Articles & Publications

Nepal can learn from countries like Rwanda on how good planning and execution are a must.

For the people who travel a lot for work and leisure like myself, the stress of not being able to travel has been one of the biggest ordeals during the pandemic. In Nepal, air connectivity that started to proliferate in the early 2000s made it easier to hop on a plane to New York or London than to plan a trip to Mahendranagar or Taplejung. The seamless connections provided by many carriers, and the perks that came with frequent flier memberships, made air travel something to look forward to.

Reading and watching movies on the plane, deleting emails and photos from phones and laptops in the airport lounges, connecting with people who are in different time zones while you wait for your plane, and just watching the hustle and bustle of an airport became part of life. Suddenly, a journey became the most stressful thing to plan. When commercial flights are not available, planning charter flights is a nightmare. Regardless of whatever online platforms may do for you, a trusted travel agency is a must during these times; for me, my travel agency spent five times longer than my actual trip time helping me get on a flight. In these trying times, there are countries that want to use control as a means of dealing with issues, and then there are other states than want to be known for how they facilitate travel.

International hubs

Countries like Dubai and Singapore know a good part of their economy depends on being a transit point for air passengers. They are quick to get processes right and make people feel welcome. Unlike our police, who, it seems, are trained to behave very rudely with people, using their power to control citizens, security personnel at international hubs are there to facilitate your journey. They are there to answer questions.

We do not find rude officers like those found at the Kathmandu airport gate at these hubs, where security also means etiquette and protocol. While many pictures of our new-look airport are flashed in the media, since the infrastructure is not planned well from an operations perspective, it will start to crumble soon. For instance, just having nine places that indicate social distancing will not control a crowd of 200 people. The way people were stuffed inside the buses that take you to the aircraft, there is no sense of physical distancing unlike in Dubai where the buses had designated places to sit and stand. Since most of the planning is done by people who never use normal channels for travel, and go through the VIP lounge formally or informally, and the bulk of the people who are executing the work have never been on a plane, the challenges in Nepal are immense.

Rwanda is one of the first countries to declare that they are open to tourists since the pandemic was declared. People can come on their own charter flights or the commercial flights that have re-started. They knew they can make good facilitation and service a comparative advantage—continuing to push their image as an emerging hub in Africa. Qatar Airways has invested in the new international airport slated to open in 2022, and plans to invest in the national airline. They are looking at 2035-40 to get to the leadership position.

The information that exists is very simple and is communicated very well. Before taking the trip, one needs to upload information on to a Passenger Locator Form that acts as a control number with a QR code for any tracing. The itinerary and test results need to be uploaded. One has to book into a hotel to stay for testing, and for 24 hours before one gets the results; there are many options at different price points. There is no ambiguity in the rules. At the airport, one is greeted by a robot that can scans your temperature and checks whether you are wearing your mask properly. You then get into the coach of the designated hotel and check-in. The tests are done at the hotels, as part of the service the hotel provides, and the results come through by email. Once you test negative, you are free to move to the designated place you intended to stay in. There is still a curfew in Rwanda from 7 pm to 5 am, there are still restrictions. But there is a sense of the situation being under control in contrast to Nepal.

Sticking to the rules

During the pandemic, most of the strain is psychological. There are hand washing units at every place you can imagine—even at public bus stops. If people are travelling by moto-taxi, they have hand sanitiser dispensers. People are also advised to carry a piece of cloth to put on top of one’s head before putting on the helmet provided by the driver, in case you are not wearing one.

Restaurants are open, with social distancing, and can operate at 30 percent capacity. The bars are closed, but alcohol is served in case you order food, and there are rules on how much alcohol you can order along with which part of the food menu. At one outlet I went to, they can serve up to two small bottles of beer with an appetiser, and three small bottles with the main course. There are people who are checking whether these rules are being adhered to, and they wear a coat stating they are ‘Wellness Ambassadors’. A violation of the rules will accrue a heavy fine. Not wearing a mask right is around $3, violating physical distancing rules $10, breaking the curfew will cost you $250 with an overnight stay at the local stadium (still adhering to social distancing), and hosting parties at home in excess of the stipulated norms will set you back $1,000. The list goes on.

