म त,
रहरै रहरमा
यो तिम्रो सहरमा
बाटो बिर्सिएको मान्छे हुँ म
माटो बिर्सिएको मान्छे हुँ म
रहरै रहरमा
मान्छेको लहरमा
मन मस्तिष्क र मानवता
बिर्सेका विरक्त बिरामी
सँग सँगै हिँडेर निकै
थाकेर बसेको मान्छे हुँ म
भागेर बसेको मान्छे हुँ म
सबैलाई आफन्तै ठानी
देखेर दयालु दानी
मिठो मायालु बानी
झुटो रहेछ जानी
प्रहार प्रेम र पिडा
बोकेर हिडेको मान्छे हु म
भोगेर हिडेको मान्छे हुँ म
रहरै रहरमा
यो तिम्रो सहरमा
बाटो बिर्सिएको मान्छे हुँ म
माटो बिर्सिएको मान्छे हुँ म।।
My six years old son was accumulating his playthings in the waiting room, which I had been watching passionately. The television had been running aside, BBC News, nobody of us had been really paying attention to it, aimlessly. Asim had lost a brick, maybe, that he was unable to complete the plastic house with the bricks I had bought for him more than a month ago. I was passing my instructions, I had no idea myself, to help him accomplish his little task. Furthermore, we heard this on TV - “Sarbari Astabakra from Nepal won the Nobel prize for literature for his book Miracles Happen….”
I
just noticed the word “Nepal”, ceasing my involvement with my son, and turned
towards the TV, to know what the Nobel prize had to do with Nepal. A guy from Nepal had actually won the Nobel
prize. Really? Incredible.
“Oh
My God!”
“What
happened, papa?” With curiosity at my expressions, Asim solicited.
What
would I tell him? Did he even know what the Nobel prize had been?
“A
Nepali has won the Nobel prize for literature. Do you know what that is?”
“Of
course, isn’t that the greatest prize awarded for writings?”
“How
do you know?” I responded with surprise.
“Come
on, pop! We study that at school.”
“Oh!”
I could make sense of it now.
Both
of us focused on the television to find out who Mr Astabakra was and his
identity. This name, a Sanskrit word representing a Vedic saint with a
distorted body because of eight bends, did not even sound Nepali. Christiane
Amanpour, the chief anchor, still was sticking to the award report. Nevertheless,
she hardly said anything about this person but his work. CNN did not even show
the picture of Astabakra, and this must be a pseudo name of a real author.
“Nothing has been revealed about the author yet but his nationality”, Amanpour
ended the topic.
I
googled his name, and nothing came out except the news. I observed the news,
television, print, and online, as per my curiosity to know about this Nobel
prize laureate for a few days that followed. However, that did not help.
Two
weeks after the news, Asim ran to me and gushed, “Papa, this is it.” He had
browsed a picture on his Ipad.
“Who
is he?” I enquired.
“Sarbari
Astabakra”.
“Really?
How did you find it?”
“The
prime minister tweeted it with a congratulatory message.”
“Do
you use Twitter too?”
“I
was just scrolling your account, paa.”
I
glanced at the picture, Mr Sarbari Astabakra. A man in his mid forty, big
dreads and beards like a sage, and spectacles in his dark sunken eyes hardly
made him appear an author. I experienced Deja vu, and it was a familiar face.
Did I know him? Maybe. I could not recall where I had seen him before.
“Do
you know him, papa?” tendered Asim.
“I
can’t say. But I bet I know him”, I responded.
“I
have seen him too”, he smiled.
“Where?”
“In
our photo album. The old one.” Despite the young age, Asim was brilliant, at
least more than I was. He rushed to the drawer, pulled out an old photo album
and quickly turned it into a group photo. It was taken on the last day of my
college at the University. Asim pointed his finger at the middle row third from
the right side and exclaimed, “Here he is! Isn’t he Mr Astabakra?”
“He
is”, I sighed, “but his name is Sandarva. Sandarva Lama from Dolpa. How the
hell did he become Sarbari Astabakra?” A chilled air passed through my
forehead, which took me almost 22 years earlier, in those University days.
A
crowd had gathered at the notice board for the entrance exam result that had
been published a bit earlier. Two hundred and sixty-two students had competed for
two hundred seats, a fair competition. The main reason students would prefer
colleges rather than the University was its day classes. A master’s level
student generally needed a job to survive in Kathmandu, and day classes would
take the prime time for a job. Most of the students there were from middle
class or even lower-class families. There had been several alternatives for
people with money, and they could go to study abroad or enrol themselves within
the expensive colleges within the country. Only the University had been the
cheapest for those students who would not need a job to manage their expenses.
