The three-day spring <a href="https://www.facebook.com/554072576/videos/pcb.10161634359657577/7637840289564071">celebration of Pāhāñ Charey</a> पाहाँ चःह्रे of the indigenous Newāh people of Kathmandu, last week is the second in importance only to the autumnal ten-day festival of Mohani (Daśain). The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/reel/1260288977714117">annual festival </a>reminds people about the vital role of women in society — from matriarchal gods who have protected the Valley since prehistoric times to married daughters who come home to their parents for a special time of bonding and enjoyment.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130348_debde6edc22c28759ed6cc30e66d22784a3f38c254d4ee764a98e863c3f8fd3b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260325130348_debde6edc22c28759ed6cc30e66d22784a3f38c254d4ee764a98e863c3f8fd3b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1499" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Image of Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā above doorway of her temple at Nyeta.</figcaption> </figure>  According to popular legend, Pāhāñ Charey commemorates the day when Lord Śiva, a stringent vegetarian, agreed to go carnivorous and drink alcohol at the behest of his wife Pārvati. For this ‘disgraceful’ act of eating meat, the Lord was demoted to the rank of a Pisācha — a lowly spirit of the underworld.&nbsp; Hence, the festival is also known as Pisācha Chaturdaśi. Revellers indulge in a lavish feast serving generous quantities of meat and homemade alcohol after paying homage to a nondescript stone that is dug up for this occasion from a small, unremarkable pit in the ground that represents Lord Śiva.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130344_159cee260587537810d930b0ba22ac0a867595aba5335e8954fa08cdda71197c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260325130344_159cee260587537810d930b0ba22ac0a867595aba5335e8954fa08cdda71197c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1227" height="1841" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Neighbourhoods in the inner core of Kathmandu come alive with decorated palanquins parading images of local deities including Ajimā.</figcaption> </figure>  Equally important in the Pāhāñ Charey family banquet is the variety of seasonal dishes that offer high nutrients and balance. Specials of the day are broad-leaf mustard and radish, lovingly addressed as ‘gold flower’ and ‘silver flower’ respectively. Fresh green garlic is another essential item in the day’s menu. Octagenarian Mahalaxmi Rajkarnikar of Tangaḥ, Pātan recalls her younger days, “After the ritual worship of Śiva in the sunken pit, we made eyeliner with soot collected over a ritual oil lamp on a clay container and applied it to our eyes. It gave us women a sense of fulfilment of having initiated the annual fete in a joyous manner.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130340_3b2681cb1be58004fa3598f3ec3974b30970c538cab4043210f39301719b1161.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260325130340_3b2681cb1be58004fa3598f3ec3974b30970c538cab4043210f39301719b1161" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Acrobatic display of Dhunyā pole at Kanga Ajimā temple on day 2.</figcaption> </figure>  Pāhāñ Charey observances start on the fourteenth day of the dark fortnight of the month of Chaitra, according to the lunar calendar. Seekers of Tantric knowledge believe that it is rewarding to perform ritual worships and engage in devotional activities on the night of Pāhāñ Charey. The festivities, however, kick off a week earlier. On the eighth day of the dark fortnight of Chaitra, a small Śivaliñga in Paśupatināth in the outskirts of Kathmandu, is paraded through the core areas of the city, formally announcing the arrival of Pāhāñ Charey.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130336_d8201c71aee8cae5c2bc1791326074038f7a2a0774ee264346f901ca26c1922a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260325130336_d8201c71aee8cae5c2bc1791326074038f7a2a0774ee264346f901ca26c1922a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1499" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Shrine of Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā where the procession congregates.</figcaption> </figure>  “This festival beautifully showcases the living heritage of Newāh culture, where devotion, art and community spirit blend seamlessly,” explains culture expert Sandip Maharjan. “Kathmandu comes alive with masked dances, ritual processions, and offerings made at different shrines, as devotees seek protection, purification and blessings.” On the first night of the festival, the elaborate ritual dance sequence of goddess Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā and her sacred ensemble of colourful deities is performed at a major street intersection on the ancient trade route that connected Tibet with India through Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130348_4ea027d45f9f50404fd5bdc9d938de859aa836a21dddc15a4a4049af348a401a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260325130348_4ea027d45f9f50404fd5bdc9d938de859aa836a21dddc15a4a4049af348a401a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Kumāri</figcaption> </figure>  The Tantric performance takes place all night, and throughout the next day, on a raised stone platform across the street from the majestic three-tiered temple of Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā in Nyeta (Naradevi).