Submit your Article

Running the government was not an easy task for Tulsi Giri who had been out of power for 11 years. On 9 September 1977, Prime Minister Giri was planning to meet a Japanese delegation after receiving Yugoslav ambassador at Singha Durbar, who had paid him a courtesy visit. Right at that time he was informed that the cabinet had been dissolved.

The palace notice shocked Giri. As if the dismissal was not enough, the palace later dragged him into a corruption case when, in 1978, he was charged on a ‘carpet scam’. The palace had in 1975 formed the Commission for Control of Abuse of Authority to control high-level corruption and the carpet case was its first: 91 bigwigs including politicians, businessmen, and bureaucrats were implicated.
Following the incident, Giri became disillusioned with the Panchayat regime. But a conservative section of Panchayat used to adore him and wanted him to stay in politics. With the announcement of referendum in 1979, conservative Panchas brought him back into active politics. He gave stirring speeches at public rallies in support of Panchayat. But he also said he was victim of conspiracy and was ready to be hanged if corruption charges against him were proven.
During the Panchayat regime, Giri was projected as a firebrand politician. In the referendum rallies, he used to say, “If the King so orders, we Panchas should be willing even to put on a saree.”

On 14 May 1980, when the result of the referendum was published, Giri made a surprise announcement of quitting active politics. He said he had taken ‘political retirement’ as he wanted to live a peaceful civilian life. Many did not buy it. After all, city walls were still wet with the slogan, “Giri is the mother of Panchayat system.”
Three years after his ‘retirement’, Giri gave a famous speech on 16 December 1983: “I am worried that the party-less system is under threat. But I will keep fighting for its longevity.” In 1985, the country was geared for year-long celebration of the silver jubilee of Panchayat system. Giri was made the coordinator of the celebrations but left the country for good before the celebrations ended.
Many interpreted Giri’s leave as a case of sulking as he was no longer in a position of power. Out of the country, he was gradually slipping into anonymity. But still some people went to meet him during his 19 years spent between Sri Lanka and India’s Bangalore. The message they carried back was: “Giri will never return to politics.” It served as a useful reference for people to criticize those who clung to power: “They better learn from Giri.”
On 1 February 2005 when King Gyanendra took over, he thought of using the same people whom his father Mahendra trusted. He appointed himself the chairman of the council of ministers, and chose Giri and Kritinidhi Bista for the two vice-chairmen’s posts.
The palace regarded Giri as a ‘sharp horse’ and Bista as a man of morality. But Gyanendra failed to realize that the once ‘sharp horse’ had now grown senile. Giri was already 78 when he was appointed cabinet vice-chairman.
Giri used to say he was a man without ideology, from the start of the Panchayat era till the February 1 royal coup. Addressing reporters after assuming office following the coup, he said, “My personal opinions are not important. I surrendered my opinions to the king way back in 1960.”
In fact, one can call him an ‘extremist’—in religion and in politics. In each case, he jumped from one end to the other. He was involved with the Hindu ‘Swayamsevak Sangh’ in India, a Hindu nationalist militant group, in his
early years.
He later ditched Hinduism to take up Christianity. Once an opponent, he turned into a staunch supporter of monarchy. From one extreme, he easily went to another. This ‘flexible’ politician died on 18 December 2018, aged 93 O
Next week’s ‘Vault of History’ will discuss the Panchayati-era system of picking four MPs to the national legislature from among Bachelors’ degree holders.

Okay, the event’s a little old but still worth bringing up for its rich symbolism. By the time yours truly got into the jampacked stadium, the battle royale was already over, and the crowd was going euphoric with Nepal clinching a victory against an up-and-coming footballing nation in the neighbourhood. You see, there come in the not-so-eventful life of yours truly some important engagements that coincide with other equally important events. The fiddler high above had perhaps set the date of the battle royale with this important event to make an otherwise mundane life a little bit
more interesting.

