On the D

Some musical geniuses have geeky secrets.

I may not have understood that if I hadn’t met Jose Feghali. (Read his profile I wrote)

Feghali, winner of the 1985 Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, played last month at Bass Hall. His fingers don’t only promenade the keys of the piano like a runner on the track. His passion extends beyond music. He has a secret romance with something else – technology.

“I’m a geek,” confesses the pianist who has graced more than 800 venues worldwide with his performances.

The pianist, who is also a professor at Texas Christian University, locked himself in a room for an entire weekend to prove a programmer wrong about his own software. This programmer had told Feghali that the software probably was not capable of working with uncompressed audio, which produces the best possible sound quality. But Feghali played with the software’s code, which is open for anyone to modify, and he figured out that changing the buffering from 1,000 bytes to 5,000 bytes per second would result in a better sound output.

Voila! It worked.

This is merely one example that artists are creative people who can just create about anything.

Creativity is using your imagination and thoughts to explore the unexplored and bring into existence that no one has ever created. It doesn’t have to be in your field of expertise. Life is all about getting out of your comfort zone, experimenting, exploring. Frustration haunts people when they don’t realize their goals, but there is joy in awe-inspiring accomplishments. It takes determination.

Feghali didn’t only spend nights and days working on his piano skills, but also lived the life of an owl just to see his technological innovations work.

“Once something doesn’t make sense to me, it drives me nuts,” the curious professor said. “It keeps me awake all night.”

And, if you ask what he has done, here is the list: As a kid, the Brazilian native opened up televisions and other electronic appliances to figure out how they worked. As a teenage student in London, he assembled his first home computer, a Sinclair ZX81. He then helped the Cliburn Foundation, which runs the Cliburn International Piano competition and advocates classical music, to convert tapes from their archives to digital CDs. And now he is engaged with Internet2 technology, which is an advanced network application and technology used for education and high-speed data transfer. He has used the Internet2 and Conference XP to conduct classes between TCU and Cleveland Institute of Music and London’s Royal Academy of Music.

Remember the line from the Beatles’ song: “There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.” Feghali proves it. And if we look around us, we might find many people who have dedicated their lives for a purpose, but at the same time they have other passions that direct their lives.

You want me to name another?

J. Mack Slaughter Jr. (Read his story here) : He had a career in a boy band, and a TV and movie career in Hollywood. But the Fort Worth native is studying to become a doctor. He has established a nonprofit organization to integrate his first passion, music, and his medical profession.

Feghali and Slaughter are the few people who have made me realize that you, me and all of us have that secret passion that we need to discover. It could completely be off-track from our profession but could complement that. Feghali is using his love for technology to teach. Slaughter is using his music to help patients relieve stress.

It makes me think: Is journalism my sole purpose in life? I’m putting my thinking hat on.

This was originally published in The Dallas Morning News.

I started my day with this comment on my blog for my story on the 21-year-old raped nun: “To be honest, I do not believe that any such “traditionalists” exist. I believe it is a fabrication.”

I don’t think I need to be clarifying my story based on some random comment, but I stick true to my story, my research and my editor’s decision.

There have been comments from people who are stuck with their traditional beliefs, they exist in every religion. This one is only an example.

A news story in Republica on August 3 quotes the President of Nepal Tamang Ghedung Kumar Yonjan as saying,  “The religious dictum requires a nun to be virgin. So, it will be difficult to take her back. But we will lobby for her reinstatement as it is a unique incident.”

Again, at various instances, in different media, Norbu Sherpa, an official of Nepal Buddhist Federation, said, “Such a thing never happened in the Buddha’s lifetime. … So he did not leave instructions about how to deal with the situation. Buddhists all over the world adhere to what he had laid down: that a person can no longer be considered ordained in case of having a physical relationship. It’s applicable to both men and women.”

He further added, “A vessel that is damaged once can no longer be used to keep water. … Buddhism all over the world says this. Even the Dalai Lama says you can’t be a monk or nun after marriage.”

I tried to talk to Mr. Sherpa, but he was unavailable.

While these hard-headed people are supposedly blindfolded by their traditional beliefs, they tend to forget the human sentiments and values attached to the person.

All this time in the media, people have been focusing on these people who have negative things to say, who want to impose their religious and traditional beliefs.

So I thought it is a good opportunity to bring out facts–those not adhered to false traditional beliefs–and let people know what is in fact true.

I wonder when it’s something positive, people always seem to question and raise queries about facts and statements. But when there is any false alarm, any allegations, they tend to believe it. I mean, why didn’t people raise questions when the some people in the society were questioning her status? Why didn’t people ask them to clarify their statement–on which grounds they made their statement?

