Hep and happening nights of Thamel, Khatmandu-Nepal tidbit 5

Would you believe if I told you that Khatmandu, the capital of Nepal, has power cuts for 18 hours a day? Yes. It does.
And left with the choice of keeping shops open with generators on or simply downing shutters, most shop keepers choose the latter. And so, though we reached Khatmandu by road from Beni by nine, most shops had closed. We were booked at a hotel in Thamel, which we learnt was a very happening place in the city. However due to unavoidable circumstances of peak tourist season and cancellation of flights, we were accommodated in an alternative hotel for that night, with assurances of transfer to the original hotel by next morning.
The grouchy manager easily invited instant dislike from all of us. For some reason (Maybe because we were Indians and not Europeans or because we had initially booked elsewhere) he was inhospitable.
“The kitchen is closed for the day. You may have to get dinner from some restaurant,” he had said.
Dumping our luggages in our rooms, we hurriedly stepped out onto the streets of Thamel. For a moment the Thamel  street appeared to be too modest to be a hep and happening place. It was just a little more than an alley with more smaller alleys running off perpendicularly. I could imagine how the tiny shops would be spilling over their wares by daytime.
Just then, we lost the pilot group with the guide who was taking us to a suitable restaurant. The dim lights, so many cross roads and growling tummies did not help at all.
“Lets go off by ourselves and find a restaurant.”  And that was when I really began to look around. Looking up I saw rows and rows of neon sign boards of pubs, bars, discotheques-all so unassuming. A group of noisy Europeans, descended onto the street filling the small place, smoking  and talking animatedly as a couple of taxis waited with engines running. Two young women strutted by giggling …an  Asian in high spirits broke into a  loud song as he brushed past us…Unknown faces, strange behavior, dim streets, blinking sign boards…I suddenly seemed transported to some ghetto scenery in Hollywood movie…complete with an eerie soundtrack that had begun playing in my brain. Across the street there were more waiting taxis and the crowd got thinner and shadier…
“Is there a good restaurant around?” we finally managed to ask a lonely local who looked sane. He pointed across the road to a first floor place-“Hotel Gorkhaland. Nice…”he said with an accent. Wondering what vegetarian food we could get, we went up. The hotel was dim lit with a bar to the right and a stage before us.
We grabbed the menu cards at the dining table, ignoring the server who wanted us to sit on the sofas for a drink before transferring to the dining area. Veg Chowmein had been my staple diet during most of Nepal trip and I was sure they would have it. The hotel closed in half an hour and we were the only customers there. Just as we managed to quickly place our orders, the quiet air was disturbed by blaring music.
“Oh please,” I said beckoning the manger,” No music please-“ the rest of my words stuck within my throat as, at that moment a dancer suddenly materialized on the dance floor!
Overweight, painted face and gawdy lipstick; she was clad in a sheer off white saree and almost a backless red blouse. Twirling to the garrulous song, she entered much to my surprise and embarrassment at this unanticipated occurrence. “Oh! Please no dance…or music-“ but the manager and waiters had all disappeared from our sides and had parked themselves at convenient vantage points for uninterrupted entertainment.
I stole a glance at others. We were three women, three men and two children. The first group did not know where to look, the second looked where they were expected to and the kids couldn’t tear their eyes off the danseuse! Ok! What cannot be cured must be endured-be it in pain or pleasure. I thought and only then registered that it was a Bollywood song…”Oh la la  OO la la …tu hai mere fantasy….!”
On cue, a man, also withy painted face and red lips and sunshades, sheer cream shirt and tight white pants, jumped onto the stage form the left side. Wasn’t it such a suffering to watch the two dance to the horrible song only a few feet away from us when all we actually needed was rest to eyes and food for the tummy?! And so we sat, waiting for the song to get over, waiting more eagerly for the food to come. Luckinly the manager had judged us well. After the first dance, he did not hoist any more dancers on us and instead ordered them to play soft Buddhist music!
As we head back to our hotel, we notice police patrol along Thamel’s streets every few blocks. Two vagabonds had made a bonfire and were settling down to sleep on the pavement. A biker’s breath was being tested and a policeman with a scary sten-gun strutted across eyeing us. A woman passed by, smoking… taxis still lingered around as silence was slowly descending on the streets of dark Thamel.
The next day, we shifted hotel. To Naxol area of Khatmandu, which was more residential than Thamel could ever decently get!!

Thamel's street by day...so innocuous looking

Thamel by day...