A typical commute in Kathmandu’s chaotic public transportation system is a frustrating, uncomfortable and a wholly draining experience. It usually comprises of deafening item songs, suffocating traffic jams and restless conductors attempting to further fill their already crowded vehicles. When filled beyond capacity, the claustrophobia-inducing interior of buses and microbuses give hardly any room to breathe or move; commuters stand sandwiched against each other, holding the over-head bars to avoid getting flung to a side when the hazardously speeding vehicle suddenly stops, only to board more passengers.

Mahanagar Yatayat, a recently launched fleet of private buses plying the Ring Road, has been a welcome relief for commuters who depend on public transportation. In a highly-publicised launch earlier this year, the company rolled out new features including more leg room, Wi-Fi and designated stops, which are tracked by a GPS system—much to commuters’ joy and syndicates’ derision.

Now, to add to its already burgeoning commuter base, Ka Baata, an organisation, which aims to uplift art and culture at the community level, has added another feature to two of these buses, which may be a pleasant surprise for bibliophiles. “In two of these buses, we have included bookshelves,” says Prashant Das, co-founder of Ka Baata, “It is latched behind the driver’s seat, providing a mini-library for the passengers sitting on the seat behind it.”

Das explained that this initiative, named Aayo Kitab, primarily targets the youth. “We hope to encourage reading habits among Nepalis and for them to utilise the time spent commuting with a productive habit like reading,” he adds, “In this way, we help people access books which are usually difficult to find and hope to encourage people to find and buy them later.”

A typical bus journey around Ring Road takes about two hours. In that time, a passenger is in the bus from any length of time—from a few minutes to an hour. In this duration, how appealing are the books to passengers? Are they successful in improving the commute?  How effective has Ka Baata’s initiative been thus far? To find out, I hopped on to an early-morning circumambulation of the Valley on one of the moving libraries. I would write this narrative later:

It was 6 am. The first few minutes of the bus ride were like any other. Bollywood music blared from the bus’s speakers and people harried around for seats. It wasn’t crowded, yet. The only perks were the slightly more spacious seats, the speakers which announced the stops, and, of course, the book shelf.

At first, the shelf remained unnoticed; passengers seemed to be more concerned about finding a seat. But soon enough, the first reader arrived. With wide, curious eyes, she picked up a children’s book. Later, I would come to learn that she was six-year-old Tipisha, who had boarded the bus with her mother. As soon as she had broken her mother’s hold and darted towards the shelf, her mother had called her back, telling her that it would be easier to get off the bus from the seats in the back. Tipisha obeyed, dutifully.

After a while, the second reader arrived—Mani Shrestha, a student at NCIT College in Balkumari. She said that she usually rides the Mahanagar Yatayat in the morning, but it was her first time on this one. She picked up a novel for some time, but as a seat became vacant in the back, she moved, putting the novel back in the shelf.

Much time passed before another reader arrived. Both young and old people constantly got on and off the seat behind the shelf, taking brief glances at the shelf but not taking any books out. One man fell asleep. Another asked me if I was a reporter, and then proceeded to comment positively on the “books” feature, but also mentioned that the comfort the bus provided with spacious seats and designated stops was more relevant to him.

Towards the end of the journey, my “reader count” was stuck at a mere two. Then, a man peered at the books for some time. Finally, he requested the passenger in front of him to switch seats. After occupying the ‘special’ seat, he picked a book, scrutinised it, pulled out a pair of glasses and started reading. Later, he would introduce himself as Sudarshan Thapa, a bibliophile, who worked at a private firm. He mentioned that it was the first time he had been on such a bus and that he was pleasantly surprised. He proceeded to read for much of the rest of his commute.

In reflection, I concluded that Ka Baata’s initiative would have been seemingly futile, at least for that particular bus ride, if Thapa hadn’t shown interest in the books. Even though only one person showed genuine interest for the books, it did show that, if done correctly, the idea of a mini-library in a bus can indeed appeal to its passengers.

But what are some ways to make Ka Baata’s initiative more effective? One major drawbacks was that none of the aforementioned readers were initially aware of the special feature—the bookshelf was not easily visible to all passengers and the bus was not different than the other Mahanagars plying the route (save for a small sticker on the front) nor were there any announcements about the bus’s book shelf. Advertising the feature to all of its passengers may have interested more like Thapa, who might have been in the bus but never noticed the bookshelf.

Another issue that I pondered over was that if a commute is less than an hour, does it make sense to pick up a thick novel to read? Or does it make more sense to include magazines, newspapers, poetry and novellas instead? Also, the Mahanagar bus is not a sit-only bus but one where passengers also stand if the seats are full. Would it be more plausible to include novels in longer journeys like the tourist buses to Chitwan or Pokhara where passengers can sit comfortably and read? Perhaps.

Since the Aayo Kitab initiative is relatively young, it is given that it may have its limitations. Constant feedback, ideas and change is necessary if such initiatives are to be successful.  Regardless, Ka Baata’s novel initiative represents the budding of an innovative idea—perhaps even a culture someday.

Some decades down the line, is it possible that the state of Kathmandu’s vexing public transportation will be reformed and replaced by more comfortable and intellectually stimulating options? It is uncertain. But with initiatives like Mahanagar Yatayat and Aayo Kitab on the rise, it is surely a start.

As Malashree Suvedi, from Ka Baata, puts it, “Commuting in Kathmandu can be exasperating and if we can convert a frustrating traffic jam into an a fun, intellectually stimulating experience, even if for just a few, maybe that will rub off on others. We hope to start a domino effect.”

Thanks to the six-year-old Tipisha and the bibliophile Thapa, the chain reaction is on its way.