Well, here, I am certainly not trying to justify myself; I don’t need to. It’s just a small gesture from my side, personally, for all those people who live in the world of clarifications when it comes to positive and true statements and tend to blindly believe and follow after a quote that don’t hold much weight.

During the entire one hour bus ride, and even before I made the trip to Pharping in the outskirt of Kathmandu, there was only one question on my mind: How do I interview her?

This, by far means, has been one of the most complex interviews for me. Here I wasn’t interviewing a high-profile person, a celebrity or an overachiever. Those kinds of interviews are easy—you know what to ask and more often you can expect the answers as well. But this interview was different for it was too personal—so much personal that I didn’t know how to frame the questions, I even didn’t know how to approach her and then how to start talking.

I mean, how would you go up to a 21-year-old nun who was gang-raped by five men inside a bus? How would you start a conversation, forget an interview.

Before the interview, I was told not to ask anything about the incident that has scarred her. I was told she is not in a state of mind to answer or comment on that topic, and asking her about it would only make her more stressed. I totally understood that.

Before meeting her, I talked to the in-charge of the nunnery where she is now. I asked the in-charge about her, what she does, about her conditions and how has she improved in the two-month time since that night of June 24.

Then the in-charge, Pemba ji, took me to her room that she shared with two other nuns.

When I entered, I saw her sitting on the bed: in her maroon robe, legs crossed, facing to the open window, reading Pecha, a Buddhist prayer book. She was small, medium-height and of average weight. The first question that popped my mind when I saw her was: Seriously, how could those men be so cruel, full of those animal instincts?

I didn’t want to disturb her prayer. Her roommates were around and so was Pemba ji. They told me that she spent most of her day praying, reading, and now a days makes little conversation with her roommates. So I told them I would wait until she finishes her prayer. And she did in some five minutes.

I greeted her to which she replied flashing a big smile on her face. That smile on her face was priceless. I was only thinking if she used that smile as a shield to forget what had happened, to make others realize that nothing has gone wrong.

I sat close to her on her bed. She was still faced toward the window. I explained her and said I just wanted to talk generally about her and why she wanted to become a nun. She smiled back and said it was fine.

She told me her story in short sentences, sometimes pausing, other times just gushing out a smile. Whenever she stopped, I tried and inquired more, told her to elaborate a bit. But then again, she would just say, “It’s like that..”

It had been more than five minutes of conversation, and it really felt like a long time. I still didn’t know how to ask some questions.

But eventually after I thought she was comfortable enough answering questions, I asked her when and how she came to Kathmandu, how did she end up in Pharping.

“I don’t know anything,” she said in a low tone, fidgeting with her handkerchief. “I came in conscious state of mind only at the hospital in Kathmandu.”

As we kept talking she said of her state: “Ma k bhayo hola bhanne yaad hunthyo. Malai k garda niko huncha. Malai pahila yasto kehi pani bhaako thiena. (I use to remember what happened to me. What would it take to overcome this. Before, I wasn’t in such a state.)”

Then I asked her what happened? She said she doesn’t really remember. Then I tried to ask her about what kind of sickness was it as she mentioned she wasn’t feeling well. She just said headache, weakness, vomiting, and added that she was recovering.

As a reporter, as much I wanted to know the information on what happened on June 24, as an individual, I didn’t want to ask her all that. At this point of time, I was trying to be in my best journalistic form—I asked questions, I tried hard to get the story from her. But I really knew where to stop.

And I did stop.

Then I diverted the questions not in any way connected to her sickness or the incident. I asked about her likes and dislikes, her family, siblings, what she likes to do, what she was reading and how she spends her day. I also asked her if she would forever dedicated herself to being a nun.

In her maroon robe, sitting on the bed, occasionally wiping sweat off her forehead by a handkerchief, she spoke with hope and confidence that she’ll continue her devotion in the field she has chosen.

“I just want to study and become a good Ani [nun] and devote myself to this,” she said.

Well, that was an end. I thanked her, thanked her again. I asked her to take care of herself and left the room.

She said bye. During the entire conversation until the goodbye, she smiled. Her smile was something. I was quite intrigued by it—I kept on thinking, again, and again, how much of pain is behind that smile, and yet she was smiling.

I really do hope that the men who have committed this hideous crime get punished. But then again, in Nepal, according to the Muluki Ain, the country’s legal code, there is an imprisonment ranging from five to seven years for raping a woman 20 years or above. There is a further provision for gang rape: an additional five years to the imprisonment mentioned.

