Downsides Of Development

Wounds of development are everywhere as we follow a dirt road from Khaireni, Satyavati rural municipality in Gulmi to Johang. Northeastward from a crossing of the Angare stream is a warning on the wall. A landslide has been advancing towards the Mohoriya Gaun for decades, putting it under increased threat along with a bustling market of the yore called Tallo Hatiya, even when there’s not much development work going on. Up to Neta from the stream, it’s a smooth walk but motorable roads tend to be far more serpentine than foot trails. Keeping this in mind, we take to the path hardly taken these days—a short foot trail—only to find that it has fallen into disuse.

Hitting the dusty road again, we meet two government officials eager to know who we are and what business we have here. We come clean, they lament the lack of traffic, unaware that we enjoy trekking very much, but not along dirt roads that raise clouds of dust whenever a vehicle passes by. Struggling to avoid another onslaught of dust resulting from occasional traffic, we arrive at a rockfall-prone stretch at Chaundila, only to find more souls wanting to know about us and the purpose of our visit. From the woods of Chhidara, some birds seem to be asking the same question. Unable to respond for want of linguistic skills, we bask in, for a while, in the beauty of those woods in whose bosoms live a couple of houses, almost all of them deserted, in the midst of thriving flora and fauna. 

Between the dusty ‘civilisation’ hanging precariously on rocky formations and the wilderness, a waterfall gushes down as if it too wants to leave this idyllic place like humanity, perennially in search of you don’t know what. The woods beckon but we have no time to take a detour. Take a detour for what? Meditation? Horticulture? Animal husbandry? For studying wildlife? Didn’t we part ways with our lush-green village in our formative years for ‘developing’ our full potentials? What use is there thinking about the road not taken now? 

The woods beckon but this journey appears to be quite hard a homework for a lazy student, something that needs completing at the earliest. So we rush through that risky stretch, reach Mathillo Hatiya, another bustling marketplace of the yore, and arrive at the ancestral home made of mud, stones and slates that’s barely standing, thanks to years of neglect along with quakes, rains and marauding monkeys.  On our journey to the countryside where roads have become synonymous with development, we see wounds of development everywhere. Several stretches appear to be disasters in waiting. Come monsoon rains and those hillocks hanging precariously will cave in, for sure. Rocky stretches with hanging boulders are another nightmare. 

Planners, engineers, political leaders and cadres will benefit if they get to repair the same every year, but what of the taxpayers? What of the environment? What of the people at the receiving end, including the ordinary road users and landowners facing displacement because of development works? Two days later, as we return towards our respective work stations, the same mountains seem to be asking: There must be a better way of developing instead of inflicting wounds on us year after year after year?