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I’m having a love-hate relationship with Facebook at the moment. My sister has gone fully for the latter and completely come off it this week. Often referred to in the West as an ‘old persons’ app, my young relatives do not use it but prefer Instagram and Snapchat. Thankfully Nepal is still very much ‘old school’ when it comes to social media and everything you ever wanted to know about anything is there. On Facebook. I don’t think I could go through the strain of learning a new app. So for those two reasons I love it. It’s easy to use and all I want to know is there at my finger-tips.

But I hate it right now because it keeps coming up with those “Memories”.  Memories of what you were doing this day last year, or the year before, or the year before that. Stretching all the way back to 2009 in my case.

And what I was doing this day in year 20xx is:

Jazzmandu: Always scheduled between Dashain and Tihar I have been attending Jazzmandu since I do believe the second one held in 2003. Those early festivals saw very few locals in the audience, which was mainly made up of resident foreigners. But since Nepalis love music and have no preconceptions, jazz grew to be loved and played around town. As Jazzmandu grew, more and more international musicians joined the local jazz musicians and those playing Nepali classical music on traditional instruments.

In 2013 and 2014 I was part of the Jazzmandu Media Team and got to see behind stage. That was a lot of fun and hard work. My two favourite events are always the Jazz Bazaar at Gokarna Forest Resort and Jazz at the Temple House. The former, a whole day of music in the autumn sun, then wrap up, and letting dancing warm us up in the cool of the evening; the latter, an extraordinary blend of the traditional and the modern set in a beautiful inner courtyard and bringing Tihar alive for me. Actually with Nepali classical musicians the likes of Santosh Bhakta, and the late Rabin Lal Shrestha, Jazz at the Temple House IS Tihar for me. But sadly Jazzmandu is missing this year.

Theater and performing art: Whether ‘regular’ theater at one of the many around town, or a special performance by likes of Solis Performing Arts or visiting performers hosted several times a year by the Japanese Embassy—I miss them all! All over the world performance art has been cancelled in 2020. From the Edinburgh International Festival to the International Theatre Festival held in Kathmandu, and a host of others—they are all missing this year.

Leading up to Dashain: As well as the above, post-monsoon and the lead up to Dashain is always a fantastic time music-wise in Kathmandu. Whether its album launching at 25 Hours or Moksh; a visiting rock band at Purple Haze; the house band at Shisha; festivals the likes of the Boudha Rock Festival or the Kathmandu Blues & Roots Festival and gigs at numerous other venues, this time of year is always a time of music. Venue hopping and even genre hopping in an evening was nothing unusual for this time of year. All missing this year.

Then there are holidays: Often in September and October I would be in either Scotland or South East Asia, normally Thailand. Sadly holidaying in any country is out of question for the foreseeable future. Even Pokhara looks alarmingly tricky. 

So while it’s lovely to see those old memories and watch the past live videos I posted, some days I just can’t bear to open those Facebook Memories.

When we talk of bhakti, or the path of devotion, nobody compares to Mira (Mirabai of Mewar). She surpasses even Radha—the famous consort of yogi Krishna—in perfecting bhakti. Radha met Krishna in physical body. She didn't have to cultivate devotion for him; she just got the charismatic teenager's best attention among the many gopinis, the cow-herder women of Brindaban in northern India. Many thousand years after Krishna's passing, Mira, in her sanctuary, could materialize him in physical form and love him. Could bhakti be perfected any better?

When Mira was about five, she saw a wedding procession and asked her mother if she too had a bridegroom. The mother simply told her that she could take Krishna as her groom. That was it—Mira became Krishna's. She started loving his idol as her husband. Later her father gave her in marriage to Bhoj Raj, the crown prince of Mewar in Rajasthan. Bhoj Raj respected Mira's Krishna love and became her protector. But he died and the regime went to his brother Rana Vikram Singh.

In the conservative patriarchal society of 16^th-century India, Rana couldn't tolerate the ecstatic singing and dancing of Mira—a bride of the royal family—in front of ordinary people in her temple. So he tried to kill her. He sent her a poisonous snake hidden inside a flower basket, but when Mira opened the basket, the snake turned into a garland. He then put poisoned nails beneath her bed and covered it with rose petals. When Mira lied down, all nails became rose petals. He then sent her a pot of the deadliest poison, stating that it was nectar. Mira drank the poison but remained unaffected. Hearing the power of Mira's devotional singing, Mughal emperor Akbar and his legendary musician Tansen visited her in disguise. Akbar became so enchanted that he touched her feet—an act unthinkable of the great Akbar who was not only a proud king but also an enemy of the Mewar royals.

These are not episodes of a fairy tale, but life events of a real human who walked on earth 500 years ago. But how can it be possible? How can a snake turn into a flower garland? How can one just gulp down the deadliest poison and not get harmed?

We may find it hard to conceive. But there is no confusion for a true devotee. In true devotion, you don't remain you. The duality vanishes and you become your God. And the miracles we imagine for God become a reality for the devotee. Is there any poison that can kill the God? Doesn't king cobra salute Shankar, the great yogi who is ever one with the ultimate, and adorn his neck as an ornament?

Mira's oneness with her God—Krishna—is as perfect as it can be. He comes in flesh and bones for her. He dances for her, talks to her, sings to her, and embraces her. We don't know much about Mira's end. But the legend goes: in her 50's, she went to Dwaraka, the seat of Krishna's kingdom in India's west coast. There, the heart of Krishna's idol opens, Mira jumps in and disappears.

