Shopping for Illegal Fireworks in Kathmandu

We parked in a lot where a small child dug in the sand with a scrap of metal while supervising a toddler sized sibling.  Ramesh locked the car twice and we moved purposely towards our mission.

When I stepped in the car this morning I told Ramesh, “Today I’ll find some trouble.”  He looked at me dubiously and prodded for further explanation.  Ramesh is slight and thoughtful.  When we walk through the streets together there is a constant chatter surrounding us.  I asked Ramesh what onlookers say.  He smiled proudly and replied, “They think I am your personal body guard and you are very important.”  I had to laugh.  I tower over Ramesh by two inches and certainly outweigh him by several pounds.  Still, I have to admit he walks with a certain undeniable swagger. 

Today we are looking for fireworks used to traditionally celebrate Tihar.  Ramesh leads me over a foot bridge and through a maze of vendors who sell every possible object on blue slices of tarps lining the road.  One vendor sells socks, another plastic sandals, and another fake bullet proof vests. Our route winds behind buildings and an old hospital.  We walk through alleys and every step becomes more congested with people.

I follow Ramesh to a market hidden in between buildings and we walk into a crush of Tihar shoppers.  I  try to follow closely behind Ramesh because this markets seems infinitely more foreign than my own neighborhood.  It is a labyrinth of closet sized shops lining avenues no wider than two men standing shoulder to shoulder.  I cannot move.  The swarm of people hums around me but I am stuck in place by the crowd.  I instantly realize why people die in acts of mass hysteria.  Ramesh is moving quickly away and I put my forearm out to shove past people.  I learn this is not walking but some determined fight past the masses. 

While we push, Ramesh asks shop owners about fireworks.  They glance at us reluctantly.  Some refuse to speak only giving us a nod, “no.”  Finally we receive some information.  The police have made fireworks illegal this year.  It is a money making scheme. They seize fireworks claiming to promote public safety and resell them instead.  The shops on this road have been raided only a few minutes earlier.

We won’t be deterred.  Finally we find a young man with slick hair who claims to have only one box left.  Ramesh haggles but with me standing near his shoulder the man will not bargain.  We pay too much and the man slides them under a table rapped in a black plastic back.   We place them deep in our pockets and rush to the car.

We have been successful and we feel like the kings of Kathmandu as we drive out of the lot.  A dollar sized box with twelve candy shaped fireworks is our prized booty.   And we have the unmistakably free feeling shared by all who seek a little trouble.