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Guru Nanak Jayanti this past week was an occasion to remember the great Indian master, Guru Nanak Dev Ji, and his teachings. Born in Nankana Shahib near Lahore (now in Pakistan) in 1469, this householder monk was deeply troubled by the Hindu-Muslim tussle about their ideas of God. Like all great masters, he displayed exceptional traits right from his childhood, and showed clear signs that he would pursue the path of God.

When he was 11, he refused to put on the sacred thread, which all Hindu boys were supposed to wear. He said it was not necessary to know God. He often sat in meditative trance. Once on a hot summer day when he was lying under a tree in a trance, a cobra stood over his face flaring its hood, protecting the boy from sunlight. The onlooking villagers were amazed when the snake moved as the sun moved.

At 30, Nanak disappeared under the depths of a river and emerged three days later, enlightened. His utterances, starting with “There is but One God, His name is Truth,” marked the beginning of a new spiritual movement. Followers of the movement were to be known as Sikhs (Sanskrit śiṣya, meaning a disciple or learner who is open to śikṣā, learning). His words formed the content of Adi Granth, the first Sikh scripture. This new movement would have universal brotherhood, altruism, overcoming five vices (lust, anger, greed, attachment, pride), and one-pointed focus on a formless single God as its hallmarks.

Once Nanak’s father gave him some money for business. On his way to another town, Nanak saw some mendicant saints and spent all his money to feed them. On returning home, young Nanak got reprimand by the angry father for failing to do business and wasting money. “Why do business?” Nanak asked. “To earn profit,” father replied. Nanak smiled, and said: “Well, father, then I did brilliant business. I earned the divine profit, which nobody can ever measure!”

In another story, Nanak gave a needle—an ordinary one—to a disciple and told him to keep it for him for some time. When the disciple's wife knew it, she became worried that the husband would be forever indebted if the aging master died before taking the needle back. So the husband ran after him and handed him the needle, saying: "If you die, I can't take it to heaven to return to you." Feigning surprise, Nanak asked: "Why? Can't you take even a tiny little needle with you after death?" "No," the disciple answered. Nanak asked again: "Then why do you keep so much money with you?" The disciple had an instant realization. He was freed from greed.

Guru Nanak dismissed all forms of dogmas and rituals. He rejected fasting, killing, and caste discrimination. He gave women equal social status as men. Following the teachings of Nanak and his nine succeeding teachers, a Sikh would seek the One God (Ek Onkar), and engage in three virtuous acts: Naam Japo (keeping God in mind all the time), Kirat Karo (acting righteously and earning honestly), and Vand Chhako (giving in charity). Perhaps you would not like to miss the soothing Keertan (singing) of Shabad—the lines from the Guru Granth Shahib—or the delicious food of Langar, the Gurudwara kitchen where people from all castes, creed, and faiths are fed with equal respect.

Nanak learned from both Hindu and Muslim traditions. For his impartial love and service, everyone loved him. He was a great dispeller of disputes. When he died, his Muslim and Hindu followers wanted to do the death ritual in their own ways. But when they removed the cloth covering the saint's dead body, they found only a heap of flowers.

The Chinese hate foreign meddling in their domestic politics. Hence their reluctance to butt into the internal politics of other countries. That, at least, was traditionally the case. But as it gains economic and military heft, and under a leader determined to establish China as the preeminent world power, China’s diplomatic instruments are getting blunt. There was no gainsaying its recent message to Nepali Prime Minister KP Oli: maintain the Nepal Communist Party unity at all costs, even if it entails him giving up the post of prime minister or party co-chairperson. Oli, unsurprisingly, has rebuffed Chinese envoy Hou Yanqi’s many recent meeting requests.

Unhappy with the pressure from the north, Oli has looked to cultivate the southern neighbor. He has sent to Delhi ‘informal’ envoys to resurrect his old contacts. Foreign Minister Pradeep Kumar Gyawali is himself slated to visit the Indian capital at December-end. India has reciprocated Oli’s gesture, espying no other way to cut the ‘pro-China’ NCP down to size: witness the recent flurry of high-level Indian visits to the Nepali capital. But, one may ask, didn’t Chinese Defense Minister Wei Fenghe also come calling at the same time?

He did, but of his own accord. Oli didn’t seem to be listening to the Chinese envoy in Kathmandu or to China’s other emissaries. Wei came to force Oli to listen. Interestingly, during his brief Kathmandu stay, Wei spent hours chatting up the Nepal Army top brass, not in pow-wows with top political leaders. The Oli government appearing shaky, China is hedging its bets and has intensified efforts to establish the mighty Nepal Army as its new ‘permanent friend’ in Kathmandu, much like it relied disproportionately on the monarchy before 2006.

