Revolution Books is a small chain of bookstores located on the west coast of the US and Hawaii. In the mecca of capitalism, this bookstore is unique because it supports communism and promotes and sells works by writers from around the world who rally for a communist revolution. Well, nosey by nature, I once stepped inside one of its stores in Honolulu to check what the big fuss was all about.
To my pleasant surprise, or shock, I found a huge portrait of Prachanda adorning the wall beside other revolutionaries like Lenin and Marx, Castro and Che. Beneath the gigantic black and white picture was the caption, 'Prachanda � the Brave One'. A corner of the bookshelf was devoted to books about the 'People's Revolution in Nepal' written by western authors I could not recognise.
For some reason, my heart swelled with pride for the glory that was heaped on Nepal in this tiny shop and I went to the lady behind the counter and proclaimed, "I am a Nepali. I am from Nepal!" This old lady looked at me as if she'd seen a real revolutionary for the first time and held my hand, exclaiming, "Oh, how nice to meet you. I LOVE Prachanda!" She then sat me down, ordered coffee and proceeded to ask me all kinds of questions about the 'brave one'. Had I ever met Prachanda? What was he like in real life? How did it feel to be born in a country that was a shining example around the world? Her feverish excitement did not allow me to interject. When another elderly lady walked in, I was introduced to her as "from Nepal, the land of Prachanda". Without asking me for my opinion they took me as their fellow comrade and invited me to a light lunch to share my revolutionary experiences with other 'fellas' of their community.
I politely declined the offer, thanked them for their kind words, and headed out. Out in the street, surrounded by touristy kitsch and corporate high rises, I wondered at the elderly ladies' fascination for communism. What did they understand by such heavy terms as communism and revolution? Were they serious or was it a retirement fetish, something to be fascinated by for a few months? Because the views of this bookstore would be considered an extremely tiny minority view in a country where the word communism can elicit the same fear in people as terrorism, the ladies' admiration for Prachanda seemed even more audacious.
But I felt sad. Sad at their naivet�. Prachanda is no longer the 'brave one'. Perhaps he never was. He, like all the others, has turned out to be just another petty politician. Nothing more.
Perhaps a trip to Nepal is in order for those two ladies.
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