I
was among the top thirty, therefore happy too. The top thirty students from the
entrance result were supposed to get a $50 worth scholarship from the entire
semester fee of $150. Almost everyone was happy with the result as even the
sixty-two students who had not been selected in the University could choose its
constituent campuses. Nevertheless, one guy with dark, medium-length wavy hair,
a red checked shirt, old jeans, and slippers in his feet seemed restless. He
was rushing in and out of the administrative building, maybe, seeking somebody
to pose some of his queries.
He
drew our attention as he appeared strange to us, me and Himal. Later, we heard
him complaining to the administrative officer, “If I have to choose the
constitutive campus over the University, why would I come to Kathmandu? I would
rather join Dhaulagiri Multiple Campus at Baglung or Prithivinarayan Campus at
Pokhara. They are near to my village, Mukot”. He was the 201st student on the
list, which disqualified him from enrolling in the University against his
expectations.
We
had five sections with 40 students in each, and I came to be in section B.
Miraculously, the guy from Dolpa, Sandarva, too, was in the same section.
Someone had left the merit list, and therefore he got the chance to enrol.
Nobody really noticed him until one day, the day he had a great debate with
Professor Subedi.
Professor Subedi had been running the discussion on H. Rider
Haggard's King Solomon's Mines.
"This novel embraces the colonialist attitude and actually justifies the
European's capture of the African countries. The white men, with various
excuses, robbed the year's old treasures preserved by native Africans. They
said it was their burden, white man's burden, to educate and civilize the
ethnic group of South Africa".
"But Professor," Sandarva interrupted, "how can
we generalize the entire Europeans with the acts of some mere explorers?"
"That's symbolic," said Dr Subedi, "many scholars
have critiqued this novel for its colonialist attitude".
"But they might have made a mistake. I think we should not
put the whole Europeans in a single basket of explanation. Isn't it the same
attitude as the people who regard all Asians and Africans to be uncivilized? We
are flipping the coin, not balancing it, professor". This response baffled
Dr Subedi for a while. We did not get whether he made any sense of Sandarva's
response or not. However, he was indignant when he bellowed, "Shut up! You
are not that smart to understand these things. They are way more complicated
than you think. Simply get out of my class! Go out!" We were speechless.
Sandarva silently moved out.
There were rumours in our class that Sandarva would surely fail
Dr Subedi's subject. Forty percent of the internal assessment were purely
dependent on the Professor's grace; however, there had been several titles for
the assessment- Presentation, Attendance, Research Paper, and Classroom
Interaction. We suggested to him, time and often, to remain silent in the
class, which he never obeyed. Occasionally, he would have such arguments with
professors, of which some of them would take it emphatically, some would regard
that as an insult.
Sandarva was not intelligent in a traditional way, like
recalling the things exactly as the teacher had taught and scoring good grades,
but in different ways. He would think innovatively, with different
perspectives, and liked to challenge the existing thought system. The books had
taught us to do the same things which we studied and scored good marks writing
the same in the exam, but he practised in real life. We would memorize others'
ideas, and he would innovate his own. Nevertheless, in the theoretical exam, he
had poor scores. He hardly passed the first semester.
It was not because of Dr Subedi's assessment, and in fact, he
had got good grades in his subject. Neither was it because of the internal
assessment nor for his frequent arguments with professors. It was all for his
poor performance in the written exam. Once I asked him, "How do you come
to get such low grades in your finals, Sandarva?" "I studied all my
life in the government school. I cannot express in English what I think inside.
That's all," he responded. I offered him a couple of suggestions to
improve his English.
"Thanks! I will do my best this semester," he assured
me.
Eventually, we became good friends, but not the best ones. I was
still befriended with Himal, shared a room and a lot of secrets with him.
Furthermore, at the university, Sumita, my girlfriend, would be with me all the
time. Sumita, too, had been in the same section and everyone in the class was
well aware of our love. I did not have many talks with Sandarva, but sometimes
we shared the same table at the canteen.
"Where are you from, Sandarva?" I informally asked
him.
"Chharka Tangsong rural municipality. It's in Dolpa,"
he replied.
"It must be a beautiful place. What do your parents do
there?"
"It is. By the way, I don't have parents. I am my own
parents," he giggled. This response made me more curious.
"Why? What happened to them?" I posed another
question.
"To whom? My parents? I do not know. I don't remember. I do
remember my grandmother, and she too died of illness when I was in grade
9," he was calm while saying this.
"How do you manage all the expenses then, to study, to live
?"
"I work," he remarked. He did not show much interest
in participating in my interview anymore.
One late evening, I saw him selling vegetables in the street
down to Gumba road along with several other street vendors. I tried to talk to
him, but he simply ignored me as he had been busy dealing with the customers.
"Oh! This is the work he does," I told myself. Furthermore, it did
not surprise me much. What surprised me most was when we met him working as a
gatekeeper at the Lord of Drinks, a nightclub at Thamel, Kathmandu. We had been
there on the occasion of Sumita's birthday. Himal and two more of our friends
had joined us. We were shocked to see Sandarva at the gate.