With the pandemic creating a new normal, it is all about emerging with a perception that the country is safe and managing well. The country that can manage this will be the new destination for tourism, investment and economic activities. Nepal needs to learn from countries like Rwanda on how good planning and execution are a must. 

***

The way the government functions is a reflection on Nepali society.

Pouring frustration over how the government functions has become commonplace of life in Nepal. Not criticizing the government, given its performance, is undoubtedly a test of patience—as if this act of restraint shows how one has mastered the basics of meditation. But Nepalis shouldn’t be surprised at the current state of affairs. The government has just done what Nepali society across the spectrum generally chooses to do, particularly in three key areas.

Politicking over planning

Nepalis are by nature political beings. Therefore, it is not surprising that the government chose politicking over planning when preparing its response against the pandemic. When the first person known to have been infected by the novel coronavirus entered Nepal from Wuhan in January, and the government subsequently evacuated Nepalis from Wuhan, the country knew exactly what we had to be prepared for. Yet, the preparations were underwhelming.

The people in charge instead thought that the situation lent an opportunity for them to consolidate power, get at their foes and, of course, make money in this bargain. So, we lost eight months time that could have gone into making ready an effective response. But this is not very different than any social or professional event in Nepal. Nepalis tend to hold the politics around an event, whether a wedding or a conference, as being more important than the event itself.

Someone assigned to do some important task will never deliver till the last minute. Many are happy to sabotage the event rather than see it go well for others. Politicking has even crept into the protocols firms and organisations set in place to work from home during the lockdowns. Discussions and bargaining over what computers to buy and how much to spend on a board member’s house, apparently to enable the person to work effectively, became more important than discussions on how best to serve customers and beneficiaries during this period.

Communication mishaps

Last week, Nepali passengers inbound from Dubai were suddenly told that their flight had been cancelled due to orders in Nepal—after they had already arrived and waited patiently at the Dubai airport to come home. Yet, no one has been held accountable for this mess. Even the way the restrictions imposed to control the infection spread has been coated in lies. The opening up of the first round of lockdown had little to do with an improvement in the Covid-19 situation and more to do with the requirements imposed by the Supreme Court and the need to collect taxes. But the way it was announced gave people a false sense of security. Many got on with their lives, trusting that the situation must have improved greatly for the federal government to be so lax. But all of this only led to a spike in infections, a jump in the death toll, and a reimposing of the lockdown. Funnily enough, even though everyone knows the current situation is a return of the lockdown, the government has avoided to call it that.

Through the US company Bower Group Asia, we have been tracking government communication across Asia. The way communication has been one-sided and top-down in Nepal is a remnant from the Panchayat system that this government has chosen to continue. This top-down approach is not something unique to the government; many organisations continue to function in this way.

No experts, please

A culture where ‘afno manche’ (a person with close connections) is preferred to a ‘ramro manche’ (good or able person) is bound to create a cult where experts are not needed. The government, even after eight months, is still to create a body of experts who understand each dimension of the challenge the country faces. Seeking expert advice is not a very well-recognised trait among Nepalis. Soothsayers and religious gurus have a deeper influence on decisions.

While we are quick to blame the government for not having plans, we have also been learning just how ill-prepared firms and institutions are. The private sector players, too, have not thought it necessary to get experts to help them with crisis management or plan for the difficult times ahead. Many of the self-labelled intellectuals have spent time salivating at the opportunities this pandemic has given them to share their views on video and in print. There has hardly been a concrete push from civil society to get the government to understand how dire the situation really is. Any comment on these groups becomes personal, as one is either labelled a biased supporter of a rival party, an anti-national or the stooge of a foreign power (this one comes in many flavours, and one can be labelled as being in the employ of India, China or the US, to name the most popular).

