By Richa Neupane
A Cindrella story of one road’s journey from dust to pitch.

The Bagmati River Photo: Richa Neupane
I go to work through a route that winds along the foul-smelling Bagmati River, synonymous with Kathmandu’s trash bin. The road was constructed by the locals a few years back on a low budget. It is about ten meters wide dotted with potholes and stray cows. And its road-sides are dusty and filled with squatters. Yet, this road despite the foul smell and all that is more bearable than the sluggishness of the main route infested with perpetual traffic jams. Besides, even on the main route, one is bound to get stuck on top of the Bagmati bridge for at least ten minutes.
This alternate road seems to save everyone’s day. Even that of the Prime Minister!
The other day, for the third time this month, instead of bothering to clear up the little congested main road so that his ride can be smooth, the PM followed our route on the way to his Party’s office. A very good idea and a thoughtful one at that! Travelers back at the main road could at least continue their pace without attending to the signals of the security parading around him.

Maintenance in full swing, while the passers-by look on. Photo: Richa Neupane
What is appallingly apparent though is that now that the PM has begun to use this road, lo and behold, it is being renovated! Its narrow stretches are being widened. The dusty road-side is being cleaned. The wandering cows are being chased away. And the potholes are being covered. Perhaps the municipal people do not want these potholes to jolt the glasses off the PM’s nose while he peruses the budget proposal. Well, while they are at it, they might as well get rid of the squatters and clean up the river.
This is how ‘development’ occurs in my country. If I want a road, I have to wait for a VIP to want it first. If I want a constant flow of running water or 24 hours of electricity, I have to live where the dignitaries do. The only problem, I, like many, cannot afford to live near them. And what about the rural villages where the (nominal) state aid vanishes before it reaches them? They better start praying that (at the least) the next member of the Parliament is from their own.



Kathmandu is half way between Delhi and Calcutta, and less than half way between Delhi and Dhaka. On this track, the Himalaya is seen as a faraway line of snow mountains. It is when you fly into Kathmandu or Paro airports that you dip into the mountains themselves, and the individual peaks loom large..jpg)
