Taking A Stroll Down Memory Lane

 

Yuba Nath Lamsal

 

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep”
—Robert Frost
This is how American poet Robert Frost has described life as a journey. Life is truly a journey and we are all fellow travellers.
The 27 years of association with The Rising Nepal was a precious part of my life's long journey, which is both bumpy and exciting. In this part of the journey, there are thousands of incidents that go deep down in memory lane. However, a few of them are so momentous that they always keep on chasing in my mind.

Adieu to a man of principle
That was the sombre night of April 26, 1999. Piercing through the serenity of darkness, an unusual mid-night call woke me up. That was the age of landline telephones as cellular phones were not available in Nepal. Half-awakened and a little scared, I rushed to the next room to attend the call anticipating something unusual and bizarre. The voice from the other end was just brief and short: "Man Mohan Adhikari is no more." He then hung up without elaborating.

This made me fully awakened but was still confused not being able to believe my ears. I looked around within and outside. The clock was ticking at 01: 30. I checked with other people and the information turned out to be true. The senior communist leader and first communist prime minister of Nepal had, indeed, passed away at the age of 78.
It had been a foregone conclusion that he would not live long as he had already gone into a coma after a severe cardiac arrest a few days ago during an election campaign in Kathmandu as a candidate as well as the chairperson of the CPN-UML.

Now duty beckoned. I immediately called the office, there was none to respond, which was natural at almost wee hours. Then I called editor-in-chief Gyan Bahadur Rai and told him that this should be covered. "You are right Lamsal babu but how", the editor said. "Don't worry I will manage" was my answer.

Then I immediately rushed to the office. First, I asked to 'stop the press'. But colleagues in the printing department did not buzz and the chief editor had to intervene. By the time I finished the story, it was almost 4:30 and editor Rai also turned up. He got the front page layout of the paper changed. The news finally got printed with a banner headline. I heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was only The Rising Nepal that covered the news that morning and later around 8 am the Nepali language daily, too, came out with an extra edition covering Adhikari's demise. Even our sister publication Gorkhapatra missed it. But none of the hakims (seniors in the Gorkhapatra Corporation) bothered to extend a word of appreciation.

The Gorkha quake
The clock was about to strike 11. Dogs howled and people shirked as the earth's surface started spinning. I felt as though the house was going to tumble down. Panicked, my wife hurried to the staircase to go out but I stood still clutching the wooden frame of the door. I felt as though time stood still and those 56 minutes were the longest waiting time in my life. In a moment, a roaring bang came with dust-filled up in the atmosphere as though the final day of judgement had come. It was the earthquake on the 7.1 Richter scale.

Soon the mayhem receded. We moved out of the house and found all people in my vicinity huddled in the open field—some crying, some praying and some in the state of utmost despair. I could see the tallest building in the vicinity had collapsed, killing several people inside. Telephones were dead and all channels of communication were disrupted. Someone told me Kathmandu's key landmark Dharahara crumbled and several heritages of Kathmandu perished.
Humans were so vulnerable before nature, despite the claim that man conquered the universe. Nobody was sure what was going to happen next as the earth continued to tremble. Everyone seemed to be at the mercy of nature.

All modes of transportation and communication were not operational and Kathmandu had virtually come to standstill. Nepal was in a way cut off from the rest of the world. Nature had unleashed its terror.
It was a tough time but humans had to be tougher. Being in the cockpit of the Rising Nepal, you have responsibility. I had to report to the office come what may because the paper must come out the next morning. Duty is cruel and begs sacrifice.

The distance between home at Kapan and office in Bhugol Park is about 6 kilometres. I would otherwise not dare but I had no other option but walk to reach the office. I walked along the road spattered with the debris of ruined strictures at different points. I finally reached the office aghast.

Occasional tremors of aftereffects continued. Fear had reigned within me but I pretended not to have been scared and tried to lift the courage and confidence of colleagues in the office. Most of the colleagues discharged their duty despite the tough time of the earthquake. Bijaya Lal Shrestha deserves special mention as he was available for duty anytime during those difficult times of the earthquake since he lived quite close to the office. Young reporter Pallav Bhusal was a terrific guy who did not miss even a single day and was always ready for duty. Pallav even drove me home in the evening on his motorbike. Office secretary Pususottam Baskota, too, displayed his devotion to duty during those difficult days. While most of the colleagues discharged their duty so well during that tough time, only one senior guy never turned up in the office for more than a week.

Handing Over the Torch
Everything is destined. A time has come for everyone and everything. As my departure from The Rising Nepal was due, Bijaya Lal Shrestha was the natural successor as he was the senior-most. But the moves were afoot from certain quarters not to let Bijaya take the reign of the TRN and bring in someone junior and less competent to that position. However, then Minister for Communication Surendra Karki did not buzz at the pressure and he instructed the Gorkhapatra Corporation management to appoint the senior, competent and professional one as the editor of the paper. This is how I handed over the torch to Bijaya Lal Shrestha, which he deserved.

Dec 16, 2021