Enigmatic Monuments

ECS

Text by : Moheindu Chemjong
Photographer : kishor kayastha

When the humdrum blues of daily existence starts to take over…When you feel the need to acknowledge your place in the Universe or catch God’s whisper…Or when you feel the need to re-discover your human spirit, I would say, “Indulge.” For a change, overindulge yourselves in the magical splendor of the marvelous, timeless, holy monuments of the Kathmandu Valley! I promise you a few hours of enchanted hypnosis!

If you are looking to quench your soul’s thirst like myself, I would recommend early mornings or early evenings. But if it’s just beauty that you are seeking in these famous symbols of the ancient Nepali civilization, you might as well let your heart decide the timing! Whether it’s the Pashupatinath temple, Swoyambhunath and the Dharahara in the Kathmandu Valley or the Changu Narayan temple in Bhaktapur or the Patan Durbar Square in Patan, you cannot escape the overwhelming touch of tranquility, the affluence of exotic spirituality, the extravagances of Nepali art and culture, and the lavishness of the rich and elaborate Nepali history.

In the early hush of the morning or in the evenings when Kathmandu draws her curtains to welcome another evening, these magical monuments draw worshippers and visitors alike to their bosoms. A few weeks ago, I, too decided to join the line. I luxuriated in the wait with flowers, fruits, incense and other offerings in my hands and as I waited, my heart was overcome by a certain rush of joy and peace.  My nostrils were delighted to the confluence of juniper and sandalwood fumes! I got totally mesmerized in the fumes and the lights of the diyas, butter lamps burnt and lighted by the worshippers ahead of me.

The sweet morning breeze and the ecstatic pigeons in hundreds joined me in reverent rhythms. Besides this vision of delight, I joined the worshippers in chants and prayers! When I heard the temple bells ring, the ambience was a world apart-I could sense pride, pain and other follies of life, exchange places with the seeds of warmth, verses of peace and urns of compassion. After offering prayers and getting blessings from the Gods, the worshippers learnt to practice their prayers, to serve, to help and show compassion by offering money, food and clothes to the beggars who sit on the temple courtyards and pray for kindness to be showered upon them.

In Swoyambhunath and other Buddhist shrines, the worshippers carried prayer wheels in their hands and many of them circumambulated in God’s name. Here, the prayer flags in tassels of bright hues added to that spiritual splendor and helped evoke the glorious, benevolent mélange of feelings, of modesty, of wonder, of self-realization and of  humility. In the throes of Compassion and Jubilation, you might feel you’re on the pavilions of the Gods!

When I’m immersed in the beautiful geometric vibrancy of these ancient monuments, I can’t help think that Lord Brahma might have consulted some other Gods before creating the Nepali race! After He created us, the Buddhist Gods of compassion, Awalokiteshwara and Chakwa Dyo must have filled our hearts with immense love, overflowing compassion and the holy lessons of good karma. When I look at the monuments, I am convinced that Saraswati, the Goddess of Fine Arts has blessed us and also endowed us with an innate aesthetic sense and hence, these pieces of art and beauty!

In Kathmandu Valley, UNESCO’s world heritage site, Vishnu, the God of Preservation, too seems to have touched us for many of us consider it our duty to work towards the preservation of these sites. Besides the kenso satori moments mentioned above, these holy shrines, temples,  and edifices of extraordinary power are also a blissful, visual retreat! Each of them has a very unique and distinctive style. Each carries in them the stories of the various dynasties from the Kirants to the contemporary rulers that ruled over Nepal and the mythologies of the existence of these very monuments.

From the enigmatic architecture to the ornamented stonework, exquisite woodcarvings, the beautiful sculptures, they all emaciate the heavenly essence of the Nepali philosophy of love, peace and compassion, and the harmonious fusion of the Hindu and Buddhist influences. They are indeed a celebration to the testimony of the rich culture and heritage of Nepal! Your purpose might have been spirituality. Your purpose might have been beauty. Like my colleague’s photographs which have given a completely new dimension in doubles, my fulfillment out of this visit also came in double digits.

