When I see a muddy street in Kathmandu, I wonder when it will be fixed. The potholes have been a part of my city's identity. I have been waiting for my whole life, expecting to be fixed soon. "K garne!" It’s easy to sigh and say, “This is just how things are.” But, that acceptance and our quiet tolerance of mismanagement are precisely why the problem persists. Instead of demanding that it be fixed, many of us have adapted. We wear masks to survive the pollution, and accept potholes as part of our city. This normalisation of dysfunction is dangerous. It lowers our expectations of what our city and our leaders should deliver. When I go around Bhaisepati, the minister's quarters appear as a symbol of hate. I can't see those buildings made by the sweat of the citizens. The mud and waterlogs shadowing the lavish buildings made for the families of provincial heads is a reflection of what we deserve. The provincial heads are supposed to work in provincial capitals, an...
Monologue .......