Revealingly, Indian Foreign Secretary Harsh Vardhan Shringla, during his own two-day Kathmandu trip, met leaders from across the political spectrum—but not Prachanda. This was done at Oli’s special request, say insiders. These are not the only signs of thawing ties between the Indian and Nepali establishments.

It’s an open secret within the NCP that the current pro-monarch and Hindu state protests have Oli’s tacit support. Otherwise, pandemic-time protests with thousands of attendees would have been impossible, when much smaller gatherings were nipped in the bud. (The prohibitory orders against pro-monarchy protests later came from the Maoist home minister.) Oli wants to reciprocate India’s support by keeping the BJP in good humor. This bolsters the speculation of otherwise more conspiracy-minded strategic analysts who reckon the BJP would like to see Nepal reinstated as a Hindu state ahead of the 2022 Uttar Pradesh state elections, to further strengthen Aditya Yoginath’s grip on the heart of the Hindi belt.

Oli ascended to power on the back of the 2015-16 Indian blockade. He is minded to jump ship again, back into the arms of his old Indian patrons. He wants to kiss and make up. In return, he will not needle India on border (left out of agenda during Shringla’s visit) nor speak too loudly in favor of the EPG (again not discussed).

The fast-changing power equations in Kathmandu are ripe for geopolitical maneuverings too. If the NCP splits, will the Chinese openly back the Prachanda faction? Or do they look to further cultivate the army? How does India balance its old support for Nepali Congress and Madhesi parties with its new penchant for Oli? And what will be the American role in all this?

On cue, international publications have started describing Nepal as “a frontline state in the new cold war”.  

Back in 2006, it was a mesmerizing feeling. The euphoria was unbeatable. Just before the elections of the first Constituent Assembly, I had to leave for India. I was still in service then with the Indian Army, and was crossing the border from Bhairawaha. An elderly lady, most probably in her sixties, started interacting with me in the rickshaw we shared.

'Why are you leaving at this time? Why can't you wait for a few more days and go after the elections? This, after all, is not a small event.' She was clearly disappointed by my disregard of the most important political event in Nepal’s history, and she showed it.

The words, the passion, the emotion, the authority, the hope, and the power that she conveyed is etched in my memory as representation of the mindset that we, Nepali people, had at that stage. We were elated by the end of conflict—we were so happy that the war had ended that we almost believed in the utterly ridiculous promises that our politicians made.

Somehow, and rather sneakily, the monarchy was booted out. Personally, I considered this a progress, but the immorality of the process also bred grudges among its supporters.

This was followed by the Madhesh Andolan and the long running conflicts in the CA. In the process, while the CA was also doubling as the parliament, people began to realize that politics in Nepal is still a loathsome chaotic feudal power struggle that thrives in brinkmanship.

Slowly, dreams were shattered, and the intelligentsia, in their naivety, normalized the ugliness of the stupidity, treachery and immorality.

After eight long years, and after one more election, when the constitution was finally promulgated, a new era of hope emerged. And the local elections held almost after two decades had brought new optimism.

We were made to believe that the Singh Durbar had come to our villages, a metaphor used often by our intelligentsia and politicians alike to suggest the decentralization that has come about through state-restructuring.

After all this rollercoaster ride of history in the 21^st century, today, we are in the midst of a crisis yet again. At the center in Kathmandu, we have a government of the party that has a huge majority in the parliament, but infighting between its two chairmen has made it look like a circus. The power struggle has become so illogical and shameful that everything and anything that can be blamed on each other is being penned and named a political proposal for party unity. Ultimately, it has led to a public display of utter nonsense packaged under the name of the communist movement.

The provincial governments haven't been able to justify their existence in past three years, and the local governments, where the people are directly in touch with the state mechanism, have become a hotbed of malpractices.

At the present, our governments, at all levels, are facing a double whammy of incompetence and immorality. Wastage of resources from ill-conceived plans and projects are rampant. At the same time, local politicians are busy exploiting the state and natural resources for personal gains.

For example, many ward chairmen, in the rural municipalities, are owners of bulldozers. And no doubt they spend most of the money from government budget in these bulldozers.

Now, at the end of 2020, in the midst of a pandemic, I find the whole situation befuddling. How did we end up here? Where did we lose track? What's the way out of this vicious circle?

I have spent most of my youth writing optimistically about Nepal's politics. I have vouched for alternative politics in the hope that new and younger leaders would bring new changes in the ecosystem that will in turn nudge institutions involved in nation building.

I have also directly gotten involved with the local government at my hometown, as an advisor, with enthusiasm, in the hope that if we lay the foundation now, we will build a better future for generations to come.

But things obviously did not work as we had envisaged or were made to believe. And from personal experience, I can say that the politicians are not the only ones to be blamed.

Nepali society has a high level of tolerance for corruption, and no regard for efficiency and competence. This attitude dominates the way our institutions function, including our government and private agencies. Is there a way out? How do we challenge this?