&nbsp; The graceful, rhythmic masked dance is enacted primarily by the the ancestral protectress Ajimā and her daughter Kumāri, along with an entourage including the eight mother goddesses (Aśtamātrika), to the tune of musicians who play ritual drums, small cymbals and piped instruments.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130336_2d918f175d07841dfd86bde7dd64e2416198eb95f3879d3acc8cfc92edabac5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260325130336_2d918f175d07841dfd86bde7dd64e2416198eb95f3879d3acc8cfc92edabac5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1711" height="1141" loading="lazy" alt="Paha Charey NT"> <figcaption>Some of the members of the ensemble of masked dancers.</figcaption> </figure>  Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā, also known as Śweta Kāli Devi, has an emaciated body, three eyes and a sunken belly. She wears a munda mālā (garland of skulls). Standing on a row of human skulls, she brandishes an array of weapons and a kapālā (skull-bowl) in her hands.&nbsp; The abundance of human skulls in her imagery testifies to Ajimā’s Tantric nature. Her fearsome appearance helps ward off enemies, mortal and otherwise.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130340_5bdbb7b6a431c0bd486089930bd4c8c1bf850b16b05ea83eba2c908002021222.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260325130340_5bdbb7b6a431c0bd486089930bd4c8c1bf850b16b05ea83eba2c908002021222" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Palanquin of Ganeś from Kilaghaḥ neighborhood on day 2.</figcaption> </figure>  Legend goes, when the Kathmandu Valley was still a dense jungle, a king from a faraway land came here on a hunting expedition. Chased by a frightening elephant, he finally took refuge at the base of a large tree at the spot where the Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā temple is now, and prayed to goddess Ajimā. The elephant then left, leaving the king unharmed. Since then, the Newāh community, regardless of its religious affiliation, have worshiped Ajimā as their protectress and female ancestral divinity.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130344_f07317047b747dff6e526e27185db043dbaa748620922da29d6437b620566ef4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260325130344_f07317047b747dff6e526e27185db043dbaa748620922da29d6437b620566ef4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Decorated umbrella of Ajimā.</figcaption> </figure>  The tantric deity Kankeśori or Kanga Ajimā is one of the eight mother goddesses located at strategic points along the ancient boundary of Kathmandu. The city’s sword-shaped frontier was drawn by King Gunakāma Deva 1,000 years ago to protect its inhabitants from harmful forces. The ornately decorated Kanga Ajimā temple complex, revered by followers of both Śaktism and Newāh Buddhism, lies next to the Vishnumati River, adjacent to the cremation grounds of some Newāh communities of Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130340_5bdbb7b6a431c0bd486089930bd4c8c1bf850b16b05ea83eba2c908002021222.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260325130340_5bdbb7b6a431c0bd486089930bd4c8c1bf850b16b05ea83eba2c908002021222" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Palanquin of Ganeś from Kilaghaḥ neighborhood on day 2.</figcaption> </figure>  On the third and final day, devotees take the image of the Kanga Ajimā to the ancient market square of Asan on a palanquin in a gala procession. In this reverberating, high-energy ritual known as Dyo Lwākegu, she exchanges greetings with her two Ajimā sisters from other parts of town — Tebahā Ajimā and Wotu Ajimā — amidst a colorful, chaotic crowd in a trance-like atmosphere. Throughout Pāhāñ Charey, neighbourhoods in the inner core of Kathmandu come alive with vibrant parades featuring decorated palanquins carrying images of local deities including Ajimā, her spouse Āju Dyo and Lord Ganeś (known by the Newāh people as Ināe Dyo), accompanied by traditional music bands.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130340_062d67d4465955aaa8e0a55df527f435d4e996b22095794d193763bc8bd280f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260325130340_062d67d4465955aaa8e0a55df527f435d4e996b22095794d193763bc8bd280f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Palanquinn of Nyeta Bhulu Ajimā being readied for Pāhāñ Charey parade on day 3.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;Married women reconnect with their childhood roots through special worship, while families bond over grand feasts with their married daughters and grandchildren. Pāhāñ Charey is largely regarded as the daughters’ festival. Daughters, grandchildren, other close relatives, and even friends are invited to the feast as guests. In Nepāl Bhāsā, Pāhāñ means guest, and during the festival guests are invited to home to have a good time with fervent ritual worship, food and drinks. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260325130340_9ce8736816da2f86746c7ec6c3d9b6308f4a79f49f7772247ac82330af51d3f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260325130340_9ce8736816da2f86746c7ec6c3d9b6308f4a79f49f7772247ac82330af51d3f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="4032" loading="lazy" alt="Pahan Charey NT"> <figcaption>Palanquin of Kanga Ajimā at Nyeta neighborhood during Pāhāñ Charey processio non day 3.</figcaption> </figure>  See more photos in our gallery. Alok Siddhi Tuladhar is a cultural preservation activist and documentarian. <a href="mailto:alokstuladhar@gmail.com" target="_blank">alokstuladhar@gmail.com</a>

