When Kathmandu mayor Keshav Sthapit goes to the polls next year, he will have a few feathers in his cap, including the house numbering system the city began last month and the land-pooling project in Naya Bazar. By far the largest and most successful land-pooling project in Nepal-similar government initiatives in Gongabu bombed-some happy householders are bound to give the mayor their vote. Upon donating about a third of their land towards the development of necessary infrastructure like roads and parks, some 1,569 plots (some which already had houses) were temporarily acquired and developed in a planned manner with the participation of the owners.

The mayor of Bhaktapur, Prem Suwal, also remains fairly popular with his constituents. Suwal, who narrowly escaped a bullet at a tense protest after the palace massacre, has always stressed that his first priority is to listen to the plight of each of his townsfolk.

The disagreement of Bhaktapur residents over raising the entry fee to the old city from $5 to $10 this January has been put aside as the conservation work undertaken by the municipality with the funds raised has been running smoothly under Suwal. In fact, Bhaktapur is close to actually booming-the town is setting up its own engineering college.

One of the recent boasts of both cities has been their relatively young, forty-something mayors. Lalitpur prefers the air of understated authority its elderly mayor, Buddhi Raj Bajracharya, lends the city as it weathers a difficult transition. Lalitpur sub-metropolitan area gossip has it that Bajracharya might not contest this time if the two factions of the left wing he represents cannot unite. This may be why he is constructing a gate on the already-congested Bagmati Bridge-so people remember him, for better or worse.

His city of artisans has been collecting more revenue since the tourist entry fee was introduced in January 2000, but there is some concern about how the funds will be utilised.

The necessities of life
In nine short months, Kathamandu municipality has laid 15 km of new road, 20 km of stormwater drains and one km of river training works. Patan's most visible public utility work is, unfortunately for its residents, the patchy repair work on some streets. Ramesh Chitrakar, the burg's deputy mayor, admits they have some way to go: "The only real example of such work is probably the sewage menace in Kumaripati. This time around, we used concrete slabs to solve the drain that overflowed and annoyed commuters every monsoon." The mayor's office is keeping its fingers crossed.

Of the Valley's three cities, Kathmandu has probably the most ambitious public utilities plan: it is called the Municipal Infrastructure Improvement Project, a mouthful that includes upgrading and widening roads, improving drains, constructing pedestrian overbridges, and placing those helpful green and white traffic signs in the historic city centre.

Through the dust, Kathmandu residents have grudging words of praise. "We need a doer like Sthapit," says Kishore Rai, a daily commuter. "He's extended the roads in the most unlikely places, and improved the infrastructure. Like the overhead bridges, they're really convenient." The bridges, the result of a private-public partnership, represent a major victory of Sthapit's tenure. "He's the first public figure who has involved the private sector in development," says an observer.
Money raised from advertisements painted on the bridges on the western corridor of Tundhikhel have paid for the construction of similar bridges on the eastern flank. The public private partnership has also flowered in unlikely parts of the city where private enterprises have sponsored traffic islands as part of a greening initiative. But, Sthapit\'s men and women of ideas seem to have deserted him, and there\'s no guarantee any of this will continue.

If Kathmandu has roads, the old centres of Bhaktapur and Patan have something pretty unbeatable: spring water from the stone water-taps and wells. In Patan, it is estimated that one in three courtyards has a traditional form of water supply. Of the fifty stone water-taps in Patan, 25 are still in use, and there are numerous wells. In Kwalkhu, for instance, 25 houses get natural spring water for 12 hours everyday.

Construction and streets aside, all three municipalities face one large, smelly common problem. Waste. All the old world charm of Bhaktapur cannot mask the stench emanating from the heap of garbage moulding on the eastern side of town near Golmadi and Palikhel. The town's sewage spills out, for all to see, at the Hanuman Ghat south of the town centre, and there is an interesting collection of mostly non-biodegradeable trash piling up on the banks of the towns small river along the Sallaghari and the Arniko Highway. Municipality officialdom says a solution is imminent, if only they can have complete control over the Waste Management Department's project. Lalitpur and Kathmandu, meanwhile, are getting ready for a bit of an argument-over whether or not Bungamati is a good site for trash disposal.