Looking back, getting a ticket to the football finale was akin to winning a Mahabharata of sorts. It meant having faith in the online ticketing system that was down most of the time and trying desperately with fellow football fans to get those coveted seats at double the usual price to watch the home team play against a country finding perfect happiness after evicting more than a lakh of her citizens by committing atrocities against the hapless lot and driving many of them into suicide, under the watchful gaze of the international community, including the world’s
largest democracy.
So, despite having fought frustration brewing against the system to get the ticket at a hefty price, watching the gem of the game was something that was not to be. The only solace was making it to the closing ceremony of the South Asian Games 2019 at its dying moments.
It felt good to cheer the home team with the rest of the crowd. Watching a kid dance and sing for Nepal was pure delight, so were occasional bursts of firecrackers and flashing of thousands of mobile phones in celebration. That day, Nepali fans showed to the rest of the world a decent soccer culture. Yours truly hopes this event will go a long way in projecting a positive image of Nepal to the outside world and making the Visit Nepal Year 2020 a
smashing success.
That day, even not-so-powerful speeches from members of the new aristocracy to the hoi polloi appeared tolerable. Even doubling of ticket prices
seemed okay.
At one point, the audiovisual system failed and the head of the government could be seen and not heard on the giant screen. Even this glitch did not provoke the spectators, who were on cloud nine after the thin victory in the football finale, which was icing in the cake for Nepal that stood second in the overall
medal tally.
The show is over and it is time for some serious reflection, isn’t it? Let me take this opportunity to offer some humble suggestions to whoever in the high and the mighty club is listening: The government can do sports fans a huge favor by not hiking ticket prices at the 11th hour. It can win hearts and minds by making sincere efforts to control elements that want to make hay while the sun shines during
such occasions.
With a little bit of hard work, less talk and less focus on taking the credit for the successes, the government machinery can avoid minor glitches. You see, there was quite a rush to take the credit for organizing the great games successfully, but the organizers should also take the ‘credit’ for what went wrong.
For one, a sports journalist sustaining injuries in police action during the event will not send a positive message from Nepal to the world. Over time, let’s hope, Nepal will be able to organize international sporting events. There’s no reason why Nepal cannot be a great sporting destination. It has almost all that it takes to make it a great sporting destination, like pleasant weather and natural beauty. The focus now should now be on enhancing institutional capacity, building adequate sports infrastructure and investing more on the hospitality sector, to offer sports fans and sportspersons a home away from home.
Thinking over the euphoria and the bursts of joy at the stadium, those great fans of Team Nepal were looking for heroes in one more avenue of this country where political leaders of all hues have specialized in inflicting self-goals. For about three centuries, the Nepalis have been looking for heroes in politicos and disappointment is what successive generation has got, even after giving it all for this country. Never has a search for a hero, who would help bring a country back from the brink by putting national interests above all else, been so long and frustrating.

Nepali student unions are long used to shutting down education institutions. Now even teachers and staffers seem to be getting into it, as is evidenced at Kathmandu University in Dhulikhel, which had thus far been spared of such disruptive shutdowns.

KU professors and staffers have shut down classes of different faculties and departments, demanding recognition of their organizations—Kathmandu University Professor Association (KUPA), and Kathmandu University Staff Association (KUSA)—from the university. They have even been padlocking department and dean offices for the past three weeks.
The university, established in 1991, had long been untouched by party politics before it gave in to the demand for the opening of student unions affiliated to different political parties. Among the sufferers are foreign students, who constitute 20 percent of the total university students.
Maisha Spriha of Bangladesh is a student of pharmacy. She expresses her frustration with the shutdown: “It’s hard on us students. To be honest, it’s hard on the teachers as well. If this shutdown brings positive changes in the university, then we are fine with it. But we can’t say if that’ll be the case.”
The associations claim the shutdown is aimed at safeguarding the interests of not only teachers and staffers, but also of the students. They are demanding that the university ‘honor’ past agreements of recognizing the associations.
“On August 30 last year, KU’s executive council agreed to grant recognition to both the organizations. It also agreed to address our three demands—allowing KUPA’s president to take part in the university’s executive council meeting, ensuring transparency in administrative works of the university, and building mechanism to guarantee career growth of teachers and employees at the varsity,” says Bed Mani Dahal, president of KUPA.
He lambasts the executive council for not addressing those demands.
Deepak Dahal, a manager at the university, says students are suffering due to the teachers strike. “It is difficult to immediately fulfill their demands. They can only be addressed via the university senate in the presence of the prime minister and education minister,” says Dahal.
Meanwhile, students are mostly expressing their frustrations through social media.
“The university administration is sleeping like a log, and the professors and employees have resorted to protests. Students are suffering,” writes Kokish Busal, a student of mechanical engineering, on Facebook. Likewise, Kiran Gyawali, a law student, writes: “Maybe we run a public hearing with the vice chancellor, registrar, KUPA/KUSA members, and students to find a way out. How long should it go like this? There are rumors that classes will not reopen until January 27.”
“The concerned authorities should resolve it as soon as possible and keep us students out of it. They may choose to close the administration, but why cancel classes?” asks Spriha.
Bigen Aryal, a computer science student at the university, says he does not know who is right and who is wrong. “We only know that the conflict between the management and teachers is troubling all the students,” he says.