Pāhāñ Charey पाहाँ चःह्रे

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The cabinet approved $185M in foreign loans for the Digital Nepal Transformation project, which aims to modernise government services. Of this, $50 million comes from the World Bank and $40 million from the ADB to modernise digital government services. An additional $95 million from the World Bank is for SDG and inclusion projects. There has been criticism in MPs about Nepal’s increasing debt burden.

Nepal approves loan

Nepali migrant workers sent home Rs1.45 trillion in the first eight months of the fiscal year—a 37.7% increase compared to the same period last year. February–March alone saw Rs188.64 billion. During the period, 273,536 workers received new labour permits and 251,985 received re-permits.

Rs1.45 trillion

The government introduced Saturday–Sunday weekends for all offices and schools to reduce fuel consumption after petrol prices rose by 30% to cross Rs200/l due to the US-Israel war on Iran. Office hours have been extended to 9am–5pm to compensate. Bus fares may increase by 19% after diesel prices have risen by Rs40/l over the past month. Transport operators are pushing for immediate implementation.

2-day weekend

The past, the present, and the future are really one: they are today. -Harriet Beecher Stowe  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122609120_5c63a3201a7231b9334f98a3a1af867acfc1264e29fc3081810a565a270bde6f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122609120_5c63a3201a7231b9334f98a3a1af867acfc1264e29fc3081810a565a270bde6f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="2700" loading="lazy" alt="Miss Moti #1241"> </figure>