Some say the Kathmandu Municipal Corporation (KMC) has a slightly easier, more clear-cut job, because its needs and responses are more modern-the KMCs immediate concern is dealing with urban influx, which leads to sprawl, squatter settlements, waste management and environmental crises.
But Kathmandu municipal officials are quick to point out that they are as committed to conservation efforts as Bhaktapur and Patan. Sthapit's vision of transforming Thamel and Kathmandu's core city area into a cultural showpiece might require another term or two in office, and transforming Dharahara into a leisure spot with a garden and a caf? didn't work out. It seems that the two stone lions he's left in Kathmandu's Darbar Square will remain, sturdy emblems of his support of the arts and heritage.

The old and the new
Unlike Kathmandu, tourist revenues are a major source of income for Bhaktapur and Lalitpur, at least part of the reason they're so keen on the conservation of heritage sites. Bhaktapur's entrance fee hike was called outrageous by some, but it appears to be deterring few visitors, and the extra revenue is used in education, health and other community development projects in the municipality. It certainly hasn't hurt Bhaktapur\'s new Rs 150 million municipality-supported Khopa College, which plans to start its Bachelor of Engineering program in the autumn.

Patan, in comparison, is having some trouble. The Rs 200 entry fee visitors have had to pay since January 2000 is said to go towards the management and restoration of the municipality's heritage sites. Mayor Bajracharya's estimation that within five years the funds generated will be enough to renovate and convert Patan's into a world heritage site is taken with a pinch of salt. Patan citizens say it is more realistic to campaign instead for three categories of heritage sites-world, national and local.

Dilendra Shrestha, president of the Patan Tourism Development Committee, claims that even he is not familiar with the logistics of the plan. "We don't know exactly how and when the funds are going to be used," he says. "The municipality has to prioritise its tasks," he adds, arguing that charging an entry fee and wondering what to do with it will only take you so far. "We have to first transform Patan into a compulsory destination in Nepal, make the experience of coming here more intense," he says.

Budgeting and planning based on tourist revenues works in Bhakapur because it is already a must-see. Patan is getting there, but slowly-the Patan Museum, which saves it from being "just like Basantapur," is a big plus.

But there's another side to this discontent: residents in the area see the municipality collect the fees, but complain that their streets are still dirty and lined with hawkers. The hawkers, curio sellers for the most part, think the municipality cannot simply come and periodically take their earnings and chase them away-in all three districts they say they will be around, no matter what, so the municipalities might as well find a long-term solution acceptable to all sides.
All three organisations seem to be realising that community participation is key to any city preservation or revitalisation programme. If in Kathmandu Mayor Sthapit gets business involved, Mayor Suwal tries to get residents enthused. Bhaktapur's municipality charges chulo kaar, a household tax of Rs 1 every month from every house.

In Lalitpur, the mayor's office is trying to get people excited about the establishment of a museum detailing the ethnic life of Patan and the celebration of the annual Mattaya festival. They're optimistic about getting these projects off the ground. "The people of Lalitpur are remarkable. Whatever the occasion, about two-thirds of our residents get out and participate. Their will to get involved is our greatest asset," says deputy mayor Chitrakar.
Shisir Prasad Manandhar, acting chief of Kathmandu municipality\'s Protocol Department, says that Kathmandu is slowly becoming a city of immigrants. "Bhaktapur and Patan have smaller, more homogenous populations, and a concentrated core area. Kathmandu is home to thousands of urban migrants whose pressing concern is making money, not caring for the city," he says. "This makes conservation and urban planning in Kathmandu difficult."

Mine's bigger than yours
Of the Valley Big Three, Bhaktapur is the smallest (6.88 sq km), Lalitpur (15.47 sq km) is in between and Kathmandu the largest (50 sq km). All attained their present configuration in 1482, when King Yakshya Malla decided to divide his Malla kingdom into three cities for his three sons.

The Malla kingdom may have been weakened by this, but the three cities were imbued with a strong competitive spirit, that displayed itself mostly in architecture. That continues to this day, but with less sanguine results. Now we have the Contest of the Gates. The latest is the construction of an entry gate to Lalitpur at the Kupondole Bagmati bridge by the Lalitpur municipality. An example of total lack of imagination that one can only hope will die a silent death.