Chhaina, Nepal, Chhaina

If you’ve been to Nepal, one of the words you would have come across is “chhaina”.

The first time I heard that word was at a Maoist rally, so naturally, I thought the Maoist leader was in such awe of Mao’s motherland that he would pepper his speech with “China”.

Days later, I would finally find out the meaning if “chhaina“: “don’t have“.

And that’s exactly the situation Nepal finds itself in after the May 28 deadline for a new constitution:  chhaina. The 600-plus-strong Constitutional Assembly, voted into power by the people of New Nepal, have failed to deliver the deal, two years after they were elected. At 11:43 pm, 17 minutes before the expiration of the term of office, the bickering politicians finally agreed on two things: 1. They disagree on too many things. 2. But what the heck, we will extend the term of the Constitutional Assembly by one year.

International media once again did not hesitate to call it a “political crisis” that could “derail the peace process“. Dire warnings of possible consequences as the midnight approaches filled cyberspace. As top leaders sat through see-saw negotiations from 8am, protesters burned effigies, armed police were put on super-high alert, and a bomb hoax at the main gate of the CA building ended the day of high drama with a masterful stroke.

All in all, it was a historical day.

Or rather, it was supposed to be one, since the world’s newest republic was supposed to get its Constitution – the sacred document representing the people’s will. A true mark of a real democracy.

But it was not to be. Rather than delivering the real deal, it was to be a big wet fart. Still, the powers that be had to shake off the embarrassment by keeping the audiences on the edge of their seats, creating a historical day from an anti-climax, to distract the people from the real issue at hand.

Ironically, the smokescreen wasn’t even necessary. In the streets next to the CA building, hawkers peddled sekuwa (skewered BBQ meats), slippers, clothes, and emergency lights. The sidewalk was choked with pedestrians, as half the road had been cordoned off as a safety buffer. I had called my friend to ask about the news on TV, and his reply was: “Ma ahile bahira.” (I’m out right now). And no, he wasn’t photographing the “historical day”. It was after all, Friday night.

As I patrolled the perimeter of the Birendra International Convention Centre (BICC), where the CA members hold office, I couldn’t help but wonder if the only people who really cared about the consequences of this looming “political crisis” were cadres and journalists.  Beyond the newly-erected concertina wire-fence, two girls were sitting picnic-style on the grass, chatting away outside the walls of the CA.

By 8pm, my photographer friends from the wire agencies had come out of the CA building premises, and started taking pictures of security forces stationed outside the perimeter. When photographers are so bored they start taking generic pictures, you can be quite sure the news today certainly wasn’t so newsworthy.

For all the well-orchestrated high drama, May 28, 2010, would be remembered as a day that CA boys failed to pass up their homework, got another one-year contract to do the same job, and it is the Nepali people who are paying the price.

A day or two before the Nepali New Year, a wall painter had come to our place to give the window frames a new coat of paint. I remembered my landlady’s complaints: “These lazy buggers would never complete the job in a day. They would rather do half the job today, laze around, and come back the next day to finish up.” It befuddled me why someone would take two days to finish a one-day job. Then, my landlady enlightened me.

“Because they’re paid by the day!”

Youth Communist League (YCL) cadres burn an effigy of Prime Minister Madhav Kumar Nepal outside the CA building. Naturally, all the photographers were drawn to this scene, and if taken out of context, paints yet another "chaotic" Nepal picture.

Truckloads of armed police officers were patrolling the perimeter of the CA premises, adding to the air of tension and high drama.

To top it all off, women CA members shout slogans in the assembly hall, protesting against the "possible dissolution" of the Constitutional Assembly.