Not only did I soak in the beauty and spiritual bliss, I also learnt a lesson of a life time. If our ancestors wanted to monere (Latin root word for monument), I would say their aspirations have come true. At that very divine moment, my favorite author Ralph Waldo Emerson’s philosophic statement, “The purpose of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well,” burst into appearance…..I caught God’s whisper and re-discovered my spirit!

Ropai

A stranger I met on the train once told me, “Sweetheart, always paint the walls of your heart with many beautiful pictures.” Today as I came home, I realized that I have done just that — for today I tasted a slice of paradise, another art form, the timeless art of ropai!

Come this marvelous monsoon season of Ashad and the Gods above bless Nepal with sweet summer and Nepali hearts are filled with the spirits of endeavor and aspiration. When the rain begins to pour, the Nepali farmers are smitten by the ropai bug- the time to work magic on the paddy fields. On the chosen day when a farmer decides to plant the paddy seedlings, relatives and friends are invited from far and wide, near and next door to play parma, the practice of helping others so that they will also help you some day, in order to help plant the seedlings – those precious seedlings that sustain life as a staple food for the entire year and a source of income, those seedlings of hope, compassion and life.

The day began with the latheys, gentlemen, ploughing the fields and leveling the deep layers of mud, moistened by the downpours of the day before. I began by soaking in the beauty of the hills that surrounded us in the summer splendor. The bluish skies pregnant with heavy rain droplets and the feelings of camaraderie amongst the ropai artists filled me with animated feelings of wonder and ecstasy. After the men played their parts, I, with the other ladies stepped on the velvety brown carpets of mother earth! The ladies including myself changed roles between the byares, who hand the seedlings that were earlier grown in trays and the ropareys, who do the actual task of planting the seedlings. I felt I was in a dream — a human who’d always lived among people who have embraced the sensational phenomenon of ropai all their lives but had never tried to understand them, a soul who had religiously been visiting mud-soak spas in foreign lands but had never let my pedicured feet ever touch the religious grounds of my own motherland!

And as we planted the paddy seedlings, my work colleagues and friends for the day began swooning choirs of emotions. I was awfully distracted in my work but I couldn’t help enjoying their dohoris as we all planted the seedlings of hope, motherhood, tolerance and life. The melodies carried a profusion of emotions of love between lovers, sisters and admirers, of the apparent simplicity of their lives, of the tragedies that had taken place in their lives and of unfulfilled desires and wishes. I got totally mesmerized and totally besotted by their simple thinking, their super simple ways, their conspicuous buoyancy of life and their ability to be happy with what they have.

When the steamy humidity of the summer’s day enveloped us, one of the ropareys handed us masala, sweet somethings which comprised of lollies, cardamom, cloves and betle nuts to break the monotony or shall I say to burnish the straightforwardness of this centuries old art? As hours went by and this aesthetic orgy continued, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters did not refrain from expressing their overflowing affection towards their younger ones, while some men relaxed on ‘gaida’ cigarettes.

Time and again, the slight hint of drizzle would tantalize and tease us. At 2pm, we decided to take a lunch break. We savored chiura, aloo tarkari, khasi tarkari and golveda ko aachar, to name a few. The choice of dishes wasn’t eclectic and I was sharing a plate with folks who were strangers to me till a few hours ago, but the experience was no lesser than a fine-dining experience with my favorite people. To be honest, the pleasure of simple dining left me completely satisfied! We resumed work after lunch and this time, I was taken into confidence and told the secrets and stories. I learnt the misery of a young lady who had been forced out of her own home for her better-half had left home for good. I learnt of a 62 year lady’s chyang business. I learnt of the joys of a mother whose adventurous, prodigal son who had left for Bahrain and had come back home for good. Such is the magical power of love of the motherland and the charm of ropai!