There is little hope that the larger picture on how government and organisations in Nepal will change, but the transformation can come from reflecting at an individual level. Each of us needs to ask ourselves some basic questions. Do I communicate well? Do I listen to experts, and do I know who they are? Am I prone to pick politicking and favouritism over sound planning? If we at the individual level change ourselves and the organisations and societies that we are associated with transform, surely the way politicians and the government at all levels act will also change. Let the reflection and transformation journey begin. 

Libraries help to develop and preserve intellectual capital in society.

Last week, a report in the Post on the stalled construction of the public library at Jamal caught my attention. It is an issue close to my heart, yet something I have not been able to do much about. I always tend to reflect on the behavioural and systemic issues around libraries. I personally grew up spending lots of times at libraries on school holidays, even as my friends spent time at playing grounds and later on in makeshift video parlours or rooms with pool tables.

I used to be fascinated by the type of books, in Newa and other languages, at my Baha in Patan. Of course, religion dominated these tomes, and books published in the name of the deceased had more ritualistic and ceremonial value over readability. It is a wonder we as a society do not value libraries more, given that Nepal housed some of the oldest civilisations in Asia. Perhaps some of this is attributed to oral traditions, where knowledge, folklore and history were transferred orally from one generation to the other, and never documented like in neighbouring China, where archiving has been important.

Booze over books

This also used to make me ponder about aspirations one should have. Bollywood movies were a big influence on our generation, and being able to have a good bar at the house displaying different imported alcohol became something to aspire for. When I used to visit relatives who were more economically well off, they never showed off their library or their book collections—they showed off their bar and alcohol collection. Many of us grew up with this aspiration and having a good bar in the living and dining room became a priority over having a nice library to show off. Therefore, collectively, we enjoyed visiting expensive fancy watering holes; of course, a society that does not believe in keeping a book collection at home would not fight for public libraries.

What is intriguing is that though this influence from popular culture should have waned as people got more educated, we still haven’t seen a stronger voice call out for more public libraries. This, perhaps, is due to our degree-focused education. In a country where one can easily obtain materials, such as theses, to graduate without actually doing the work, there naturally is a subdued interest in visiting the library. Moreover, some people have converted the concept of the public library into a very elite affair, making it difficult for the normal public to be at ease to access these temples of information.

Lessons from travels

It is only when I started travelling outside Nepal when I realised that public libraries are a concrete possibility, and not linked with money or economic might. Rather, the availability of such public resources depends on how much society values knowledge and how much it encourages curiosity. When I attended the Jaipur Literature Festival 2019, hosted at the Boulder Public Library in Boulder, Colorado, I was stumped by the energy that space had; I pined for such a space in Nepal. Coming back, when I wrote about it, many people were quick to remind me of the space limitations for such a building in the Kathmandu Valley. Yet, in Singapore, arguably the country with the biggest concern for space, they have constructed a library on the fourth floor of a shopping mall in the bustling high street that is Orchard Road.

In Kigali, Rwanda, the biggest addition I have seen since my first visit in 2012 has been the Kigali Public Library—an initiative of the Rotary Club of Kigali-Virunga. In Nepal, however, the Rotary Club has decided instead to build a multi-storied commercial complex on the public land gifted to them. While we are very quick in blaming the government, the problem lies in each one of us. Perhaps we need to take interest in looking at the top 20 public libraries in the world with the same interest as we look at best clubs and bars in the world.

Time for action

In the past decade, publications from Nepal have grown tremendously. Further, more Nepalis have been writing for international publications. Moreover, the concept of libraries and reading rooms is changing—they are turning into virtual spaces. Café culture is a key indicator of a market that is ready for public spaces for discourse. Online platforms like Bookaholics have during the lockdown attracted much attention and interest for people wanting to interact with books. In a recent conversation with Manisha Koirala, she agreed that ‘a city is incomplete without a good library’. She lamented that Nepal has not been able to convert some historical buildings—and we have so many—into libraries, as many other countries have.