"What are you doing here?" I babbled.
"I work here," he stuttered as if he was suddenly
found guilty of something.
"Don't you sell vegetables?" It was Himal this time.
"I do many things," he was very comfortable saying
this.
"Why are you working so hard?"
"I am planning to buy a farm at Dolpa," he explained
his plans.
We had the party that night and returned from there so late. It
was four in the morning. We did not find Sandarva at the gate, and probably, he
had left beforehand. It was too early to return to the homes; therefore, I
proposed to the others to spend time on the university premises. Five of us
entered the university in a taxi, a hired one. We entered the garden in front
of the clock building below the fence as the gates were locked. At the verandah
of the clock building, it was something moving. It scared us to hell at first,
but we went closer after we realized it was a human. To our surprise, it was
the same guy, Sandarva, sleeping under a shabby blanket there.
"Oh, hello!" we stirred him up. With a baffled and
dizzy look, he responded to us.
"What are you doing here?" It took a bit of time for
him to realize that it was not a dream.
"We just trespassed, after returning from the club," I
replied, "do you always sleep here?"
"I sleep wherever I get space," he uttered without
much explanation.
"Don't you have a room on a lease?"
"No, it's so expensive here in Kathmandu. I just have two
semesters left. After that, I will be returning to my home town. Why would I be
spending so much money on a room where I would scarcely be spending time?"
he elaborated. All of this amazed us and left us speechless.
One day during the break, I asked Sandarva about his aim in
life. "You said you wanted to buy a farm and rear ruminants. So, what's
the purpose of studying? What do you wish to achieve through this Sandarva?"
"I am not studying to make money or to have a decent job. I
just want to help the people like me in my village, making their lives a bit
easier. Besides, it gives me satisfaction. It helps me know how the rest of the
world thinks," he responded wisely, "I want to write a book too,
namely Miracles Happen, to inspire
lonely people like me". He had no family to accompany him like us. He had
no big dreams like us, but he desired extraordinarily, as none of us would.
In the last two semesters, he did terrific except for his thesis
work. In the theoretical exams, he scored at least an A-minus in all subjects.
However, the department rejected his thesis dissertation three times. Most of
us had graduated, but he was still pursuing his research work for the following
three years. I met him at the University, waiting for a professor, after two
and half years as I have been there to enrol myself in PhD.
"I cannot believe you are still here at University. Aren't
you supposed to accomplish your degree yet?" I catechized him.
He smiled and murmured, "they did not like my idea. Now, I
am doing what they like."
"Why? What happened?"
"At first, I wanted to research on the miracles that happen
in people's lives because of their thoughts. My thesis guide simply rejected it,
saying it was not scholarly enough after it was fully done. I had to change the
topic. This time I tried to work on the gaps of Derrida's deconstructionism. My
professor again denied this idea saying there are no cons in
deconstructionism," he whispered.
"What are you planning to do next then?"
"I think I will analyze a novel like everyone else,"
he declared, "but I have no regrets about what I have done earlier".
"I will work more on the first idea to develop it in a
book. I will name it Miracles Happen, that
will change people's thoughts and also lives," he continued, "I am
just trying to elapse this time".
"Who is your thesis guide?" I asked eagerly.
"Dr Subedi", he retorted wittingly.
"That was the last time I have ever seen Sandarva. I have
no idea if Sarbari Astabakra and Sandarva have been the same person till now. I
knew this guy will achieve something great". My son, Asim, was listening
to me attentively.
"Oh, that means you are the best friend of a Nobel Prize
winner, aren't you?" he grilled.
"Kind of," I answered.
