Peace and Quiet

I realized something very interesting about Kathmandu this past week. I always assumed that the reason why Kathmandu was so loud was because I am only out during the busy hours. But this past Tuesday I realized that even in the early morning there is no peace or serenity. * If you are not an animal person skip the next few sentences cause you won’t care* Early Tuesday I received a phone call from my mom, after a few minutes of small talk, she told me that we needed to put down our dog, Katie. She was fourteen and old age had finally caught up with her. Those who know my family and I know that this is a like losing a part of the family, so after hanging up I decided I needed a nice head clearing walk. So off I went, and the two-minute walk to the top of the lane was nice, but then as I almost got hit by a motorbike barreling past a man yelling at a barking dog, I remembered I lived in Kathmandu, and that doesn’t happen. But I would not let this deter my mission for peace and quiet. So I took a deep breath, and began coughing and gagging, on exhaust of the bus that I had not seen driving by. Still, I was determined and continued on past the butcher laying out the goats head, the mechanics pouring exhaust from the motorbikes they work on, and the many taxis slowing down and honking at the bidashi. As I walked things seemed to get louder, so I quickly turned down a side street, the usual eye in the storm of the city. Alas, Peace...until I see the school children on their way to class. So I make a loop through the shouts about exams, and SLC’s. As I turn up the side street to the main road, I realize I have entered the land of dogs. It seems that the starting point for the millions of dogs, is this road, and as I walk down I am followed by many furry friends, some rubbing against my legs, others nuzzling my hand. I want to run, but then I realize this is my neighborhood and I don’t want people to pass me and say “There’s that crazy bidashi who runs from dogs crying.” So I smiled at all the Didi’s pushing their veggie carts, using the filler word Lah to explain why I suddenly was the St. Francis of dogs. Once back on the main street, I found myself among the early celebrators of Krishna’s birthday. There were bells ringing and women dressed in red and pink surrounding me, wondering who was the crazy in the bright blue raincoat among them. Krishna is a Hindu god that it is believed all Hindu women are married to, so on his birthday they must place an offering at one of his shrines, which happens to be down the road from us. While I enjoyed watching for a bit, the ringing and shouting was not the peace I craved. So I began my defeated walk home, but alas as I walked up the stairs to our apartment, I remembered our rooftop. As I reached the roof, I could hear the distant horns and shouts, but they were drowned out by the view of the mountains around me. So I sat down and began to enjoy my peace, and then it began to rain. At this point I refused to let this get in the way, so I sat there in the rain not caring what the Didi’s rushing onto the roofs around me to grab laundry thought of the bidashi sitting in the pouring rain. So what the hell is the point of this story? Well just that maybe that is why Kathmandu is such a crazy place, because there is no peace and quiet, even at night there is the loud barking and cars racing on somewhat deserted roads. So how do people think? Especially those who can’t make it out to the villages where the noise is less? It honestly can drive a person crazy. So maybe if we all had a little more peace in our lives here, things like the Maoists or democracy, republic, monarchy would be less volatile. You could sit down and really think about the issues. And maybe it is all a little idealistic on my part, and I’ve had my first cup of coffee in a month so I’m wired and thoughts are everywhere, but I really do believe that a little peace quiet and meditation can go a long way. And here in Kathmandu, that is, as I discovered, very hard to find.