This small park lies tucked behind the huge billboards at the Thapathali bend as you come to Tripureshwor from Kopundole. If you happen to be there during midday, it’s eerily deserted and reminds you of some forgotten place. But come late afternoon, and it wakes up to the gatherings of local elderly folks, and for two years now, to the rapt games of chess aficionados – from amateurs to national players.
Originally though, the area was designed as a children’s park – a side project that the Japanese contractors took over when they were building the Thapathali Bridge during 1994-1996. However, as the land belonging to the Kalmochan Guthi adjoined the Das Naami Akhadas, one of the oldest shelters for Hindu jogis or saints in Kathmandu, the area was transformed into a public park for the jogis and locals alike, with a Shiva temple right in the middle.
Thought it still remains officially unnamed, people now call it the Chess Park for the reason that there’s always a game or two of chess going on at some corner with fully absorbed players and equally engrossed audience.
Who and what brought these people together to this particular place?
One man – Bharat Dhimal – and his love for the game is credited by many for giving the overlooked place its new identity.
Robust looking, Dhimal was initially appointed as a caretaker for the park. But he had more entrepreneurial skills which he wanted to explore. He then turned his sentry post into a teashop with the permission from the Guthi Sansthan and started his business. During leisure time at the shop, he would always have his chessboard out.
And so the games began. Initially, it was just him and his friends or his customers playing against each other. Eventually, he started playing with new customers – ones who were up for the challenge, as he was known to be unbeatable.
“When I started playing with the people here, no one could beat me,” says Dhimal humbly, with his eyes lowered most of the time. “Then the talk spread. I was introduced to player groups outside and more people came to the park to challenge me for a game. Eventually I lost a game or two but then it added to the fun.”
The park slowly became a regular hangout for the players. During the starting phase, Dhimal would provide as many chessboards he had, but soon players also started bringing their own boards. They would spend their entire evenings playing chess and enjoying Dhimal’s tea.
At one corner of the park, two finely dressed gentlemen with their sling bags at their side are coming to an end of their game. Another gentleman in similar attire watches the game or/and waits for his turn. Dhimal introduces them as three of the most regular players in the park and also rated national players.
Laxman Regmi looks up from his game and says, “I’m very interested in chess. We try to come here almost daily from our college. Our family doesn’t even approve of this, but it’s something we love.”
All three of them, professors at different colleges, say they spend two or three hours playing chess or till it gets dark.
“If this place had lights, we’d probably stay longer,” says Mohan Singh Pradhan, resting his arm on his sling bag.
A national player, Pradhan says the game engages your mind; cleanses it off of any kind of pollution and prevents it from being destructive. A devoted promoter of chess, Pradhan says that for his father’s first death anniversary, he even organized a national chess tournament instead of the regular ritual.
Chess devotees like Pradhan often visit the park for a game among friends. They also play against new people for new challenges.
As if to prove his point, Gyanendra Khaiju, international arbiter or referee for chess games, drops by to announce a chess tournament in the planning for players above the age of 50. After some excited “hello”s and “long time no see”s, Khaiju starts signing people up for the tournament, and the conversation goes on for over ten minutes or so.
“This park, you see, is a great place to play chess and meet new players. Even though it’s at the roadside, it’s very peaceful here, and moreover, it’s accessible to all,” says Pradhan. After a moment of thought, he adds,” However, as there are no facilities like toilets and lights in this place, it becomes a bit of a problem when we have to leave our unfinished games.”
Dhimal says that he has requested Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) office many times to build a public toilet near the entrance of the park but hasn’t heard back yet.
“Daily, thousands of people pass by this place, and there’s not a single public toilet around here. It’ll not only be useful for the park visitors but also other people too.”
Later, when The Week asked about how KMC maintained public parks in Kathmandu, Rabindra Man Shreshta, Chief of Environment Management Division at KMC, said that they normally look after the parks along roadsides such as Ratna Park. Besides, most other parks in Kathmandu are maintained by their respective communities.
“In the case of the park in Thapathali, firstly, it’s a Guthi-owned land which doesn’t fall under our jurisdiction,” says Shrestha. “But the ward office of the area and the locals can request for any kind of repair works and KMC will decide if it can fund the project according to the budget allocation and priority.”
For certain aspects of the park, though, such as broken walls, dying trees and untended weeds, Dhimal says the Kalmochan Guthi must be involved.
“The huge hoarding boards and their pillars have tainted the beauty of the park. That tree withered and died right in front of my eyes because of the wires that have been strung around it for the extra support for these billboards,” says Dhimal, pointing to the lifeless tree on the right of the park entrance.
Mahanta Ramananda Giri, who manages the allowances for the jogis of Das Naami Akhara and the park, says they clean up the area together.
“However, we don’t get any separate allowance for the park’s maintenance. Only a minimal amount of Rs 1,500 is set for the caretaker (Dhimal) which, too, probably comes from the Japanese maintenance fund set up when the park was first built,” says the Mahanta.
Over at the shabby quarters that house the Guthi Sansthan Branch Office of Kathmandu in the premises of Kal Mochan, Harinath Dhakal, its assistant administrator, says they work on the maintenance as much as their resources permit.
“The Guthi Sansthan has allocated a certain sum for the area, and Mahanta Giri has been getting the allowances. Besides, if there’s any problem, they can definitely make an appeal from their side and we can forward the request over to the main office in Charkhal,” says Dhakal.
The park, meanwhile, doesn’t seem to get any help. If you shift your gaze from the chess games, you’ll see that the benches are shaky, the walls are covered with green moss, and overall, the park isn’t really in a good shape.
Despite all that, it’s with the help of the regular chess players who visit the place that Dhimal has been trying to maintain and improve what remains of the park. He shares that the wood used for the canopy for his teashop was given to him by one of the players in the park. Similarly, when he dug a well to provide water for people in the park, he had the support of the same group. Yet there are several obstacles.
As Dhimal sips tea at his own shop prepared by his daughters who help him out, he points at the people seated on two long parallel logs watching over a game of chess. Another sip and he proceeds, “After the Rato Machhendranath was dismantled this year; the logs from the chariot were dumped here without prior notice. We moved the shorter ones and used them for seating but the longest one, which now blocks the entrance, makes it very hard for old people to walk over to the park.”
As it is too heavy to move, the log of the sacred chariot still lies there. “We can’t even cut it because people say it holds religious values,” Dhimal sighs.
As it begins to get dark, people slowly start scattering. Dhimal, still sipping his tea, then shares a dream idea he has for the park. He once saw on TV a place somewhere that he cannot remember, but it had a huge chessboard made on the floor and the chess pieces were almost half the human size. The players would sit at their ends, and another person would move the chess pieces for them.
“Since then, I have always wanted to make something similar right here. The thought of what do I do to make that happen, how I do it, and how much it will cost hasn’t left my mind, even till now.
“But one man can’t do it all alone,” Dhimal sighs.
Khaiju and others who were listening to the conversation now join in and discussions begin on how it could be made possible.
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