As our day’s work came to an end, it was time for fun, time to add the icing on the cake! It was time to shed all inhibitions, to forget ourselves and to dive in the flurry of the mud baths. Some of us, especially myself had really been looking forward to this. Hari’s accidental fall when trying to tease Rajan marked the beginning of the mud fight. Rajan began by grabbing mud and throwing it at the ladies. We, the ladies were equally sporty and adventurous when it came to healthy competition! The beautiful setting evening sun and the light drizzle added glamour to our magical game. We splattered one another with mud and started chasing the men around. There was mud and water all over, everyone was covered in mud from head to toe and there was a roar of pure laughter and sheer delight in the air. For those few hours, I felt we were really the children of the Universe, playing with and on her bounty with only happiness and joy on our minds!

When the mud frenzy came to an end, all of us posed for the photographer’s collection. Evening came and we had to hurry back home. We parted with the promises of meeting again. Only when I said goodbye to everyone, did I realize that I had fallen victim to a beautiful trance today – that of aesthetic ropai, of extravagant camaraderie and that of world class simplicity.

When I went to bed that night, I slowly relished those magnificent pictures, exquisite emotions and the religious lessons of ropai! Yes, stranger, you can come and check out the paintings on my heart right now...

The Wonders of Fruit

Conflict related....

One day with Mr. Rain

ECS

Slowly and tenderly, summer slipped off the stage and autumn stole the show.The strong heat wave gave way to the gentler autumn breeze. Escorted by the lullabies of the autumn breeze and announced by the musical trumpets of the sky, the autumn rain arrived in Kathmandu Valley.

The grand finale of this year’s monsoon came on a Saturday afternoon on a platter of emotions, served with the gentle strokes of hope. For the movie-buff, it meant a movie-marathon with the latest releases, some chippies and popcorns in front of the telly under the quilt. For the romantic at heart, it meant a grandiose shower of love, another reason to love and be loved and the perfect day to get cozy. For the farmers, a heavenly day to relax and watch the Almighty perform his divine magic on the fields with the holy liqueurs of the autumn rain. For the magpies, to swim in the birdbaths in the gardens.

For Kishor, a rainy day is a day where he feels like a king of the rain – powerful yet tender. A day to combine very wicked coffee with lots of hard work at his studio, a day to listen to hopelessly romantic serenades of love, a day to paint beautiful tender strokes of his art, a day to get lost in the magic of the rain. And for me, a rainy day is another where I feel creative epiphanies in my heart, I hear voices of marvelous things, I get lost in the likes of classical music, and while the drunkenness lasts, I let my imaginations dazzle and release the bard in me.

The last time a passionate downpour shone over the valley, my photographer colleague and I decided to drive around Kathmandu to soak up the magnificence of the callings in our hearts. To him, a wild riot of colors in the rain.To me, a rich repertoire of tender, poetic emotions.

I was advised to keep an open mind and soak in the colors of the rain and I went in like a child, with a sense of innate wonder and blissful curiosity. The most striking truth about the rainy day was the burst of a myriad of colors, brightened with the downpour and so full of emotions. The clouds were somber grey and black, but the souls seemed to be too full of love for life to indulge in harrowing oeuvres of sadness, fear or grief. Instead I found multicolored umbrellas and raincoats of blue and red, green and pink, purple and black, yellow and orange all spreading beautiful vibes, only positive vibes. The rain continued its magic as city-goers seemed totally busy in life, waiting for the next tuk-tuk, crossing roads, walking along the pavement, stopping for a cup of tea or a snack besides the road, laughing and talking away in the rain. I felt ecstatic, for I felt and saw people living for the pure joy of it.