ढुकुरे। हाम्रो सहरको “लिजेण्ड” हो ऊ। वास्तविक नाम पनि थियो होला उसको तर मलाइ कहिल्यै थाहा भएन। न त ऊसँग सोध्ने आँट नै भयो। उसको अस्तित्व त मैले थाहा पाउनु भन्दा धेरै अगाडी थियो होला तर मैले पहिलो पटक उसको भेउ पाएको म कक्षा आठ / नौ मा पढ्दा ताका हो। हामी हरेक दिन विद्यालय आउँदा जाँदा उसलाई बाटोमा बरालिँदै हिँडेको देख्थ्यौँ। बेग्लै किसिमको सेलिब्रेटी थियो उ - सबैले चिन्दथे तर उ कसैको आकर्षणको केन्द्र भने थिएन।
शरीरमा झुत्रा झिम्रा झुन्डाएर हिँड्दथ्यो ऊ। जिङ्ग्रिङ्ग परेका पातला कैला कपाल, हात भरी औँठी र एउटा फोहोर थाल, घामले मक्किएको अनुहारमा गहिरा डोब परेका गाला र हाड छाला मात्र बाँकी रहेको दुब्लो शरीर ढुकुरेका केही पहिचान थिए। हामी स्नातक तहसम्मै पुगिसक्दा पनि ढुकुरेको थाक थलो उही सानो नगर थियो। हामी तन्नेरी हुँदै थियौँ, उ बुढो हुँदै गइरहेको थियो।
एक दिन पानी ट्याङ्की नजिकै राखिएको एउटा ठेलामा दस दस रुपैयाँको चाउमिनको अर्डर पर्खिरहेका थियौँ। पछाडिबाट एउटा मसिनो आवाजले कोट्याउँदै सोध्यो -”दुई रुप्प्या द्याओ न भाउ।” म अलि झस्केर पर सरेँ। आँखाको छेउछाउ बाट सेतो पदार्थ प्रस्ट देखिएको उही ढुकुरे मेरो पछाडि ङिच्च हाँस्दै उभिरहेको थियो। उसले थोत्रा टालाटुलीले भरिएको प्लास्टिकको ठुलो थैलो टाउकोमा बोकिरहेको थियो। एउटा साथीले उसलाई पाँच रुपैयाँ थमाइदियो अनि उ अलि खुसी हुँदै बरबराउँदै हिँड्यो परतिर।
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| Photo Credit: Hello Tikapur |
“मायामा धोका खाएर रे भन्ने सुनेको। खै कुन्नि।”
“परिवारले सम्पत्ति हडप्न घर बाट निकालेको रे? त्यही भएर त बेला बेला गाली गर्दै हिँड्छ।”
“खै, किन हो, किन हो? जिन्दगीमा त्यस्तै हुन भनेर लेखेको छ होला, कारण चाहिन्छ र?”
“हो यार, जिन्दगीमा धेरै कुरा कारण बिनै हुन्छन्।”
“हैन केटा हो, यो ढुकुरे सँग टन्न पैसा छ होला है, सधैँ मागेर मात्र हिँड्छ। खर्च गर्ने ठाउँ नै छैन।” कुरा मोडियो।
“खै? मलाइ त यो मान्छे पागल जस्तो नै लाग्दैन। पैसा चिन्ने र महत्व बुझ्ने मान्छे पनि कहीँ पागल हुन्छ?”
हाम्रो कुरा ध्यान दिएर सुनिरहेका एक जना बा ले हामी तिर फर्किदै थप्नु भयो-”पागल होइन नि यो मान्छे बाबु हो। असहाय हो, जोगी हो। सबै कुरा बुझ्छ यसले। तिस चालिस बर्ष पहिलेको कुरा पनि सम्झन सक्छ।”
“अनि बाजे, यो मान्छेले पैंसा चाहिँ के गर्छ?”
“बिचरा, पैंसाको महत्व सवै थाहा छ नि उसलाई। केहि आफ्नै योजना होलान। तर सबै आवारा केटाहरूले लुटी दिन्छन्। बनिरहेका तर नसकिएका खुला घरहरूमा त बस्छ उ। रातमा उसको ठेगाना पैल्याइ हाल्छन उनीहरुले।”
दया जागेर आयो उसप्रति। लाग्यो आफूले यति धेरै दुख पाएको ठाउँ किन छोडेर नगएको होला ऊ।
उसले त होइन बरु बिस्तारै मैले त्यो सहर छोडेँ। वर्ष-दुइ वर्षमा एक पटक गइरहन्थे म त्यो ठाउँ। कहिले कहीँ बाटो हिँड्दा देख्थेँ ढुकुरेलाई। अलि बुढो उमेरको ढुकुरे, अझै उस्तै अवस्थामा थियो। “काँ छियौ त भाउ? तम्लाई निकै देख्यान त।” एक दिन बाटो हिडी रहँदा यस्तै भनेको थियो ढुकुरेले। मलाइ साँच्चिकै अचम्मित बनायो यस कुराले। कहिल्यै दोहोरो संवाद नभएको मसंग, कसरी चिन्यो उसले मलाइ? के उसले मलाई कहिल्यै त्यो सहरमा “नोटिस” गरेको थियो? उ मलाई अर्कै मान्छे ठानेर झुक्किएको पो थियो कि? । कि यो केवल एउटा संयोग थियो?