So a maximum sentence these men would get is some 13 years. Come to think of it, 13 years is a long time. But then again, I really don’t know if 13 years is long enough for the crime they have committed.

But whatever it is, I hope the nun gets justice, and I really do hope that we never have to report on such stories in future.

Read the story on tomorrow’s The Week.

Dear Nepal Embassy in Washington DC, two years of issuing a passport with some errors, the people at the British visa center in Kathmandu finally questioned me today and asked me to “amend” the information. I mean what in the world were you thinking when you entered my details in that passport? I mean how could you write my date of birth for the place of birth, and enter both place of birth and date of birth where it’s supposed to be date of birth?

I admit, I should also have done something about it but until now I was just getting along with it thinking that it wouldn’t be a biggie. But darn, today…I mean sometimes the system really tests your nerves, and patience.

So after an official at the visa center told me that I either had to amend my information from the Ministry of Foreign Affair’s passport section or wait for the response from the British High Commission in India. I waited for a about an hour but couldn’t wait longer.

I decided to run to the passport section. At least a friend had called there to expedite the process, and I think it did help a bit. I reached there. I ran to meet that person. He told me fill a form and get photo copies of my passport and citizenship. Thank GOD I was carrying my citizenship too. Then I crossed the road all the way to Thamel. Seeing me running, the guys in the “rip-off shops” at Thamel came and asked “Photo, photo?” As it seemed so many people, after waiting in line and reaching to the window just gets rejected because their photo requirements are wrong.

Anyway, coming back to my story. So I make two copies of my passport and citizenship. It would have cost me Rs 2 or 4 maximum; there it cost me Rs 20. And I needed a Rs 5 stamp for the form too. And they charged me double—Rs 10 for a Rs 5 stamp!

Then I went to meet the person whom my friend had mentioned. He signed the form and requested the person under him to assist me quickly. He asked me to pay the fee. So when I came down in a lobby like area, a woman was glued to her phone. I asked in a very nice tone where to pay the money. She r me. I asked again as she was whispering on the phone. It didn’t seem like an official call—maybe it was personal. Already stressed and pissed off, I couldn’t hold myself and my vocal tone erupted as I walked out. She stared at me. I was like, whatever.

Then I rushed to the counter again inside the ministry to pay a Rs 200 fee for amendment. The woman was already shouting at me for not being in the line. I requested her and begged her and explained the urgency, and when she had a look at my form, she said, “You haven’t even gone to window number 5.” Her tone was not something I liked, but I had to get my thing done.

So I go to window 5 again and get it signed and go to that counter where the line was long and the armpit smell strong. I was in line for 15 minutes before having a breath of fresh air and running to window 5.

I submitted. The person told me to come at 1:30. Darn. I had to reach the visa center by 2 anyhow. I did explain the situation and he seemed nice. As he walked out at 1 pm, I kept thinking if he would come on time. But he did. Thank god. So I had my job done and sped to the visa center.

God, I was on time, and I submitted my application on time. Good that some of the people in the government office seemed responsible and to be doing what they are supposed to be doing—helping people. And at the UK visa center too, the group of young people were very efficient, rather impressive.

But while all the drama was going on here, I was missing out an important interview for work. I had already rescheduled the interview from noon to 2 and I still couldn’t make it as it was in the outskirts of the city.

Well, for a moment I felt that it’s always people like us who have to pay for “their mistake” and up to a certain extent we do have to as well. But then again I should have been more careful too. I can’t just be blaming that “dumb douche” in Washington but if only if he/she had done their job well, it would have been a life minus a day if stress.

And now when I will look at that passport, a handwritten one, with an amendment in some bad handwriting stating that the government has amended the information, I could only be happier that the work was done in less than two hours!

I’ve met a 19-year old Afghan woman who defied the social norm and chose to work as a midwife, help save the dying mothers in her community. I hung out with this graffiti artist in Cape Town who grew up in the shanty town reserved for the black community during the apartheid era, and despite lack of resources and proper education he lived up to his dreams. I also came across some of the helping hands in Nepal’s healthcare system who work as female community health volunteers—more than 20 years of volunteer service is commendable.

These people have inspired me in some way or the other, whether to believe in your dreams, keep trying to attain my goals or just be someone or do something that you can really be proud of.

And this week, as we worked for our youth special, I came across some what I call exceptional young people, who are bold enough to make things happen, who have returned to Nepal from foreign lands to make a difference in their community and who have proved themselves despite the challenges.

Talking to these young people has certainly inspired me.