The demand for death penalty for rapes in Nepal tacks to the illiberal winds blowing across the world, helped in no small part by the speedy growth of social media. Of course, most of us are outraged when we first hear of an incident like the Sept 23 rape-and-murder of a 12-year-old Dalit girl of Bajhang district. Pre-social media, we had time to think through such cases, and to weigh evidence for the efficacy of extreme measures like death penalty before we jumped to conclusions. We would then know capital punishment as a crime-deterrent is ineffective, and often counterproductive.  

On paper, Pakistan hangs the rapists of minors. But when a minor is actually raped there, it is the victim who cops more of the blame for appearing ‘slutty’ or wearing ‘revealing’ clothes. Seldom are the men punished. Bangladesh—with over 1,000 cases of sexual assaults in 2020 alone—just reinstated death penalty for rapes. Yet it is expected to have minimal deterrent effect. In one survey, nearly 90 percent of men who admitted to sexually assaulting women in Bangladesh said they expected to get away with it. The Maldives flogs women who have premarital sex. Things are no better in Sri Lanka (which has lately been in the news for systemic rape of male Tamil detainees). where Tamil detainees the police the ‘rape capital’ of South Asia. Then there is Bhutan, where the husband of a raped woman is liable for compensations for the wife’s ‘adultery’. 

The attitude to sexual violence and rapes is as blasé in India. Men feel entitled to physically prevail upon women, and many of them express surprise when told they might be prosecuted for ‘having sex’ with a woman of their choice. India has had no letup in rapes since the hanging of the four gang-rapists in the Nirbhaya case in March, anecdotal evidence suggests. 

The problem, again, is lack of conviction for rapes—perhaps as little as 5 percent of all sexual offenders in South Asia are punished—thanks to the corrupt and tardy legal systems. Legal scholars in SAARC member states are nearly unanimous that guaranteed punishment would be a stronger deterrent for rapes than the provision of death penalty. After all, if nobody is convicted, even death penalty becomes meaningless. 

Only authoritarian states like China and North Korea still routinely mete out the death penalty for rapes. A democratic Nepal has been forced to consider this radical option, partly as people here are losing their trust in the government. Perhaps they would be okay with a long prison sentence for rapists if they were sure that these rapists would serve out their time.  

Thankfully, women MPs in Nepal have been more sober-minded. Some are still gung ho on death penalty, yet most of them say they are open to other options, including chemical castration of convicted rapists and longer jail terms.   

The growing voice of our women is another thing that is worth celebrating. Nepali women—our MPs, lawyers, rights activists—are more than capable of working out just and effective punishments for sexual offenders. This in turn emphasizes the need to have more women in decision-making bodies. Our new constitution outlining guaranteed women’s representation goes some way towards ensuring this. But, again, it’s just the first step.   

The International Monetary Fund (IMF) projects Nepal’s economy to remain flat, with the expectation of zero growth in 2019/20 and deep recession in ongoing fiscal year 2020/21. This revision has come as the government has been struggling to cover salaries and other day-to-day expenditure. Many people have lost their jobs as economic activities have shrunk due to the massive spread of the novel coronavirus. The government has failed to contain virus spread. As a result, a section of the population is being forced under the poverty line.

Globally, the World Bank has expected around 150 million people to be pushed into extreme poverty—with an income of less than $1.90 a day—by the end of 2021. The pandemic is going to weigh heavy on developing countries like Nepal. Agricultural output is expected to decrease this year as rice production was hampered by the unavailability of chemical fertilizers. A sharp fall in rice production will affect poor farmers the most. Better preparedness could have averted this.

The World Bank Group’s biannual ‘Reversals of Fortune’ report states that poor countries like Cameroon, the Central African Republic, the Republic of Congo, Liberia, and Nepal will require tailored policy approaches. Post-crisis recovery and future poverty reduction in these complex settings will be challenging and time-consuming. Food insecurity, poverty, conflict, flood risks and other phenomena will further erode the prospect of quick recovery. There must be a coordinated approach to identify interactions among these phenomena to design effective responses.   

Further, the report designates Nepal as among the most vulnerable countries. “Nepal is potentially susceptible to all the major challenges: a pandemic, a recession, current or old conflicts (with enduring effects), and climate change (notably through flood risks),” it reads. “In such “hot spot” context, an array of responses commensurate with the scale and scope of these compounding challenges will be needed to advance inclusive growth and sustain poverty reduction.” This warning in turn brings to focus the government goal of making Nepal a mid-income country with its ‘Happy Nepali, Prosperous Nepal’ slogan. Rather than the country embarking on the path of prosperity, there is now a higher risk of poverty, inequality, and social disparities.

The government has decided to rely on foreign aid and debt to sustain state functions as revenue collection has dwindled. In the first quarter of 2020/21, expenditure crossed income from revenue, which is unusual. The government has failed to lower unnecessary expenditure. Moreover, it declared no measures were off limit to collect revenue during these critical times. The Inland Revenue Department (IRD) has announced that it would deregister almost 29,447 firms if they fail to clear their dues on time. These reckless decisions will further hamper the economy.

With the high risk of falling into poverty due to lack of opportunities, most youths would want to flee the country. The government has started directing its focus on running its own businesses rather than pay attention to people’s welfare. State machinery will probably survive at the cost of people’s suffering.

Against this backdrop, our development partners should rethink about funneling money into our state coffers without due diligence of service delivery. Actors like the World Bank, the IMF, and the Asian Development Bank must start holding governments from these vulnerable countries to account. People can’t do so on their own as these governments have captured electoral processes and other means of check and balance. Humanity’s future is in the hands of these multilateral actors. It is time for them to show some leadership.