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| Photo credit: Chandrodaya Steel Udhyog |
“गोविन्द केसी प्रकरण: धेरै चपायो भने चिनी पनि तीतो हुन्छ।” ट्विटर मा यस्तै एउटा पोस्ट देखेँ। प्रोफाइल खोलेर हेर्दा एउटा निलो चिन्हले प्रमाणित एउटा अकाउन्ट खुल्यो। उक्त अकाउन्ट थियो बिष्णु रिजालको, जसको अकाउन्टकै बायोमा लेखिएको थियो-”उपप्रमुख, नेकपा परराष्ट्र बिभाग”।
सत्तारुढ दलकै एकजना नेताले यस्तो लेख्नु कुनै अचम्म हुँदै भएन । अवश्य पनि उहाँलाई चिनी धेरै खायो भने तितो हुन्छ भन्ने दिव्य ज्ञान रहेछ तर उहाँलाई एउटा ज्ञान के भएन भने यहाँ धेरै जनताहरुको लागि चिनी एउटा महँगो उपभोग्य सामाग्री हो । जसलाई धेरै चिनी खाएर तितो भएको अनुभव छैन र उनीहरुलाई चिनी गुलियो हुन्छ भन्ने मात्र थाहा छ । उहाँले के पनि थाहा पाउनु पर्छ भने सबै जनताको बिष्णु रिजालकै जस्तो पहुँच छैन र जसको लागी स्वास्थ्य सेवा महँगो कुरा हो। आफ्ना योग्य सन्तानहरुलाई मेडिकल शिक्षा पढाउन अहिलेको अवस्थामा कयौं निम्न र मध्यम वर्गीय जनताहरु असक्षम छन् भन्ने कुरामा रिजालजी कै असहमति छैन होला ।
डा. केसीका माग प्रति सरकार उदासिन बनेर बसिरहेको छ मानौँ कि उनका माग पुरा गर्न आफ्नो गोजीबाट निकालेर पैंसा खर्च गर्नु पर्छ जस्तो। कहिले सरकारका प्रवक्ता यो अनसन बस्ने उपयुक्त समय होइन भनेर सार्वजनिक रुपमा मन्तव्य दिन्छन भने कहिले नेकपाले बैठक नै डाकेर अनसन फिर्ता आग्रह गर्छन। सरकारले आफै स्वतः स्फुर्त गर्नुपर्ने कामको लागी गोविन्द केसी अनसन बस्नुपर्ने? के छन् त पुरै गर्न नसकिने डा. केसीका मागहरु?
उनका मागहरु यस्ता छन् :
१. कर्णाली स्वास्थ्य विज्ञान प्रतिष्ठानमा तत्काल पूर्वाधार र जनशक्ति पुर्याएर एमबीबीएस लगायतका कार्यक्रमहरु संचालन गरियोस् । गेटा मेडिकल कलेज र राप्ति स्वास्थ्य विज्ञान प्रतिष्ठानमा शीघ्र पूर्वाधार र जनशक्ति पुर्याएर पठनपाठन शुरू गरियोस् । प्रदेश नं दुई र गण्डकी प्रदेश तथा डोटी वा डडेल्धुरा, उदयपुर र इलाम वा पाँचथरमा सरकारी मेडिकल कलेज खोल्ने प्रक्रिया अघि बढाइयोस् ।
२. मास्कको प्रयोग र सामाजिक दुरीलाई अनिवार्य गर्दै पीसीआर परीक्षण व्यापक बनाएर लकडाउन र निषेधाज्ञा अन्त गरियोस् । कोभिड तथा अन्य रोगका सबै बिरामीहरुका लागि समेत उचित उपचारको व्यवस्था गरियोस् ।
३. हामीसँग २०७५ साउन १० गते भएको सम्झौताअनुसार चिकित्सा शिक्षा ऐनमा संशोधन गरियोस् ।
४. त्रिवि चिकित्साशास्त्र अध्ययन संस्थानमा वरिष्ठता मिचेर भएका नियुक्तिहरु सच्याउँदै सबै पदमा वरिष्ठताका आधारमा नियुक्ति गरियोस् । विश्वबिद्यालय, काउंसिल र प्रतिस्ठानहरुमा पदाधिकारी नियुक्तिका लागि पदाधिकारी मापदण्ड निर्धारण समितिले दिएको सुझाब अनुरूप निष्पक्ष र पारदर्शि ढङ्गले पदाधिकारी नियुक्त गर्ने कानूनी व्यवस्था गरियोस् ।
५. बयलपाटा अस्पताललाई नियमित आवश्यक बजेटको व्यवस्था गरी दिगो निशुल्क सेवा सुनिस्चित गरियोस् ।