Take for example Kanchan Jha. He came back to Nepal and integrated himself with his community in Birgunj to help and rehabilitate drug users. He established an organization some three years ago and worked with drug users, former drug users to help spread awareness and rehabilitate addicts. For what he chose to be and for what he is doing, it seems that it’s all about the choices to make. For this graduate in international relations and economics from a US university, he could have chosen a life in the West but he instead opted to do what he is doing now. And for all the difference he has made in people’s lives, that’s something.

Then I met Devi Acharya. As I waited in the summer heat, she made her way in her wheelchair. She offered me a seat under the tree as she came closer to me on her wheelchair. “Let’s start the interview,” she said. for what she has been through, and more than that, the way she has overcome those challenges and the hardship is truly commendable. She is paralyzed chest-down but still she hass engaged herself into sporting activities like basketball and swimming. She heads the woman basketball team for women with spinal injury. She in fact has beaten her disability. If I had to learn something from her, it would be, never give up; nothing is actually impossible if you try.

Then I went to meet Nina Tiwari. She is also a graduate from the US. Here, she has given continuity to her family business and helped it add a new dimension. She runs a café called Nina & Hager. but though she owns the place, she isn’t bossing around. She takes orders, helps cook in the kitchen, serves water and food and even mops the floor and busses the tables, if needed. In this society where people love to boss around and show their supreme stature, Nina has turned out to be bold. She has defied the stereotypical roles. She says she wanted to want people to respect their work. And one thing I can learn from her is to respect every work and profession and also respect people in that profession. I mean, a lot of Nepalis can go abroad, work at fast food chains and grocery chains, but coming back to their homeland, it seems like they leave behind those experiences behind. They tend to forget how to respect that job, a person in that job. I’ll remember what Nina said, “You can learn from going abroad but you will never change. You’ll always be the person who you’ve been, and it largely depends on the way you’ve been brought up.” I can’t agree more.

And finally, I met a young volunteer, Shubha Kayastha who is the coordinator of the youth group YPEER Nepal. she gathers young people and discuss about sexual and reproductive health. She creates a space for conversation. In a conservative Nepali society, to be talking about this issue, and especially for a woman is an uneasy job. But her courage and boldness is praise worthy. From what I’ve learned is to be daring.

These people are young, but for what they bring out, for what they’ve done, my ten paragraphs in this blog cannot describe it. They are no one. They aren’t any celebrities. They haven’t made any significant contributions or world-famous awards. But for what they’re doing, and the inspiration they are providing, is much more than to have a celeb status. They’re more that celebrities. They’re heroes in their respective rights.

I have interviewed a lot of people. I’ve interviewed celebrities. And I would want to interview more celebrities. I can certainly brag about the fact that I’ve interviewed these big names. But at the end of the day, when I reflect on those interviews, I often think if I have gained something out of them apart from a story. The answer usually is a no.

But when I interview these normal people, who are in fact extraordinary, I feel inspired. I feel that I’ve learned something from them. I feel humbly touched by their humbleness. And I just want to hug them and say, thank you.

Here are the stories that in fact are stories in themselves.

Kanchan Jha

Today his project has expanded from Parsa to Dhanusha and Mahottari districts. It has rehabilitated 68 people–11 relapse cases–with the average age of 28 years.

While Kanchan Jha, now 27, is dedicated to making a better, drug-free community, his initiation has also helped other people to recover from drug abuse.

In Birgunj, his hometown notoriously dubbed the drug capital of Nepal, his organization called Sano Paila has been able to establish Action for Addiction, a self-help rehabilitation center for drug addicts run by former drug addicts.

The idea, Jha says, was to “spread the message and let people know that it was possible” to be cleaned and cured of drug abuse.

In the center that currently houses five but is expanding to a 25-bed facility in September, former addicts now work as role models, outreach workers and counselors.

Jha, who is also the founder and executive director of Sano Paila, says that during the three years of its operation, Sano Paila has created much trust in the community.

An example he points out is the funding they receive. People from low-income bracket such as rickshaw pullers to big business houses now contribute to the organization.

“We want to make it certain to them that this is our community, and we have to solve our problems,” Jha says of the trust and confidence Sano Paila has won from the community.

Upon his return to Nepal after his education and while on a visit to his hometown, Jha observed the socio-political turmoil in the heart of the Madhesh conflicts.

“I wanted to create an opportunity for myself to make contributions to the community I belong to and the society as a whole,” he says of the determination he made then.

In his quest, Jha visited 82 villages in Parsa to get more involved and dig out the issues affecting people.

Today, his project has expanded from Parsa to Dhanusha and Mahottari districts. It has rehabilitated 68 people—11 relapse cases—with the average age of 28 years, and now boasts an army of more than 500 youth volunteers.