Perhaps we need to build a 21st-century library that will be technologically driven and that also provides public space for discourses and learning. The issue is not about buildings or funds, the change that is required is in the dominant mindset. We are ideating on the next steps—do join and let us make public libraries, not only in the Kathmandu Valley but even in small towns throughout the country, a reality.

It is high time society began to think about funeral parlours and organ donations.

Whenever a death occurs in the immediate family, people usually tend to reflect on the loss and connect their own lives to that of the deceased. When people witness a body being consumed by flames—a great equaliser—they also tend to reflect on their own end. Many also engage in discussions on the need for particular rituals or restrictions.

Recently, as I was on the way to a crematorium, I noticed multiple signages touting the services of hair salons, or ‘beauty parlours’. Even half a century ago, almost all the people in the profession of personal grooming belonged to one particular caste. Even when the diversity increased, the profession continued to be looked down upon. In the last few decades, however, such salons have mushroomed across the country; caste is not a barrier, and neither is the profession considered lowly.

Coming from the Newa community, there was a need for a caste called nau:to perform some rituals. But this, too, is vanishing. Many of the younger generations may not even recall the professions of their grandparents. Seventeen years ago, when my father passed away, I was living in the US. I came back to Nepal then for a short period to complete the necessary rituals before flying back. A month later, my friend, who is of Indian origin, lost his father. All the necessary rituals, in this case, were carried out in the funeral home and cremation centre. I found that funeral to be a graceful affair and had then penned a column on how Nepal, too, needs funerary reforms. Seventeen years on, people have embraced progress and consumerism as a part of life—in beauty parlours, for example. Yet, funerals are by and large the same as they have been for decades, if not more.

There are, however, some areas of change worth mentioning. At Sankhamul, for instance, Newas from all castes are cremated in one inclusive centre. It seems to be a recent, and good, development wherein Shakyas and Bajracharyas are willing to share their last rites with others without any fuss. In the recent funeral that I attended, I appreciated the whole concept of Guthis set up especially to take care of death rituals. Yet, as I saw the younger generation struggling with the basics, I also saw the need to rethink the use of professionals to complete the rituals, instead of relying on community members.

There used to be a specific caste, supposedly very low, that used to take care of the final cremation, but they are not there anymore. And surely the youth do not want to do it. So it makes sense to look to open up this aspect of life to a commercial set-up, too. If cremation centres become centrepieces of a settlement, surrounded by houses, restaurants, cafes and banquet halls, the only option is to go electric and ensure that there is no usage of wood and no smoke.

When a death occurs close to us, it is but natural to reflect on the self and think about our own final journey, however far it may be. In leadership discourses, I continue to ask people to reflect on one’s epitaph as Stephen Covey mentions in his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I believe that people should opt more to donate their bodies for science; medical colleges are always in need of human specimens for teaching purposes. For this to organically occur, there must be reforms on two fronts.

First, there have to be legal provisions for people wanting to register a will, that outlines not only their last wishes on their property and body but the archives they have built, their collection of books or other material objects they have accumulated. The recent fiasco concerning maps and treaties further shows us the importance of compiling and archiving documents from a variety of sources. Money and financial assets are the easier portions to will out, but everything else requires a more structured legal framework.

Second, we need to bring in provisions to push for organ donations. The hundreds being cremated each day across Nepal can give life and sight to many hundreds more. A country where people are so proud to chant the slogan ‘Buddha was born in Nepal’ may not find it that difficult to make eye donations mandatory by law. The potential gift of sight to someone else, after all, is a compassionate gesture that would surely have Buddha approve.

Further, with technological advancement and the possibility of transplants in Nepal, more people should volunteer to give permission for their organs to be removed for transplantation. This will go on to save many lives. If one cannot renounce pieces of oneself once one dies, it is hard to believe that these people will give away anything when they are living. In the predominant religions of Nepal, Hinduism and Buddhism, giving is always revered in the context of creating good karma. The current crop of leadership across many fields, who are closer to making this a reality than the youth, must lead by example.

Nepal needs to understand the realities of the 21st century. It needs to move forward, not backward.