६. राज्य लक्ष्मी गोल्छा घुस काण्ड, आयल निगम जग्गा खरिद काण्ड, वाइड बडी काण्ड, सेक्युरिटी प्रेस खरिद काण्ड, दरबारमार्गको जग्गा काण्ड, ओम्नी समुहको औषधि खरिद काण्ड लगायत सबै ठूला भ्रष्टाचार काण्डका दोषीहरुलाई कानुन बमोजिम छानविन र कारवाही गरियोस् । बालुवाटार जग्गा काण्डमा आपराधिक लाभ लिने सत्तारुढ दलका नेतामाथि छानविन र कारवाही चलाइयोस् । यी सबै प्रकरणका दोषीहरुलाई कारवाही नगरेर सत्ताको इशारामा उन्मुक्ति दिएमा अख्तियारका बहालवाला तथा सेवा निवृत्त आयुक्तहरुमाथि पनि कानुन बमोजिम छानविन र महाभियोगलगायतका कारवाही गरियोस् । अख्तियारका आयुक्त लगायत सबै दोषी व्यक्तिहरुमाथि सम्पत्ति शुद्धीकरणको मुद्दा चलाइयोस् ।
यी मागहरु यति साधारण छन् कि पुरा गर्नको लागी कोरोनाले कुनै असर गर्दैन। तर सरकारलाइ त कोरोनाले फलिफाप गरिदिएको छ.। जे कुरामा पनि कोरोनालाइ दोष दियो बस्यो। शिक्षा र स्वास्थ्यमा आएको अर्वौ रुपैयाँको कुनै लेखा जोखा छैन.। कोरोना नियन्त्रणको नाममा एक प्रकारको लुटतन्त्र नै चलाइरहेको छ भन्दा अतियोक्ति नहोला। बरु विभिन्न खरिदहरुको नाममा कमिसनको खेलमा आफै लिप्त छ सरकार। दलाल र घुसखोरीहरुको हाली मुहाली छ.। थोरै भए पनि आफ्नो काम देखेर लाज मान्नु पर्ने होइन र? आफै स्वतः स्फुर्त रुपमा गर्नुपर्ने राम्रा कामहरुको लागी सधैं आन्दोलन गरिरहनुपर्ने तैपनि नदेखे झैँ गर्ने, नसुने झैँ गर्ने यो कस्तो सरकार? यो कस्तो लोकतन्त्र?
अहिले हाम्रो सामाजिक सञ्जालमा तिन चारओटा कुराहरूको खुबै टिप्पणीहरू भइरहेको छ, ती हुन, टीकटक भर्सेस युट्युब, कालापानी, वर्षा राउतले यसमाथि दिएको स्टेटमेन्ट र पछिल्लो समय रुकुम घटना।
विषयवस्तुमा जानु पहिले म तपाईँलाई तिन वटा प्रश्नहरू राख्छु यसका उत्तरहरू तपाइको दिमागमा तयार पर्नुहोला, ताकि प्रस्तुत हुन गइरहेको विषय बुझ्न सजिलो होस्।
१. टिकटक र युट्युबमा मान्छेहरू किन एक अर्कालाई उडाएर कन्टेन्ट बनाइरहेका छन् त ?
२. नेपाल र भारत बिचमा धेरै ठाउँमा सीमा विवाद छ तर किन कालापानीको मात्रै चर्चा हुन्छ होला?
३. वर्षा राउतले नेपाललाई माया नगर्ने नै होला त?
४. के रुकुम घटना जातीय विभेदको उत्कर्ष हो?
आउनुहोस् कुरा बुझ्ने र बुझाउने कोसिस गरौँ
युट्युबमा आजकाल एउटा नाम चर्चित भएको छ- क्यारी मिनाटि। उनी प्रख्यात भएका छन् उनको टिकटकरलाइ उडाउने पाराले। उनले अमिर सिद्धिकी नाम गरेका एक टिकटोकरलाइ उडाएको भिडियो निकै छोटो समयमा डेढ करोड पटक हेरिएको थियो। अमिरले युटुबेर माथि पनि नकारात्मक टिप्पणी खुबै गरेका थिए।
हालै मिनाटीको भिडियो युट्युबले डिलिट गरिदिएको कुरामा खुबै हङ्गामा पनि सुनियो। युट्युबरले टिकटकरलाइ र टिकटकरले युट्युबरलाइ आलोचना गर्ने उडाउने, कसै कसैले तल्लो तहको भाषा प्रयोग गरेर गाली पनि गरेको देखियो। यो ट्रेन्ड अहिले संसार भरी चलिरहेको छ। नेपालमा यसको प्रभाव नपर्ने त कुरै भएन।
अङ्ग्रेजीमा एउटा शब्द छ प्रोपागान्डा, जसको नेपालीमा अर्थ हुन्छ प्रचारबाजी । लेखिका एन म्याकक्लिण्टोकले आफ्नो लेख “सेभेन टेक्निक अफ प्रोपगाण्डा”मा प्रचारबाजी का सात वटा टेक्निक को व्याख्या गरेकी छन्। लेखिकाका अनुसार यी टेक्निकहरू विज्ञापन र राजनीतिक नेता हरुले प्रयोग गर्छन्। तर आजभोलि यी विधिहरू सामाजिक सञ्जालमा पनि प्रशस्त प्रयोग भएका छन् जसले हाम्रो विचार र मूल्याङ्कन क्षमतालाई प्रभाव पार्दछन्।