The endless traffic crawled, drivers wiping their mirrors in the short intervals, adjusting their hair, tuning into FM stations to catch up on the latest political update or singing along and watching the promenade go by, making the most of what there was, healing, regenerating, harmonizing, living. The rain continued to pour but it seemed to break Nepalese hearts into song, life seemed unaffected. The traffic police continued to get wet in spite of their orange raincoats. They didn’t stop their whistling and their attempts to manage the traffic did not end. The walkers by without umbrellas took aid of their handkerchiefs to escape the rain and the students donning ties and formal uniforms marched in the rain even without raincoats. Along the pavements, people did not stop their trading even under the umbrellas—there was selling and there was buying of sweets, tea, fruits, vegetables and cigarettes.  The last few showers sprinkled upon the city-dwellers but the parallel lines of petrol buyers didn’t stop, neither did the multi-colored buses stop on the roads. Kathmandu seemed wet and gray but nowhere did I see tears of melancholy. The bright billboards continued to impose rainbow colors and impress with the marketers’ push strategy. It reminded me that it is our country after all, a country bountiful for one and for all!

Likewise the motorcyclists, often in beautiful shades of rainwear, hurried, on their journeys home, spreading delicate tassels of color all over the place. The heavy traffic with numerous vehicles, sparkling clean after a visit under the natural car wash, their headlights and traffic lights joined in a color bonanza where triumph and joyexploded. The statues of eminent personalities at city centers,  now sparkling after the wash, seemed to nod in unison as they enjoyed the pleasure of seeing the freshly cleaned tree-tops and leaves laden with magical diamond droplets. The sweet rain also touched the temple tops and other marvelous monuments where people thronged, in spite of the confetti of rain. To me, the temple-goers seemed to be messengers of God, praying for our beloved Kathmandu Valley and ringing those bells for peace to return.

 The variations of the downpour continued through out the day and I couldn’t help noticing a sense of cheerfulness, anticipation, wonder, blissfulness and rush, feelings of life of excess in the city dwellers’ life.   As the day came to an end, the holy tender rain also decided to take permanent exile, at least for a few months.  He left us with the heavenly smell of the wet earth, fresh air, lifting waves of dust from the dusty roads, soothing lullabies of the rainfall, washing us of yesterday’s charades, reminding us of brighter tomorrows, of making peace, of reforming for good. While Kishor sensed music play on his soul, I wrote music for the rain in my heart. On this one rainy day, Kathmandu blossomed in a colorful tide of new life, maybe because it is primed for good things to unfold.

 Mellow Mr. Rain, Mystique Mr. Rain, Marvelous Mr. Rain, come again another day!

Granddad...

दृष्टिकोण»

चौतारी: किरात विभूति इमानसिंह

चन्द्रकुमार सेर्मा लिम्बू

पुस १९ -
भाषा, विशेषज्ञ, इतिहासकार इमानसिंह चेम्जोङको जन्म वि.सं. १९६१ पौष १७ गते कालीम्पोङको रिन्केबुङ वस्तीमा भएको हो । उनका बंशज पल्लो किरात लिम्बूवान पान्थर आङसराङबाट भारत कालिम्पोङ गएका थिए । आमा दावपुहाङमा ईश्वरीय भक्ति, आध्यात्मिक चिन्तनकी ज्ञानी, धार्मिक प्रकृतिकी हुनाले  उनि आध्यात्मिक प्रेरणाकी श्रोत बनिन । पढलेख गर्न आर्थिक श्रोत साधन र व्यवहारीक अवस्थाको राम्रो प्रबन्ध भएकोले वाल्य जीवन स्थिती अनुकूल बन्यो । उनलाई बाबु-बाजेहरूबाट किरातलिपी र भाषाको ज्ञान पनि मिल्यो । उनले किरात याक्थुङबा लिम्बूहरूको सुनौलो इतिहास सुरूवात गरे । सन् १९२५ जुलाइ २६ का दिन सर्दार मैतसिं थेगीमको घरमा एउटा सभा बोलाई उपस्थितहरूलाई किरात अक्षर र भाषा पढाउने उद्देश्यले प्रेरित गरे । इमानसिंले प्राचीन किरात अक्षरको पुस्तक देखाउदा सबै जना आफ्नो भाषाको पुस्तक र लिपी हेर्न पाएर हर्षले गदगद भए ।

