Casteaway

Any publicity is said to be good publicity, and likewise in a blog, any comment is a welcome one. I thus took this one in with a pinch of salt, ‘Hey, VIKASH PRADHAN.. STOP ACTING>> YOU R NOT A NEPALI>> AND DONT TRY TO ACT LIKE ONE. I was a little bothered initially, but filling in a school admission form proved therapeutic, and I realized that the comment was too trivial to lose sleep over. My nationality is an issue, but the questions of caste and religion that haunt many Nepalis even in this modern age easily overshadow it. <!--more--><br />

I never knew that so much of details was necessary to get a child admitted in Class II:  name, address, height, weight… and even ‘caste’ and religion. I haven’t heard of segregated classes, but the fact that caste and religion featured in the admission, I wonder if it does have some bearing in the performance or treatment meted out to a student? John Lennon’s utopian dream as laid down in Imagine maybe a very distant reality, but when social and religious barriers are finally beginning to breakdown, why and wherefore would a school insist in knowing a child’s caste?

Having grown up in Gangtok, I know how deep communal feelings run, but I consider myself lucky to have never faced any stigma based on the colour of my skin, my race or religion. Over the years I have however gained enough insight on our social structure to genuinely feel for those who have to live with the stigma of being born in a caste deemed inferior by many. During an interview with a prominent lawyer and social activist, Yash Kumar’s <I> Mailey choyeko pani chaldaina…</i> came up as one facet of popular music, that was highlighting social issues and could bring some necessary changes in the future. This particular track, as I heard in Darjeeling, was a huge hit in many areas of Doars and the neighbouring plains. I can only understand why: it maybe no landmark like Ambar Gurung’s <I>Nau lakhey tara</I> but it epitomizes perfectly the plight of the people segregated by, and their status defined by ‘water’. Fresh out of a historic movement that has changed political horizons, many may dream of a ‘New Nepal’, but I guess all those dreams will come to naught if we fail to wash away the barriers of caste and religion from our system, and scratch similar boxes from our forms.

Quite big things for me to utter, but having done that, a return to my nationality: I have never claimed or claim to be Nepali, though I feel as Nepali as I guess Adrian, Feroze or even Nirakar feel when they sing, <i>Yo mann ta mero Nepali ho…</i> Nepal has been very accommodating and I am grateful for many reasons, but I am content being a Gorkha (a reaffirmation of why the Nepali diaspora in India need to insist on the Gorkha label and not ‘Nepali’) and rather happy with my <I>prabasi</I> status unlike many of my peers who are Nepali in the true or the false sense of it. I know many people who are very reluctant to talk about their origins, I would like to distance myself from that lot.

On a positive note, the comment has been a wake up call: a reminder that I may be getting just a bit too Nepali. A call to make amends before <I>ddhoka</I> wipes out <I>dailo</I> and <I>mech</> replaces <I>chauki</I> from my vocabulary.

<b>I’d rather be a sinner than to repent if ‘nationality is my only sin’ </b> – a la Louis Armstrong.


<b>Black and Blue</b>, Louis Armstrong

Cold empty bed springs hurt my headFeels like ole ned wished I was deadWhat did I do to be so black and blueEven the mouse ran from my houseThey laugh at you and all that you doWhat did I do to be so black and blueI'm white inside but, that don't help my caseThat's life can’t hide what is in my faceHow would it end ain't got a friendMy only sin is in my skinWhat did I do to be so black and blueHow would it end I ain't got a friendMy only sin is in my skinWhat did I do to be so black and blue