Nepal tries to get on with life
By Dubby Bhagat
KATHMANDU: A British journalist in a Kathmandu watering-hole said, "So
Prince Charles says to his mother, `Right, if you and the family aren't
going to accept Camilla, why don't all of you come to dinner this Friday
night'?"
According to modern psychology, the mind copes with tragedy by going through
four stages to achieve closure, or catharsis. First is denial: "No, it
couldn't have happened as it did." Then comes acceptance. "It did happen,
unimaginable though it is." Followed by understanding: "So, that is how it
happened and why it happened." Closure, comes finally: "It's finished, now
let's get on with the business of living."
The final stage is usually marked by black, gallows' humour common to
policemen, doctors or journalists who deal with tragedy continually. After
the Princess Di tragedy, a macabre joke doing the rounds was: "Dodi used
Head and Shoulders, because they found his in the dashboard of the car."
Sick, but how else does the world cope?
Nepal is at the acceptance stage of the massacre while the world at large
has reached closure.
Eight-year-old Duksangh would not be amused with palace jokes. After her
first day of school following the events of June 1 in the royal palace, she
said at home, "When he was small, Prince Dipendra was naughty, but we are
all naughty." Her peers and she discussed nothing else between classes and
arrived at the conclusion: "Everyone says the other prince wore Dipendra's
clothes and a mask and shot everyone. He shot Dipendra later."
Duksangh and her friends in Class III are somewhere between denial and
acceptance. Earlier, Duksangh watched Birendra's funeral on television and
recorded in her journal that she is asked to keep: "Everyone and God cried
for the king. I know God cried because it rained. I cried too."
Far from the safety of her school, the Maoists seek closure of a different
kind. Comrade Prachanda announced that the program of the People's War had
to be brought forward by three years. And that an attack on a prominent
target was imminent. The Maoists have announced that the late king Birendra
was sympathetic to them, and so deserved respect.
According to informed rumours, the Maoists have infiltrated Bhakthapur and
Godavari, both less policed than most other places in the valley. Dates of
the attack vary, starting with the last day of mourning, which would mean
anytime after Wednesday. Another date is Friday, when the official
commission's report is delivered, or Sunday when it is to be announced.
Whatever the date, or the outcome, the new tragedy will see a closure on the
one that led to it, before the scars are fully healed. And then the circle
of denial, acceptance, understanding and closure will begin again for
Duksangh and the nation as a whole. Hopefully, for the last time.
But one more thing has to be lived with: Tragedy sells. Nepal is no stranger
to the commerce of catastrophe. John Kauker's international bestseller Into
Thin Air, which describes a real-life ill-fated Everest expedition, was
turned into a hugely successful movie by Imax, with Jamling Tenzin, son of
the late mountaineering hero Tenzing Norgay, acting as anchorman.
Global audiences ducked murderous avalanches on the big screen, complete
with terrifying sound effects. After such negative publicity, Nepal expected
a nosedive in adventure tourism. But the queues to Everest base camp were
longer than ever before.
One wonders how the Nepalese will cope in coming times with the morbid
curiosity that has tourists asking guides and hoteliers, "Tell us what
happened?"
>From what one knows of Nepal, there will be the hospitable smile, the polite
answer, covering a deep, personal sense of loss. Then it will be back to
business, perhaps even more than usual. A ringing cash register is the final
closure.
For reprint rights:Times Syndication Service