Buses on the pavements

The cab refuses to go any further. Mamu and I are let off where people are running helter-skelter. I fear for Mamu because her knees are stiff and she can't run. I hold her hand and make her rush, as though we'd changed places. And she follows me like a terrified heifer (and I think I must look like that in my own confusion).

A bus from the Swayambu Yatayat group has crushed five pedestrians. Three die immediately. Two are rushed to Om Hospital in Chabel, near where the accident took place. They were selling silouta (stone mortars and pestle) and radish. The seventeen year old girl who died was buying radish from Ranipauwa. The unidentified man was buying a silouta.

I lead Mamu under the bridge near Gopi Krishna. But the mob, like a herd of ants is quickly moving toward the bridge and I know I have to help her get away as soon as possible. So I drag her toward Om Hospital and head toward a relatives' place nearby.

As we move, the bus is torched, the mob shouts, sirens wail and so do the wounded.

The afternoon turns into evening as we wait for the mob to quiet down. But more buses are torched and riot police blank fires to disperse the mob. I'm compelled to walk first and then take a two hour long route instead of one, to my work place. Mamu has to stay back at our relatives.

Chabel is still tense today, two days after the accident.

It's not the first time buses like Swayambu Yatayat has killed pedestrians. But so what? They always get away with it. Government does not screen the age or details of the drivers manning public-buses. They are usually youngsters who graduated from conductors to drivers. And driving license is a thing for sale. The only thing that matter for these people operating buses is the number of passengers- because passengers are synonymous to money. And passengers are treated like "Gundruk" instead of human beings. And people still get on these buses because there is no other way to commute.