It would be interesting to stalk the homes of leaders across society with a hidden camera. I am tempted to find out how they spend their days. Who makes their tea in the morning? How do they spend their leisure time? What does family time mean for them? What is the role of women in their homes? How differently do they treat their daughters from their sons? I also wonder how daughters-in-law are treated in these homes, and whether, if earning, they have financial independence. When these households have guests, are the men and women allowed to mingle or are they segregated? These questions are important, given the current citizenship discourse and given the views of the leaders in society. Here, unfortunately, I mean the men in positions of influence and not just political leaders.

Understanding history

Before the Second World War, and until the arrival of cheap commercial air travel, global travel was unrestricted. If a Nepali stepped outside the borders of the Kathmandu Valley, the world opened up for him (the male pronoun here is apt, given how this generally applied only to Nepali men). Stepping into British territory meant one could seamlessly travel from current-day Afghanistan to Malaysia. They could settle down, own property and live a life that was during the Rana regime better elsewhere than in Nepal. Nepalis could even own property in Tibet, and it was only when one had to move across the borders of Tibet to China that paperwork was necessary. Nepalis had the great privilege of being plugged into the biggest economic power during that time, the British Empire, and much of the wealth of many Nepali families comes from the money they gained in Burma (present-day Myanmar), India and Tibet.

However, while Nepalis were free to travel abroad and engage in economic activities, at home, and particularly in the Kathmandu Valley, outsiders were restricted. Even people from the Tarai had to take permits to enter the Valley. This mindset of people from Madhes being outsiders remained in the heads of people in the late 20th century, and still carries over today. Similarly, due to the religious conservatism, foreigners—especially people with Caucasian features who were believed to be consumers of beef—were considered untouchables. There was stigma and fear against the ‘kuhire’ that only waned as more and more Nepalis became mercenaries for foreign armies, showing how lucrative this venture could be. The rulers and elites not only began to accept their paymasters then but treated them to lavish hunting expeditions and showered gifts on them.

The hypocrisy, of course, is that even as Nepalis began to settle in different parts of the world, they continued to impose restrictions on ‘outsiders’ settling in Nepal, no matter how beneficial such settlers could be to Nepal. Perhaps this is in the DNA of Himalayan kingdoms, as Tibet, Ladakh and Sikkim—now a part of either of Nepal’s two neighbours—also had similar restrictions. Apart from the Kirat kings that ruled Nepal, the Lichhavi, Malla, Shah and Rana rulers all trace their origin to India. Yet, Nepalis spend so much time trying to discern who is Indian and who is Nepali. Perhaps we were never sure of the intent of the citizenship policies. Bhutan continues to have a hardliner stance on outsiders; the country has taken harsh actions to keep its narrow definition of what it means to be Bhutanese intact. But no matter how willful or stubborn the attempts have been, the reality is that the people of all these Himalayan countries, past and present, have a diverse genetic makeup, owing to movements in history.

Women remain second-class

The dominant Buddhist and Hindu cultures both treat women differently than men. The citizenship discourse, therefore, becomes male-dominated. Even women who manage to take on key roles tend to find it easier to promote male-dominated patriarchy rather than really push for the elevation of women. I have seen how women leaders treat their daughters and sons differently; the son-in-law becomes such an important figure at the cost of the daughter. The men in key positions do not seem to have women friends who they are not in a relationship with, so cannot understand women outside of a very narrow role. In the family of former rulers and nobles, it was convenient to treat women as objects of desire or as glorified slaves at home; women in these homes helped to propagate these roles, despite themselves having suffered so much. Has the role of the women really changed in the families who control the corridors of power? Unlike in the West, very little of the lives of powerful men are exposed in the public sphere here. So, the way these men treat the women around them is obscured.

We have seen that the quality of a woman’s life in Scandinavian countries is so different than the quality of a woman’s life in the Gulf countries, despite both regions having the same high level of income. Studies have shown that countries that treat women as second-class citizens are behind in overall human development, especially innovation. At the end of the day, it is the woman who gives birth to a child and rears the child. Nepal needs to understand the realities of the 21st century. It needs to move forward, not backward. Otherwise, as one journalist pointed out, we may end up being like Saudi Arabia, where we all know how the state and its citizens view women.

