Oped»
Plotters on the prowl
- DATELINE CHANGU NARAYAN
JUN 01 -
Changu hill, 20 km from the city centre, is one of my favourite getaways. There, the ancient and magnificent temple of Changu Narayan, north of Bhaktapur, wears a spanking new look, thanks to recent renovation efforts. A hike up the hill, at an elevation of 2,000 m, can be refreshing and stimulating both physically and spiritually. And it can be visually rewarding too: The hilltop surrounded by pine trees and lush green vegetation offers bird’s-eye views of the towns of Bhaktapur, Madhyapur and Kathmandu in addition to the cultural and natural vistas that the outskirts of Kathmandu boast.
They include the Manohara River flowing through green fields, the villages of Sundarijal, Danchi, Indrayani and Sankhu to the north, Jhaukhel and Dubakot to the south and the hills and mountains around the unique valley that, experts say, was formed after the paleo-lake waters drained away around 55 million years ago. If the paleo-lake wasn’t drained by Manjushree or Vishnu, recent researches suggest it drained away naturally — thanks to the natural processes of sedimentation and erosion. And from the ancient lakebed rises the towering Changu hill.
Love at first sight
Thanks to its uniqueness, I fell in love with Changu hill when I was a little kid. And I am still in love with the hill and its rustic and medieval-looking surroundings. Another reason I am proud of it is that it’s a UNESCO World Heritage property, just like several other monument zones in the valley. As time passed by, a tinge of modernisation can be seen, heard and felt in the area — new restaurants and resorts have sprung up, noisy motorcycles and cars zoom along the newly-built yet poor dirt roads, and the local farmers flash cell phones as they go about their daily chores.
That may sound like the valley’s newfound economic might. But soon after the sun sets behind the Chandragiri hills on the western horizon, the capital city impresses none as it looks pitch dark with few lights blinking. Then I realise how crippling the power crisis can be, how melancholic the resultant darkness can be. Is the fun and sense of well-being that a trip to the hill offers just too temporary?
I disagree. Because the darkness of the night always gives way to a new dawn, a much brighter tomorrow. And I bet the on foot climb either via Gokarna or Indrayani en route to Sankhu can be as rejuvenating as it is enlightening — so long as one can experience it, feel it and grab it after going round and round the fourth-century temple of Lord Vishnu, established by Haridutta Verma, and later rebuilt by Lichchhavi king Manadeva. The temple vicinity boasts a lot of ancient wood and stone carving wonders, some of them among the finest works of art the nation can showcase.
Concerns
Gone are the days when fly-by-night thieves targeted the valuable artefacts. Today, in the face of modernisation and massive urbanisation of the capital valley, there are fresh — and genuine — concerns. Many locals are worried that recent land-use changes seen in the Bhaktapur-Manohara belt could take a toll on Changu hill, and that they could pose a serious threat to the long-term conservation of Changu Narayan.
Here’s why. As you go around Changu Narayan hill, you can see fields rapidly turning into housing plots, rolling hills being pulled down to make way for, again, housing plots, and pristine meadows being destroyed to construct roads that could link the villages — both old and new. What’s really disturbing is that all the so-called “development activities” are being carried out without any long-term vision, planning or engineering whatsoever.
“Who cares about this old temple or this hill?” says Mahila Shrestha, 66, a local farmer. “Who cares about tomorrow, who cares about the future of our children? Nobody. All that people care about now-a-days is money. Everybody is running after money.” That may be the reason why most of the farmers in the area have turned into former farmers, their pieces of land gone.
And they are getting rich, too, Shrestha adds, “People are selling away their farm lands and even slopes as if there’s no tomorrow.” There are as many givers as there are takers. So massive has the housing plotting boom been that plots are being developed even on slopes, ravines and river banks — posing newer challenges to Kathmandu’s earthquake preparedness. On the surface, though, the plots look all right and will likely entrap prospective buyers looking for a space in the already crammed valley. That will surely put more pressure on the valley’s rapidly depleting natural resources.
Missing actions
A close observation from the Changu hilltop shows that plotters are indeed on the prowl, and are out to plot every single piece of land that’s plottable. Until recently, things were different, though. Not so long ago, planners had laid out visions to sustainably develop the Kathmandu Valley and scientifically plan its residential areas, its expressways, if any, including its not-so-express ways and alleyways. But as the country descends into further chaos — thanks to self-centred politicians who, recent experience shows, are extremely good at plotting — all those dreams appear to have dissipated. Or the visions are gathering dust and bugs in the unimpressive government office shelves.
As that happens, the truth is this: Taking advantage of the country’s fluid political situation, plotters are on the prowl — not just in the valley but in other towns and suburbs around the country. At Changu, an elderly lady summed up her observations thus, “It’s Kali Yuga, babu, the earth is filled with sin…” She added, “If the trend is not checked, along with the valley, this hill will also give way. And when that happens, will we survive? Will this civilisation survive?” I, for one, don’t know much.
(The author is a BBC Nepali correspondent)
Surendra Phuyal
nepal.surendra@gmail.com
Posted on: 2010-06-02 08:58
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