more deadly spurt of the virus this winter. 

Thankfully, testing has increased, with nearly 20,000 people now being tested daily—one reason for the higher number of infections. Yet even this is inadequate. If the country is to have any hope of controlling the spread of the virus and preventing its worst consequences, around 100,000 will have to be tested (or retested) every day. Another good news is that self-testing is increasing and those who have discovered on their own are isolating in their homes. Doctors are available for consultations over the phone. Folks are also deriving some comfort by sharing their stories on social media. It’s becoming clear that Nepal will have to work out its own formula to deal with this scourge. But will that be enough? 

Flippant comparisons are often made between Nepali Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli and American President Donald Trump. Both define nationalism narrowly, it is alleged, by excluding minorities. Both are loud-mouthed. APEX is happy to argue that our prime minister, with all his flaws, appears like a saint following Trump’s coup de grâce at the first US Presidential debate on Sept 30: Far from the magnanimous leader of the planet’s sole superpower, Trump appeared like a street thug in the vital debate.

He openly lied, including on life-and-death issue of the Covid-19 pandemic. He belittled his opponent’s family. He declined to denounce white supremacists (in fact, he often behaved like their spokesperson). Trump even refused to commit to accepting the result of the US presidential election. The common reaction on Nepali social media after the despicable early morning CNN spectacle was that of exasperation. Many of those who watched the acrimonious debate had headaches (including this writer), and could not believe their eyes and ears: how could the most powerful and best educated democracy in the world elect this clown for president?

Some Nepalis said they realized their country had more to teach the US on inclusive nation-building than the other way round—so bye-bye preachy American INGOs. Others were more sanguine, as they reflected on how democracies can be brought low by demagogues, in countries rich and poor. The lunatic right-fringe Trump represents is not unique to the US. It is in fact gaining traction all over the world, including in our neighborhood. In Nepal too the trend of victimizing the victimized—be it war victims, Dalits, or other marginalized groups—has polarized the society. 

Not everyone accepts the new Nepali constitution. A small spark could again lead to a conflagration in Province 2 or in the Tharu strongholds in the far west. Having reluctantly accepted federalism, Kathmandu has done little to accommodate these diverse regions and groups. The message from the US, currently in turmoil from a spreading pandemic and race riots, is that we should not take our liberties for granted. It only takes one demagogue like Trump to roll them all back and put the country on the path of (another) civil war. Trump’s America is not so much a beacon of hope as it is a cautionary red light.   

Honoring Dr Govinda KC’s demands for reforms in health education, most healthcare professionals agree, would vastly improve public health. This has been true since Dr KC sat on his first fast-unto-death in early 2012. He has since tirelessly campaigned for affordable medical education, proper supervision of medical colleges, and decentralization of these colleges away from major urban hubs. The country in the grip of a pernicious pandemic, the importance of his demands has never been higher. Nepal’s current healthcare system has fallen woefully short in managing the Covid-19 emergency. 

Decentralization of medical colleges would have ensured that many more people were tested on time to forestall a ticking corona time-bomb. A handful of labs in Kathmandu would not have had to bear all Covid-19 testing burden. Nor would those infected flock to Kathmandu’s overcrowded hospitals for the management of their symptoms. So Dr KC’s demands cannot be taken lightly, nor can his moral standing be easily belittled. Yet the recent police manhandling of this saintly doctor, who was on his 19^th fast-unto-death, suggests those in the government see him as their bitter enemy and reckon brute force is the only way to deal with him. Meanwhile, there is no sign of any of his major demands being fulfilled.

Government representatives hate Dr KC as he seems determined to break their nexus with the medical mafia, the cash cow of many top NCP leaders. Nearly eight years of Dr KC’s tireless crusade has elicited many promises on medical education reform, but these promises have seldom been kept. The nexus appears determined to tire out the sexagenarian orthopedic surgeon; or, more sinisterly, to see him die during one of his fasts. The irony of the most powerful government in Nepal’s democratic history working in the medical mafia’s interest—while depriving people of their constitution right to healthcare—is not lost on anyone.  

PM KP Oli and his government show breathtaking neglect of public health. They seem determined to have their way, even though honoring Dr KC’s demands would be highly popular. It would also be an indisputable proof of the NCP’s commitment to its electoral slogan of ‘Happy Nepali, Prosperous Nepal’. But this communist government, it’s getting increasingly clear, is beholden to crony capitalists. So long as money keeps flowing, winning the next round of elections should be easy and that, alas, seems to be its sole concern.