Through peaceful and smart protests around the country, the youth have demanded a structural transformation. It should be perceived by a warning bell by all of society.

A youth, out of frustration, started a group on Facebook called ‘Covid-19 Nepal: Enough Is Enough!’. When I first came to know of the page, it had 500 members. In just a week, the number has swelled to over 180,000. From the outset, the group has called for protests against governance, not for a change of government. It has demanded accountability on the public money spent and questioned the manner in which the federal government handled the pandemic.

The people venting their disapproval now are very different from the usual protesting crowd. This group definitely departs from the image that party workers project; politically backed protestors in Nepal seem to think that the more furious the mob looks before a camera, the more effective the protests. But the protestors currently demanding change are not the kind to burn tyres or destroy vehicles and property. What happened recently was a departure from the youth vandalism we see in the streets in the name of protest.

It is common in Nepal to spend years in college and university to ensure one keeps a position in the unions. The student unions have in the past competed over who could be more violent or forceful. They received patronage from political leaders as many of them later became leaders in mainstream politics because of their superb track record of their triumph of politics over education. There are only a few exceptions to this rule. Yet, the recent protestors were not visibly tied to any such student unions.

Global Nepalis

In Unleashing the Vajra, I have described the type of people currently showing dissent as the ‘Global Nepalis’. Nepalis who want their world to be the best any youth can have anywhere in the world. They grew up with education taught in the English language; therefore, they are exposed to more writings and global platforms such as TED and Medium. They know of the latest trends in coffee. They listen to music that is globally trending—which can include music as diverse as K-pop or an obscure band from Africa. They watch well-developed productions on YouTube and have subscriptions to Netflix and Amazon Prime Video. They know where to download the books they need or want. They want to compete with their peers throughout the world. Therefore, when one looked at the pictures of demonstrators squatting on the road, it was no different than the youth in Amsterdam, London or Los Angeles.

This is the new force in Nepal to reckon with. In this country, we forget that 50 percent of the voters are women. We forget that the youth under 25 comprises of half of our population and people under 35 make up for 70 percent. However, out of the 6 percent of the people above 65, we have seen the 2 percent males rule in all sectors. Many of the protestors that I talked to shared how their parents or elderly family members did not understand what the dissent is about. Perhaps this is not a movement against the government, but a movement against the status quo.

There were political leaders and others who were quick to label this as an elitist movement, of the privileged English-speaking people (as most banners and posts in the group were in English). Comments on what they were wearing and what they were carrying became pointers to say they were outliers. However, when a single cause spreads to all cities across the country, it should be perceived as an alarm bell that must be heeded. In 2015, Blair Glencorse and I wrote an opinion article for The New York Times, ‘Shaking Up The Status Quo In Nepal’ which touched on this. The youths here can be a productive force to shake up the state of things. They can bring about big transformations, as the Arab Spring did in the Middle-East and North Africa. The next round of elections being just two years away, it will be important for not only the government but all political parties to think about how they will address the demands of these youth.

Unleashing transformation

My book Unleashing Nepal was about a corporate executive wanting to use money, investment and management skills to transform Nepal. This became the base of my arguments for change in Arthat Arthatantra, my first book in the Nepali language. In Unleashing the Vajra, I end with the need for social transformation to realise economic transformation. Many of my columns in the past year have focused on individual transformation. This week, my second Nepali book, Arthat Pariwartan, is being launched. It explores the way we need to change how we look at Nepal and Nepalis. I talk extensively about the potential of the global Nepalis who are there to take on the world. All that is needed from society is a change in perception. These young people who took up to social media and the streets inspired the team behind Arthat Pariwartan to push the launch forward—in an e-book format that the youth can relate to, with audio embedded so that readers can listen along. Moreover, readers have a choice to buy and read separate chapters or the entire book.