१. NAME CALLING अर्थात् नराम्रो उपमा
नेम कलिङ प्रचारबाजीको यस्तो विधि हो जसमा एउटा पक्षले अर्को पक्षलाई नराम्रा उपमा अथवा नामहरूले व्याख्या गरिन्छ। यसमा प्रचार बाजले आफ्नो विपक्षीलाई नराम्रो भनेर सर्वसाधारणहरूमा एक किसिमको घृणा, डर, र अविश्वास पैदा गर्छ, र यसले श्रोताको आफ्नो व्यक्तिगत बिचारलाई पनि प्रभाव पार्छ। नेताहरूले आफ्ना विपक्षीहरूका समर्थक घटाउन यो विधि प्रयोग गर्दछन्। अहिले टिकटक र य़ुट्युबबीच भइरहेको यही हो। गल्ती प्रोपगाण्डा फैलाउनेको मात्र होइन, यस्ता कुरा हरुले दर्शक पनि निकै तान्दछ, टिकटक भर्सेस युट्युब गुगलमा केही समय यता निकै खोजिएको कि-वर्ड हो।
२. Glittering Generalities अर्थात् रङ्गीचङ्गी र चिल्लो भाषाको प्रयोग
नेम कलिङ को विपरीत यसमा प्रचार बाजले आफ्ना प्रशंसक हरू तान्न मिठो भाषाहरू प्रयोग गर्दछन्। राजनीतिमा आफूलाई लोकतान्त्रिक, जनप्रेमी, भ्रस्टाचारविरोधी भन्ने नेताहरू वास्तविकतामा कस्ता हुन्छन् भन्ने कुरा हामीलाई थाहै छ। युटुबरहरु आफूलाई राम्रो र टिकटोकरहरु आफूलाई राम्रो भनेको पनि एउटा प्रोपगाण्डा हो।
३. TRANSFER अर्थात् तुलना
प्रोपगन्डा को यो विधि अनुसार प्रचारवाजहरुले कुनै कुराको तुलना अर्को उच्च महत्त्व भएको कुरासंग गर्दछन् ताकि कुनै कुरालाई आफ्नो फाइदा अनुसार प्रयोग गर्न सकियोस्। विगतमा कालापानीको तुलना हाम्रो स्वाभिमान, वीरता, र गौरवसँग गरियो। आम सर्वसाधारणहरू यो कुरामा विश्वस्त भए जुन आफैमा राम्रो कुरा पनि हो। लिपुलेक नेपालको हो भन्ने कुरामा कुनै शङ्का नै छैन तर यो प्रोपगाण्डा को सिकार भने भएकै हो। प्रोपगाण्डा कसरी भने, जब जब चुनाव आउँछ लिपुलेक कालापानी को मुद्दा बाहिर ल्याउने गरिएकै हो। यस पटक भने फरक परिस्थितिमा बाहिर आएको यो मुद्दा आउन नपाउदै सेलाइसक्यो। हाम्रै नेताहरूको अदूरदर्शिताले गर्दा भारतले हाम्रो जमिनमा पन्जा गाडेको हो।
४.TESTIMONIAL अर्थात् प्रशंसा पत्र
प्रचारबाजीको यो विधि व्यापारिक विज्ञापनमा बढी प्रयोग भएको पाइन्छ। यो विधिमा सार्वजनिक रूपमा ख्याति प्राप्त व्यक्तिहरू कुनै वस्तुको प्रशंसा गरेर त्यस वस्तुको प्रचार गरिदिन्छन्। प्राय यो विधि विज्ञापनको हकमा सफल रहने भए पनि असल जिन्दगीमा कहिलेकाहीँ उल्टिदिन्छ। वर्षा राउतको “मेरा इन्डियन साथीहरूलाई फेस गर्न गाह्रो भयो” भन्ने वाक्य विवादित हुनु यसकै उदाहरण हो। वर्षाले मिलेर जाऔँ भन्ने अर्थमा त्यस्तो भनेको हुनसक्छ तर उनलाई यो कुराको ज्ञान भएन कि कुनै सार्वजनिक रूपमा चर्चित व्यक्तिहरूले भनेका कुराहरू कु-प्रचार हुन सक्छन् । मलाइ के लाग्छ भने हामी सबैले जस्तै वर्षा पनि आफ्नो देशलाई उत्तिकै माया गर्छिन्। सार्वजनिक रूपमा बोल्न नजान्नु भने उनको गल्ती हुनसक्छ।
५. Plain Folks अर्थात् उस्तै देखिनु वा देखाउनु