The past, the present, and the future are really one

The rape and murder of Inisha BK in Surkhet earlier this month has become yet another case of the abuse and violence that women and girls continue to face — and pay for with their lives.&nbsp;
In Kalikot, police arrested a man in his 50s after he was found to have repeatedly sexually assaulted his 13-year-old relative. In Kathmandu's Maitighar, a seven-year-old has been demanding justice for her mother, who was raped and murdered in Khotang eight months ago.&nbsp;
These crimes have once again cast a harsh ­­­­spotlight on how Nepal’s state apparatus has repeatedly failed victims and survivors of sexual violence. This has fostered a sense of impunity that encourages more abuse.
Four teenage boys, one of them reportedly in a romantic relationship with Inisha, have been arrested for her brutal assault and murder. In the days since, Nepalis across the country have come together, as they have before after the same sort of crimes, to demand justice and accountability not just for Inisha but for countless other women and girls who are made to suffer.&nbsp;
Nepal Police records show an average of 2,400 cases of rape over the last five fiscal years, with 2,253 complaints filed in the past year. There are as many as 7 rape cases registered every day, while more are never reported to the police. Yet, even as there are resounding calls for accountability now for Inisha, there is the sense that law enforcement and the judicial system is not to be trusted to ensure safety and justice for women.&nbsp;
The 2018 rape and murder of 18-year-old Nirmala Panta has not been solved due to police mishandling of the investigation. That crime is etched on the national psyche. Thousands of survivors of wartime rape during the insurgency remain unaddressed by the state. Law enforcement shows apathy and loathing towards trans people, particularly sex workers, when they try to register complaints of sexual harassment and assault. Police are routinely reluctant to record complaints of marital rape.&nbsp;
And even if cases of sexual violence are registered, the state allows perpetrators to get away with fumbled investigations, a lack of sufficient evidence or statutes of limitation.&nbsp;
Adult men get away with grooming and assaulting minor survivors because both parties ‘have consented’ to being in a relationship. Survivors and families are often made to sign a मिलापत्र by police so they do not have to investigate and prosecute.&nbsp;
After this month’s election, there is hope that a fresh new elected leadership will govern the country better than their predecessors. There are strong demands that the government hold the rapists of Inisha, Nirmala and many other women and girls accountable for their crimes.
Whenever yet another case of sexual assault makes it to national headlines, there is an outcry to punish the perpetrators when (and if) they are found, and only after they have committed the crime. But what of our own homes, communities, society and culture where patriarchy is entrenched, and misogyny rampant?
Following Inisha’s rape and murder, the usual questions were already there on the social media manosphere: why would she go into the forest with a boy? Why did she have a boyfriend at 16? Online, some began their think-pieces with ‘I don’t mean to blame the victim … but young girls must be careful who they give themselves to.’&nbsp;
Almost every woman will have experienced sexual harassment, misconduct or violence one way or another — in casual conversations at work, walking on the streets, on public transport, interacting with people they know, just going about their daily lives.&nbsp;
And the onus of sexual abuse and violence always lies on those who are subjected to it: on how they dress, how they behave, how they exist. Meanwhile, perpetrators are excused and protected by their celebrity status, their wealth, connection, age, by their families and communities.
Meanwhile, young boys and men across the globe are increasingly radicalised on the internet, driven to violent and sexist behaviour as they are algorithmically led to believe that feminism and the calls for equality tramples on their rights.
Misogyny permeates everyday interactions, every time we dismiss the &nbsp;aggression of young men as ‘boys being boys’, every time men are taught to associate romantic relationships with aggressively pursuant behaviour, every instance that dated and sexist wedding rituals are taken in jest, every time women are silenced into sweeping domestic violence, abuse, and sexual assault under the rug.
Nepal’s laws must ensure that perpetrators of sexual violence are granted no leniency, regardless of age, background, or circumstance. But it must also be made abundantly clear to young boys and men at home, schools, and in the community that bad behaviour, however small, has consequences.
Shristi Karki