सबैले यो भाषा हाम्रो हो, हामीले हाम्रोपन बुझ्यौं, किरातीहरूले किराती भाषा र अक्षर पढ्नु पर्छ । यो हाम्रो लागि गौरवको कुरा हो भनि एकता प्रदर्शन गरे । यसरी सर्वसम्मतिबाट "याक्थुङहाङचुम्लुङ" भन्ने नाम राखी इमानसिंले नै किरात आन्दोलन कालीम्पोङबाट शंखनाद गरे ।

उनले याक्थुङहाङ चुम्लुङको गतिविधिलाई सिक्किम, भुटान, आसाम, कोइटा, देहरादुन, पञ्जाब, धर्मसाला, कलकत्ता र वर्मा तथा सिंगापुरसम्म फैलाए । उनले सिक्किमका पश्चिम किरात गाउाघरमा भ्रमणगरी प्रचारप्रसार गरेको कुराको राम्रो सन्देश नेपालको पल्लो किरात लिम्बूवानमा पर्यो ।  ठूला बडा धेरै लिम्बूहरूको अनुरोधमा सिक्किम छोडी उनि सन १९५२ मा लिम्बूवान प्रदेश आए ।  प्रचारप्रसार गर्दै "पल्लो किरात लिम्बूवान" को सभापति हुन पुगे । यसको प्रतिनिधित्व गदैै उनी सन् १९५३ मा श्री ५ त्रिभुवनसाग दर्शन भेट गर्न काठमाडौं पुगे । यस क्रममा उनले वि.सं. २०१३ र २०१४ सालमा लिम्बूवानको माग राखी तत्कालीन राजा र श्री ५ को सरकारलाई घचघच्याउने काम गरेका थिए । २०१५ सालको आम निर्वाचनमा संसद् सदस्यमा स्वतन्त्र उम्मेदवार बनेर पराजित भएका उनि सन् १९६१ देखि त्रि.वि.वि.मा किरात भाषा र संस्कृतिको विशेषज्ञ प्रोफेसरको रूपमा करार सेवा नियूक्त भए । पछि सिनासमा रहेर उनले १५ वर्ष सेवा गरे । श्रावण महिनामा करार सेवा सालिन्दा नविकरण हुनेगरिे दुरअवस्थामा काम गर्नु उनका लागि निश्चितरूपमा दुःखदायि थियो ।

उनले किरातको वेद किरातको मुन्धुम नेपाली किराती भाषामा सन् १९३१, किरात इतिहास सन् १९४८, किरात साहित्यको इतिहास सन् १९५५, किरात दन्त्यकथा सन् १९६१, लिम्बू, नेपाली, अंग्रेजी शब्दकोश सन् १९६१, किरात मुन्धुम खाहुन सन् १९६५, याक्थङ चुक्मुक साम्जिक मुन्धुम -किरात दर्शन) सन् १९६९, लाप्चे, नेपाली, अंग्रेजी शब्दकोश सन् १९७४, किरातकाली विजयपुरको इतिहास सन १९७४, किरात व्याकरण सन १९७४, किरात प्रथम वर्णमाला भाग-१, भाग-२ आदि कृतिहरू पनि प्रकाशित गरेका छन ।

आधा सताब्दी भन्दा लामो समय किरात भाषा, लिपि, साहित्य, संस्कृति, र इतिहास विषयमा खोज अनुसन्धान गरि उनले सुन्यबाट थालनि गरेको  आन्दोलनले आज एउटा गरिमामय परिचय पाएको छ ।  आज ति दार्शनिक र महामानवको महानताको उच्चाइ र गहिराइ विश्लेषण गर्नुपर्दा आश्चर्य लाग्छ । प्राचिन मुन्धुमलाई "माङसाप्ला" नामाकरण गर्ने ति अद्वितीय प्रतिभाका सर्जकले कसरी कसको सहायतले किरात अक्षर सिक्न र लेख्न तथा यसलाई हिज्जेमा परिणत गर्न सके ।