राजनीतिक नेताहरू प्रचारबाजीको यो विधि बढी प्रयोग गर्दछन्। विशेषगरि चुनाव ताका नेताहरू गाउँ फर्किन्छन्, गाउँलेहरू जस्तै देखिन खोज्छन्, उस्तै पहिरन लगाउन खोज्छन् , र चुनाव पनि जित्छन्। कहिलेकाहीँ बाहुन नेता कुनै जाति विशेषको कार्यक्रममा गएर उनीहरूकै पहिरन लगाएर भाषण गरेको त हामीले देखेकै छौ। प्रचारबाजीको यो विधिबाट प्रचारबाजले म पनि तिमीहरूजस्तै हो भनेर देखाउन खोज्छन्।
६. Card Stacking अर्थात् गलत कार्ड फाल्नु
प्रचारबाजीको यो विधिमा प्रचार बाजले झुटो बोलेर, सत्य लुकाएर वा आधा सत्य देखाएर आफ्नो निजी स्वार्थमा निहित रहेर प्रचार गर्न खोज्छ। कतिपय विज्ञापनमा भनिएको हुन्छ, एक्स्पर्टले सुझाएको नम्बर एक ब्रान्ड । अब भन्नुहोस् कुन एक्स्पर्ट, कसरी नम्बर एक? हामी यो कुरामा आँखा चिम्लिएर विश्वास गर्छौ। त्यसैले त हामीले किन्ने प्राय सामान विज्ञापनमा बढी देखाइएकै वाला हुन्छ।
७. Bandwagon अर्थात् भेडो बनाउनु
प्रचारबाजीको यो विधि सर्वसाधारणमा बढी प्रयोग हुन्छ। यसमा प्रचार बाजहरूले “सबै गरिरहेका छन् त्यसैले तिमीले पनि गर” को अवस्था सिर्जना गरिदिन्छन्। चुनावको बेला ठुला राजनीतिक दलहरूले मात्रै चुनाव जित्नुको कारण यही हो। राजनीतिक दलहरूले चुनावताका यस्तो माहौल सिर्जना गरिदिन्छन्, चाहे त्यो भोज भतेर गरेर होस् या ठुला ठुला र्यालीहरु निकालेर होस् या पैसै बाँडेर होस् यस्तो माहौल बनाइदिन्छन् कि उनीहरूलाई समर्थन नगर्ने मान्छेलाई ढिलो चाँडो लाग्न थाल्छ “सबै गरिरहेका छन् मैले किन नगर्ने?” नेपालमा वेला बखतमा हुने विरोधहरू यो किसिमको प्रचारबाजीबाट प्रभावित हुन्छन्। जब कुनै किसिमको विरोध हुन्छ सबै खनिन्छन् तर केहिदिन पछि मूल मुद्दा नै सामसुम हुन्छ।
प्रचारबाजीका यी टेक्निकहरू हाम्रै वरिपरि प्रयोग भैरहेका हुन्छन्। यस्ता विधिहरू बाट हामीले हाम्रो निजी विचारलाई प्रभावित हुन दिनु हुँदैन। कुनै पनि निष्कर्षमा पुग्नु पूर्व समालोचनात्मक तरिकाले सोच्ने गरौँ। हामीले हाम्रो विचारलाई कुनै मास्टरमाइन्डको प्रोपगाण्डा बाट प्रभावित हुन दिनु हुँदैन।
प्रचारबाजीका यी टेक्निकहरू बाहेक विभिन्न डिस्कोर्सहरु, जस्तै फेमिनिज्म, रेसिज्म, कास्टिज्म आदि, को माध्यम बाट पनि प्रचारबाजी हुन सक्छ। उदाहरणका लागि रुकुमको घटनालाई हेरौँ जहाँ कास्टिज्मको डिस्कोर्स प्रयोग भइरहेको छ। विभिन्न माध्यमहरूबाट “बाहुन क्षेत्रीले दलितको हत्या गरेको” अर्थमा व्याख्या विश्लेषण भइरहेको छ तर हामीले यो वास्तविकता बिर्सनु हुँदैन कि आरोपित ठकुरी जातिका हुन् भने मृतकमा उपल्लो भनिएका जातका युवकहरू पनि छन्। यसको मतलब उक्त घटनामा जातीय विभेद नै छैन भन्ने पक्कै होइन। घटनाको जरो जातीय विभेद हुन पनि सक्छ- नहुन पनि सक्छ, स्वतन्त्र छानबिन पछि सत्य बाहिर आउने हो। मेरो विचारमा यो घटनालाई एउटा आपराधिक घटनाको रूपमा हेरी निष्पक्ष छानबिन गरी दोषीलाई कारबाही गर्नुपर्छ। हामीकहाँ त विज्ञ नै विज्ञ छन् जो सामाजिक सञ्जालमा दुई चिरामा विभाजित भएर आफ्ना तर्कहरू दिइरहेका छन्। हामीले अनावश्यक आ-आफ्नो तरिकाले मूल्याङ्कन गर्न थाल्यौँ र प्रचारबाजी गर्यौँ भने अर्कै सत्य निर्माण हुन सक्छ। यसले छानबिन प्रक्रियालाई नै प्रभाव पार्न सक्छ। दोषी उम्कन सक्छ, निर्दोषले सजाय पाउन सक्छ। सूचना आवश्यक छ तर प्रचारबाजी होइन।