Leela Devkota, 38, was returning to her home near Budhanilkantha Temple at around 10:00 on the morning of 14 December 2019. As she was walking on the sidewalk, a grey Suzuki car breached the sidewalk, and ran over her. She was later pronounced dead on arrival at a nearby hospital.
Police investigation showed 21-year-old Prithiva Malla was driving the car—under the influence. In fact, he was completely drunk. The car was full of beer bottles and, reportedly, even illegal drugs. He had three other friends in the car.

The killing of a working mother of three by an inebriated driver created much uproar. The fact that the incident occurred during unusual hours for drunk driving came as a surprise for many. It later turned out that Malla had been out on a drinking spree with his friends for the whole night before the accident.
Nepal Police’s alcohol detection test for drunk drivers, popularly known as Mapase, has been credited for controlling alcohol-induced accidents in the Kathmandu Valley. But the case of Malla throws a different light on this issue.
The record of Metropolitan Traffic Police Department Kathmandu shows reduction in the rate of alcohol-induced accidents until four years ago. But the trend has been reversing in the past three years.
In FY 2016/17, there were 167 drunk-driving accidents, killing seven. The number of accidents rose to 221 in 2017/18 with 11 deaths, and to 283 with 16 deaths in 2018/19. In the first five months of 2019/20, already 237 accidents have been recorded, with four deaths.
Does it indicate waning effectiveness of Nepal Police’s alcohol detection test? Or does it show the alcoholics have found a way out—driving when there is no Mapase test? It is hard to say.
“Improvement is needed in the way traffic police work. Each officer on the street should have at least a breathalyzer to detect alcohol,” says Govinda Bhattarai, road activist and senior advisor at Nepal Automobile Association (NASA), an organization that works for road safety. “There is also no machine to trace other drugs.”
For somebody caught driving under the influence, the punishment is Rs 1,000 in fine, an hour-long road safety class at the traffic police, and a hole punched in the driving license. Five such holes will lead to the license’s suspension. Altogether 444 licenses have been suspended in eight years of the Mapase control campaign.
“The punishment for drunk driving is inadequate,” Bhattarai adds. “And the alcohol test is done only during the evening hours. The alcoholics know when and how to avoid the Mapase tests.”
The traffic police say they have challenges of their own.
“There are several reasons why we have not been able to trace drunk drivers,” said traffic police spokesperson and Superintendent of Police Jeevan Kumar Shrestha. “First, we don’t have enough manpower. Second, it is difficult for us to inspect during the day due to rush hours. Likewise, they might also be using alternate roads where our officers are not on duty.”
Shrestha is aware that there may be plenty of people who drink and drive during daytime.
Nearly every month, a couple of cases of alcohol-related accidents in the daytime are reported, says Jitesh Dahal, an inspector at traffic police. Yet there is no systemic record of the total number of road accidents in the daytime, much less due to alcohol.
“We are doing our job. But the drivers and their families also need to be aware of their roles,” says SP Shrestha. “These days, parents are often uncaring if their children come home drunk. Discipline starts at home. I ask parents to check what their children are doing.”