किरातको वेद, किरातको मुन्धुम नलेखिदिएको भए सिंगो किरात धर्म दर्शनको पूर्वाधारनै बन्ने थिएन । उनको जिवनी लिम्बू कक्षामा कक्षागत पढाइ हुन्छ । उनको तस्विर चित्राङ्कीत हुलाक टिकट प्रकाशनगरि नेपाल सरकारले राष्ट्रिय प्रतिभाकोरूपमा मान्यता दिएको छ । जनजाति स्तरबाट विभिन्न ठाउामा मूर्ति बनाई बाटो, स्कूलमा राखिएको छ । उनका कृतिहरूलाई अंग्रेजी, नेपाली र लिम्बू भाषामा अनुवादगरि राष्ट्रिय अन्तराष्ट्रिय स्तरमा प्रचार गर्न नसकि रहेको अवस्था छ । त्रि.वि.वि.मा कार्यरत रहदै हृदय रोगले चाप्दै गएको उनको उपचाररत अवस्थामा  २०३३ सालमा निधन भयो । तर हाम्रा मनमा इमानसिं चेम्जोङ- आज पनि अमर छन ।

प्रकाशित मिति: २०६७ पुस २५ ०९:२०

Mom

VOW-December 2010

Making a difference

Indu Mani Chemjong,
Principal, Sainik Awasiya Mahavidyalaya

At the time of her birth, her father was reading “Glimpses of World History” written to Indira Gandhi by Jawaharlal Nehru. Thus he decided to name their first daughter, “Indu” as it was Indira Gandhi’s pet name. His prayer to God was, “Let my little angel be a kind-hearted yet a capable human being.” Sixty-two years down the road, it feels like that prayer has been answered. As I talk to Indu Mani Chemjong, Principal of the Army School seated under a tree at her quarters in Bhaktapur over a cup of tea, she tells me all about her three-decade plus years of journey as an educator.

“I know it’s hectic and challenging, but I have always loved being an educator. I believe everyone should love what they are doing,” Indu beams. For somebody who’s dedicated more than three decades of her life to teaching, Indu is as enthusiastic about contributing to the education system in Nepal. “By a better education system, I not only mean students passing with better grades; I want to see that the students are taught to be morally aware, more conscientious and socially responsible,” she elaborates.

“My dad was a Major in the British Army, and I spent portions of my childhood in Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore and wherever my dad got posted. Then my parents, who were really liberal in their beliefs and actions, thought it would be sensible to have me admitted into a boarding school in India,” Indu recalls, “Living and studying among friends was a lot of fun. It wasn’t really difficult for me to adjust because I was used to adapting to new environments.” The eldest among four sisters, Indu credits much of what she is today to the constant encouragement from her parents and the education she received in India. “We had some Scottish nuns who not only gave us academic education but also understood and fulfilled our emotional needs, keeping in mind the fact that we were away from our families,” she says.

Highly inspired by Indira Gandhi during her student life, Indu did her post graduation in Political Science. She wanted to become a leader, even though she wasn’t decided on which sector she would specialise in. “The Gurkhas in India were fighting for the inclusion of the Nepali language in the Indian Constitution, so I thought may be I should join the Public Service Commission and try to bring some changes, but it seems God had a different plan for me. Marriage happened and I came to Nepal,” she shares. ”And then the course of my life took a wonderful turn,” she muses.

Indu was 26 when she got married. “Ours was a classic combination of a love cum arranged marriage. Mohan was a young captain in Nepal Army when we tied the knot. He has retired as a Brigadier now. The fact that I would be marrying Iman Singh Chemjong, the Kirat historian and scholar’s son was something my family took pride in and they immediately said yes,” she informs. However, having grown up in an environment where men and women were treated equally, Indu was shocked to see so many demarcations between the world of men and women in Nepal. “I had to attend parties where men and women had separate groups. The two sexes didn’t mingle with one another. It’s funny but those were the days when even the King and Queen didn’t walk together… she always quietly followed while he walked ahead,” she recalls.

