Good night, and good luck
SEP 07 -
Outside the Bir Hospital, although past nine o’clock, the night is young. Light pools outside pharmacies as people pass in and out intermittently. This is a hospital area and there is no sleep for doctors, nurses and family members anxiously awaiting news of their kin. But despite the trepidation in the air, there is something playful in the way the baleful gaze of the yellow streetlights reflects off of puddles of water accumulating on the roads from the afternoon downpour. Taxis queue up, some drivers sleep, others drink tea, chat or haggle with passengers. Tea shops and canteens cater to the nervous, the bleary-eyed and the anxious. Young people, drunk and stumbling, often stop by for a late night snack before they head home. In contrast to their raucous cries and drunken foibles, there are others more somber, quietly sipping tea, maybe trying not to think. On the other side, night buses line up, waiting for passengers. Horns beep and signs saying ‘Ratri Sewa’ adorn the front and back of the buses, blinking madly in the dark. On a bus to Kalanki, passengers wear broad smiles. Two policemen lounge on the first seat while a CCTV camera fixes its gaze on everyone entering and leaving. 18-year old conductor Sunil Thapa Magar, originally from Hetuda, is actively and energetically calling out destinations and beckoning people. At Tripureshwor, four young students get into the bus, returning from a night at a local Dohori place. Bikash Tamang, a 25-year old taxi driver, waiting patiently at Kalanki chowk for passengers. “Buses don’t reach every nook and corner of the city like taxis do,” he says, not at all threatened by the night bus service. Even here, a few eateries are open, providing comfort food for travelers coming in late from outside the Valley. Sabita Koirala, a 45-year old street vendor, rummages from among an eclectic selection of cigarettes, biscuits, water and junk food on her nanglo. “You know, the night bus has made my business better, but if the police see me, they will seize my goods so I have to be careful,” she says cautiously, looking around.
On the ride back to Bir Hospital, more passengers get on. Among them is Surya Tiwari, a teacher at the Parbat Secondary School in Thamel, returning home after a bhet-ghat with friends. He raises concerns about the night bus service’s longevity. “I wonder how long this bus is going to run,” he muses out loud. Although happy that he was able to catch a bus this late, he wonders if the number of passengers is enough to sustain the service and turn a profit. The passengers are mostly men, but now and then, a woman will board, oftentimes with her husband or male family member. Mina Aryal rides with her husband and says, “I feel safe and comfortable. Where previously I would have to pay upwards of Rs 500 to get to Baneshwor, now I can get there in Rs 30, even after changing buses at Ratnapark.”
The bus will make a last few runs before shutting down for the night. It has been a long day and everyone is tired. Policeman Deepak Thapa yawns widely and struggles to stay alert. “Most of the people on the night bus are drunk but they don’t cause trouble or create problems,” he says. Maybe the presence of armed, uniformed policemen dissuades these drunks from misbehaviour, or maybe it is the CCTV’s cold mechanical gaze. But it is late for Kathmandu.
Most of the city is asleep, except for denizens of the night: policemen, prostitutes, the drunks, the homeless and the insomniacs. Good night Kathmandu, and good luck.
Posted on: 2012-09-08 10:19
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She’s an actress....Had approached for acting lessons...they took her in their party!
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