Change is inevitable, but it is always important to be on the right side of change. One has to learn and change to be able to have the credibility to talk about change. 

Many have witnessed positive change at the individual level during the lockdown. The key is to sustain this growth even after a return to the normal.

I am an early riser. I go from a state of rest to one of activity fairly quickly, making a lot of noise going up and down the wooden staircase or opening and closing doors; that is, until my family members brought this to my attention. Perhaps the noise generated when opening or closing doors is a small matter, but it provides huge lessons in humility. In the sixty or so days of lockdown, the noise levels have been practically eliminated; the family does not know my day has begun. The lessons I learnt from this small exercise in change was important in the household, as have other small but important lessons learnt during this time. These sixty days of moments of learning about oneself could not have been bought—even by paying millions of dollars. It prompted me to design a programme about internalising and implementing change, which I conducted over webinars voluntarily to groups inside and outside Nepal.

Self-critique is difficult

In a country where people find digression in discussing maps and politics, it is very hard to focus on one’s life. I found some interesting reactions during the webinars I had conducted. There were people, particularly women, who were having tremendous difficulty in juggling the supervision of children for online lessons, managing husbands who are seeing kitchen sinks for the first time in their lives and the needs of demanding parents and in-laws. Some did not know how best to use their free time—many indulged excessively on the internet and got frustrated with an overload of news reports. Some, even with the security afforded to them with stable jobs in international organisations, world-class health insurance and the privilege of mobility in vehicles that are allowed to move during the lockdown, would not stop complaining.

Yet many more will go to great lengths to not analyse their personal lives; they would rather find distractions and escape from reality. So, questions on Nepali politics, the future of capitalism, the border issues and the government’s response continued to feature despite requests to focus on the individual. An organisation leader who joined in on a webinar with his team said he was interested to learn about the economic impacts of Covid-19. I, of course, reminded him of the reason the programme—a voluntary exercise—was created and told him there was enough material to read on his subject of interest outside the webinar. The leader was upfront after that—he did not feel comfortable sharing his personal experiences in public, especially not in front of his team. In a society where conservatism rules and mental health is seldom discussed, discussing personal challenges and self-change are seen as taboo subjects. People are happy to advise others but less open to self-critique.

A volatile world

One of the greatest joys of this lockdown has been to connect with scholars I would not have otherwise been discussing issues with and learning different ways in which people are coping with this change in different parts of the world. Professor Jack McCarthy of Babson College introduced me to the concept of the VUCA world—a world that is going to be volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous. He not only shared with me the different aspects of this new world but provided a solution to convert the VUCA into an action-oriented response. The response being vision, understanding, clarity and agility which is so critical in the way we look at the post-Covid-19 world. Eliza Ryan, author of bestseller Supermindful: How to Tap Into Your Creativity guided me to look at the tree differently. She talked about how we can think of ourselves as a tree; we can deepen our roots and we can branch out more. This can be seen on how some people managed to complete online courses, learn languages, learn baking or cooking new dishes, playing online games with families and connecting with people they had not talked to for decades. The response to the crisis and the uncertainty that will unfold can be only managed by analysing the self to understand the changes that are needed at a personal level to meet the uncertainties of the times.

Sustaining the changes

The questions people ask at these sessions mainly focus on whether people will be able to sustain the positive changes. Women ask me whether their husbands who are doing some amount of household chores will continue to do so. Will men who were used to going out with friends continue to spend time with family? Will families continue to watch movies or series together? A popular question was whether the meditation people have been accustomed to, through online groups, will continue when things go back to normal. Perhaps the biggest challenge will be to sustain the positive changes one had brought about at the individual level. Many worry that, much like the clear blue skies, the silence, and the clear air which may regress after the enforced lockdown is over, personal changes may also be short-lived.

Human transformations take place through awareness; if one has to sustain the changes, one has to become aware of the transformations that have taken place. There will be no drastic changes in people, but change is always incremental. All of us who have made those positive incremental changes will need to preserve and build on it, as they will surely help to build better families, societies and nations.

https://tkpo.st/2TZrubT