What the Park!

By Edwin Koo

25 May, 2010

“You know what ‘Bhugol’ Park means?” asked my newfound Nepali friend.

“Yeah, its Planet Park right? That’s a globe up there isn’t it?” I said.

“You know why they called it Bhugol Park then?” he pursued.

Got me there. I don’t. The rows and rows of Devanagari script were like ants crawling up and down the monolith. I don’t think many Nepalis even know the significance of this park. In the first place, I don’t think many people knew it is a park.

“This was built to commemorate the rebuilding efforts after the Great Nepal Bihar earthquake. Many people contributed money to rebuild the city and all their receipts are buried here!” declared my enthusiastic friend. He was referring to the most recent and devastating earthquake in Nepal, a 8.4 shocker that killed more than 8,000 people and leveled more than 120,000 buildings, back in 1934 AD. That was a lot of damage, considering the fact that Nepal back in those days didn’t many people and buildings.

But the park’s historical significance was soon lost, as Kathmandu saw wave after wave of urban migrants, who started to claim the park as their own – annexing the park with illegal shacks, public toilets, and litter dumps. Coupled with administrative negligence, the park was allowed to fester, until youth groups came along to reclaim it. My chest-thumping friend was all too eager to relate how they chased away the squatters, cleaned up the park and obtained official permission from the authorities to “take care” of the park.

Today, the park is fenced up, gated, and open only 2 hours in the morning for the public to “take in fresh air”. It was a welcome oasis from the frenetic pace of New Road, a perfect location for a picnic, and of course, for an outdoor exhibition.

The second leg of our exhibition – “Bahini: Life of My Sisters“- was officially open last Saturday, and the turnout was surprising. I suspect the “free admission” had a part to play, but the location was just perfect.

Of all the visitors I talked to, all of them had visited the show “by chance”. Some of them had known about the first leg in the papers, but that was in Nepal Arts Council – a gallery – and it wasn’t exactly the most convenient of locations. So, it was a pleasant surprise that many of those who couldn’t make the gallery, or those who simply weren’t the gallery-going types, managed to catch our exhibition in its “photo-cum-installation art” avatar. Yes, the summer heat is punishing, the temperamental rain showers are annoying, and the glare reflecting off our photo frames – irritatingly distracting. But there was something “organic” about the feel of the exhibition.

Our pictures aimed to show how Nepali girls struggle against their environment to go to school. Our “little sisters”, or bahini, were up against problems such as prejudice, poverty and parental negligence, and yet, their yearning for better lives through education shone through. Bhugol Park resonates that kind of spirit – a ground-up resilience that fought off filth, rot and decay. So it was a perfect fit, albeit unintentional, that the pictures sprung up from the grassy lawns, like blooming flowers after the long harsh winter.

Kathmandu is decaying, many are saying. They are dead right – a city of one million – without proper sewage, waste management, urban zoning, migration control, pollution control measures, water supply, and nary a decent park – is heading down the dumps, literally. The Economist recently ranked it the 8th worst city in the world, following closely behind the likes of Karachi, Kabul, and Mogadishu. Kathmanduites didn’t know what to think of it – those who live here and have been abroad know that the ranking is not unfair, but really, ke garne? (what to do?)

What Kathmandu needs is more Bhugol Parks, and more people who really care about the place they live in. And hopefully it doesn’t take another mega-earthquake to jolt the society into action.

An oasis tucked quietly beside the frenetic New Road in Kathmandu.