The only way out of this dark tunnel is for Nepal's educated youths to take the onus. Things won’t change unless we demand respect for competence from ourselves, from the institutions we are involved in, and our society. Unless we stake claim in political and social leadership, unless we dirty our hands and step out of our comfort zone, we do not have the moral authority to expect as much from politicians. For unless we do away with this immorality and incompetence, we are doomed.

The indicators from the mass rallies in support of monarchy are not good. We definitely don't want to jump into the fire from the frying pan.

We’re wasting a lot of money on the Western medical system, money that Nepal cannot afford.

Let’s think about the enormous costs that is going into Covid-testing. While testing is promoted as the most sensible way to go about defeating this pandemic, there are hidden costs. A pharmacist in my neighborhood told me large numbers of people had tested positive, but nobody had symptoms, including an elderly man on dialysis. “Everything is normal,” she said with skepticism. She seemed to hint the coronavirus panic was overblown. She added coronavirus was affecting mental health: a young teenager who had gone to test herself received a positive result, then a negative one at another hospital, then a positive one again at a hospital which refused to release her report, citing regulations, leading her to depression and mental health issues.

I can see people on Twitter anxiously writing about how often they should test. Should they test each week? The problem with the testing paradigm is that you can test negative and walk out, and on the way out of the testing center catch the virus. I’m uncertain how long it takes to incubate, but you could be infectious 24 hours after a negative result.

In such a scenario, does it make sense to emphasize testing? As an Ayurveda advocate, I feel we could better utilize those funds on boosting people’s immunity via time tested supplements like chyawanprash. Instead of massive free Covid tests, why doesn’t the Nepal government spend the same funds to hand out free bottles of vaidyakhana chyawanprash to frontline workers, regardless of age, class or ethnic background? I would love to see how that may turn the tide of the pandemic.

I can also see people on social media asking for medical help, and receiving pat answers citing commonly prescribed antibiotics. This is a viral pandemic, not a bacterial one. This seems to be lost on the people who reach for antibiotics like they reach for Hajmola candy.

Besides warning people about the harm of self prescribed antibiotics, the government needs to prepare and distribute a list of time-tested herbal remedies which are low cost and easy to procure locally. Some of these could be as easy as a one rupee tamarind candy, a brand of which I take each time I feel like I’m falling sick. Tamarind (imli) has high Vitamin C content and its seeds are known to prevent pneumonia.

In most people’s minds, however, a one rupee candy won’t do: healing is not healing until you spend 20 lakhs! As someone trained in anthropology, I suspect complex family power dynamics of whose life is more valuable may also be playing into this “fight to get hospitalized” scenario.

I am cognizant of the 1,500-plus deaths, plus the grief and distress people are feeling from coronavirus in Nepal. The emotive nature of the moment can bring feelings of outrage. Especially for the scientifically inclined who see hospitals, big pharma and ventilators as the one and only way to heal people, the dismissal of modern medicine can appear regressive and cruel. But even doctors have been quoted in articles as saying the majority of coronavirus patients will recover without any medical intervention.

Americans are reporting a dramatic range of post-hospitalization symptoms, now known as “long Covid.” We have no idea if those symptoms, including dementia and memory loss, are caused by drugs. People also have kidney and liver damage. There has been no comparative research of those who chose Ayurveda over those who went to the hospitals. If such a study were done, we could see if those who stayed out of hospitals have those symptoms. That most reliable newsgathering agency of the world, the BBC, has reported as fact that dementia and memory loss are caused by coronavirus. There is, however, no research to prove this is the case.

I recently heard of a family friend who is seriously ill with the coronavirus. What I know about him, besides the fact that he is a simple—humble man who’s lived an austere and disciplined life—is that he has several family members who are engaged in the medical profession. I have no doubt he received the best western medical care, including oxygen. To my mind, this has become a death knell. Someone who may have been cured by traditional remedies may never recover from this virus due to the debilitating effects of modern medication.

Health discourse is structured to silence those who seek to question the hegemonic narrative of Western scientific superiority. There is no room for those who question the efficacy of this system. Do we need billions of dosages of expensive vaccines frozen at minus 80 degrees and which need freezers that don’t exist in most parts of the world? Who are the scientists creating these nonsensical, expensive products after vacuuming up billions of dollars that should have gone to sensible, low cost healing?

Doctors have saved my life after the earthquake. I am deeply grateful to them for patching me back together. But that doesn’t stop me from speaking the truth about this pandemic: we must save our hospital beds for accidents, surgeries and childbirths, not overburden the hospital system, and treat coronavirus patients at home with the herbal, Ayurvedic and Amchi medicines we have been given by our ancient cultures and traditions.

These are the author’s personal views