Two years into marriage, Indu gave birth to her first child, a daughter. Indu says that motherhood taught her the precious lessons of selflessness. “The whole process of transforming into a ‘mother’ is a very spiritual journey. You feel so empowered, so special... and at the same time you can gift such a special present to your husband! It’s priceless. When I was in labour before my first delivery, my husband was all set to fly to Lebanon on a UN peace-keeping mission. He waited and waited for our daughter to be born outside the hospital room so that he could at least have a glimpse of our first child, but my labour lasted very long and he had to leave,” she recalls. “He left in tears and could see our daughter only after six months!” Indu adds, “Marriage to Mohan has been a wonderful journey. He is my biggest inspiration and we are the best of friends. I owe my success, happiness and beautiful family to General Saab,” she smiles.

In the meantime, Indu decided to start teaching. “I started teaching at St Xavier’s School and continued for many years,” she informs. She taught at the primary level and as her students got promoted to higher classes, so did she. It wasn’t long before Indu started teaching Grade 10 students. After a few years, though, she felt a void. “I could see that lot of children at St Xavier’s came from elite families, mostly from Kathmandu and she wondered what it would be like to teach children from different backgrounds. I wanted to meet and teach children from different parts of the country,” she shares. Considering the suggestion of a friend, Indu joined Budhanilkantha School where she would get the opportunity to teach students from all corners of Nepal. She was surprised and excited at seeing the diversity of students at Budhanilkantha—she was even tutoring Prince Nirajan. “Nirajan was very shy but very lovable. He was a very good person,” she recollects.

Indu says that her stint at Budhanil-kantha enabled her to understand how students beyond their academics and as young growing adults also had to learn to handle their emotions. During these years, she came to understand that more could be done for her students’ emotional well-being. She wanted to help, “I decided then that I should do something to fill that void in their hearts.” Thus, with a short counselling training, Indu started providing counselling to the students with the help of her American colleague. Later, when she felt the need to earn a qualification to be a professional counsellor, she earned a postgraduate degree in Psycho-social Counselling from Vellore, India. Indu strongly feels that the youth today need someone with “patient and trustworthy ears” to listen to their feelings which they can’t easily share with their parents or even friends. “The world today is very complicated and often very confusing. The youth definitely need someone to share their dilemma, to reaffirm that there’s someone they can really trust. This is where a counsellor comes in,” says the veteran teacher. After a stint of four years at Budhanilkantha, Indu returned to St Xavier’s on a special request, this time to teach students at the higher secondary level.

Thereafter, Indu continued her journey as an educator, counsellor and principal in different schools and colleges in Kathmandu. She has been working as the Principal at Sainik Awasiya Mahavidyalaya for the last five years. In the meantime, she has also not given up opportunities to grow as an individual and explore her inner potential. With many different accolades, two undergraduate and three postgraduate qualifications under her belt, Indu loves learning and one day, wants to follow her daughter’s footsteps and do an MBA degree. “I was an active member of the Army Officer Wife’s Association wherein we worked for the welfare of the army personnel’s wives especially those who have lost their husbands during the decade-long conflict. We gave them various trainings and offered them counselling on different matters,” she says. Social services apart, Indu also designates time for herself and her family, playing Sitar to give solace to her mind, and spending time with her husband and two daughters, Moheindu and Lalima. She also happily shares how she loves to watch films starring Shahrukh Khan, and how eagerly she’s waiting to book her tickets to watch Prashant Tamang’s Gorkha Paltan.

“I thank God everyday for his blessings,” she beams, “I am very positive and I feel wonderful that I live in my motherland and got this opportunity to touch the lives of many young Nepalis who really are the pillars of tomorrow.”

– Poonam Maharjan