“We’ve inspired people to tackle their own problems. I think we’ve given them a platform,” he says about the works Sano Paila has been doing.

Devi Acharya

Devi, who found her solace in sports, believes that no form of disability should hinder anyone to realize their goals.

By definition, Devi Acharya (right), 30, is disabled, but that hasn’t defeated her willpower.

The game coordinator at the Nepal Spinal Cord Injury Sports Association, she also leads the women’s basketball team of the Association.

A sports fanatic from schooldays, Acharya became paralyzed from her chest down after a 2004 accident. Four years of depression and some time at a rehab center, the Butwal native found her solace in sports.

It has been two years since she has been playing basketball, and now, even swimming. Everyday, unless it rains, she says her team of five, along with two extra players, practices in the nearby school’s basketball court in Jorpati.

She is happy for the fact that other disabled people look up to them and express their wish to play.

“We can be role models for them and show people that we can do something [despite our disability],” she says.

But problems persist. Lack of wheelchair maintenance workshops and also being deficient of sports wheelchairs, she said, at times makes playing difficult. But despite that, they are continuing, and according to Acharya, they “are a good team.”

Currently, Acharya, along with her teammates, is practicing for the second national games in Butwal in November. As a coordinator for the games, she says her “target is to take 10 teams and 70 players to Butwal” and make the event a success.

Acharya, who lives by herself and supports her own living, says sports makes her happy and relaxed and is also a good form of exercise for disabled people like herself.
She believes that no form of disability should hinder anyone to realize their goals.

“We have to make our own way,” she says. “[And with sports] we’re making a way, looking for opportunities and also creating them.”

Nina Tiwari

At her store, Nina & Hager, Nina Tiwari, 30, does it all. She can be seen taking orders, helping in the kitchen, serving her customers, and even bussing the tables and mopping the floor, if needed.

She says that people should not be embarrassed to do any sort of jobs, and even people with a degree can do what she is doing.

“When I sit behind the counter [or serve], it’s such a huge deal,” she notes. “But when I do this, this makes the people sitting behind the counter [or serving] know the value of the job.”

After finishing her education in the US, Tiwari returned to Nepal in 2009 and helped to expand their family business and add a new dimension—the café in Maharajgunj, along with the store.

She believes that being involved in her own business adds more value and a personal touch. According to Tiwari, it makes a difference in quality and wants to make people come back again.

“It means they believe in you,” she says. “They like that self-involvement.”

During her two years of working at her store, Tiwari says she has made friends and a loyal clientele. She also shares some personal anecdotes: the shock and awe some people have when they find her as the owner, and the ones who get her chocolates and cakes.

In the service business, good service is all that matters, she says, adding that “it takes years to earn a good customer and a second to lose one.”

For what she is doing, Tiwari, who was a teacher before venturing into this, she credits her family.

“But I give myself full credit for the work I’ve done and the success I’ve gained,” she says.

But money can’t buy success or good service. At a time when leaders in the hospitality and service-oriented businesses are ailing and ignoring customer service, here is one individual trying to make a difference.

Shubha Kayastha

She speaks a hush-hush affair aloud, makes sexual and reproductive health a part of the conversation. And peer education could be a start.

While conversation on sexual and reproductive health—even amongst youth—is still a hush-hush affair, Shubha Kayastha, 25, speaks it out aloud.

The national focal point in-charge/coordinator of YPEER Nepal, a global network of more than 500 non-governmental organizations working in adolescent sexual and reproductive health, Kayastha believes in tackling these issues through meaningful conversations.

“They should be informed first,” says Kayastha who has been involved in social service since 2007. “And then they should get involved in the community and share the information with their friends.”

Saturdays at the Bhaktapur Youth Information Center serves this purpose. A self-help group that started in 2005, its young people, 95% of them girls, discuss sexual health, their curiosities and other issues.

The Center is one of the 50 youth organizations in Nepal under YPEER’s umbrella that Kayastha coordinates.

In one of her latest efforts, Kayastha, along with five other young members, is involved in making alternative sanitary pads for women. After training, they have used this model to spread awareness of menstrual hygiene and sanitation.

Made from flannel and hand-stitched with another piece of cloth inside, Kayastha says the pads are washable and thus reusable.

“In rural areas, it becomes more practicable,” she says, pointing to other members who have taken this model to their communities.

However, she says peer education is not a complete package and should thus be combined with proper information and referral mechanisms.

“The focus now is to build capacity of peer educators so that they inform other youth and their communities. I’ve made a small initiation,” Kayastha says.