No nation for women

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

There is one particular wall in Thimi that catches the attention of every passerby. Many stop to look, even those in cars slow down to catch a glimpse of the 2 stories high mural. It is titled झी (pictured below), the Newa word for ‘We’ and it is by artist Pooja Duwal, 27, who admits she had always been afraid of heights before she got on ladders to do these wall paintings. “I was doing paubha painting and thought I should learn a new skill,” says Duwal, who took a training in mural art, and there is no stopping since.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031907034_23a290f14ac22f9cfb9c315876cd93841abbe95c046bb2929c1b27995605bb45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031907034_23a290f14ac22f9cfb9c315876cd93841abbe95c046bb2929c1b27995605bb45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Women mural artists NT 1"> <figcaption>झी by Pooja Duwal. All photos: ANITA BHETWAL</figcaption> </figure>  Murals are different from other art forms -- the canvas is not on an easel but on brick walls or ceilings and have become the preferred medium for social messaging about feminism, democracy or press freedom after Nepal’s GenZ movement. At Kathmandu University’s fine arts department, most of her colleagues chose canvas or sculpture. But Duwal found the the scale of mural paintings irresistible despite the challenges. The main message in her murals is women’s empowerment and झी, for example, depicts the collective identity and solidarity of women in Bhaktapur. Women are shown worshipping at a temple, while others are busy sewing, weaving or farming – showing the diverse roles played by women. &nbsp; “Women would gather around while I worked and ask why I was painting on walls,” she says. “But then they would start telling their own stories. They were proud that they could participate and contribute to my art.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090340_b7fe1ba8e59e1004a026ac939a70cb9988125d896911a30d3a62d8483268aa35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260319090340_b7fe1ba8e59e1004a026ac939a70cb9988125d896911a30d3a62d8483268aa35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="women mural artists"> <figcaption>Pooja Duwal</figcaption> </figure>  Mural is not an easy art form, Duwal had to overcome her acrophobia climbing rickety ladders on a high wall with her paint can and brush.&nbsp; Over in the nearby town of Sankhu, the mural artists are playing an important role in connecting their ethnic, religious and cultural heritage to people who have forgotten tradition and ancient folklores.&nbsp; Subidha Lama, 20, painted a mural at the Sankhu bus park of women weaving sweaters. This resonates powerfully with Radhika Prajapati who knits sweaters herself and feels her work is being valued and recognized. “It is a great pleasure for us women see our work displayed on the walls, it makes me feel that what I do is important for society,” a beaming Prajapati told us.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031907034_af2ab7e8110b98fc5b078b27081864345d2f4f5ea222fce1ac6289281070d8ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031907034_af2ab7e8110b98fc5b078b27081864345d2f4f5ea222fce1ac6289281070d8ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Women mural artists NT 1"> <figcaption>Subidha Lama</figcaption> </figure>  Lama recalls that the first time she climbed a ladder to start her mural, local were puzzled. “Our society still believes that such things are done by foreigners,” she says. “And they are especially surprised that women are painting.” &nbsp; Lama has now gathered some experience, including in the Philippines, where she was commissioned by local communities to paint murals.&nbsp; “If you can invest and commit yourself to it, it can earn you aliving,” says Lama, who is continuously working to inspire and empower women towards this art form. Murals are nothing new in Nepal. Refugee monks fleeing persecution in the Pala Empire in the 11th century brought the traditional Buddhist artform to Kathmandu. The technique peaked during the Malla period, considered the ‘golden age’ of Nepali art.&nbsp; But compared to woodcarving, sculpture, and traditional architecture, the contribution of mural art in preserving local history and tradition has been overlooked. Murals are not just creative outlet, but documentation of our past and present, and how we want our future to be. In the town of Khokana in Lalitpur, Saru Prajapati also started out as a paubha painter, but found the grand scale of wall painting more stimulating. She consults local women to decide on the content of the mural and tells the stories of the everyday lives of local women.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031907034_64cbd675d6f9a89e5ba2b54c8351e3d41e099a81f02c6c0c02d8116978f2b77c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031907034_64cbd675d6f9a89e5ba2b54c8351e3d41e099a81f02c6c0c02d8116978f2b77c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Women mural artists NT 1"> <figcaption>Saru Prajapati</figcaption> </figure>  People used to poke fun at her while she worked high up on a ladder, but now they are impressed with her work. Prajapati is now encouraging a new generation of women artists to join the field.&nbsp; Samudraman Singh, an artist with experience in both paubha and mural art, says the expansion of art education in universities means more women are taking up mural art, but adds: “Many more women would have joined, but they have family commitments.”&nbsp; Pooja Pant, director of VOW Media that is conducting mural training, says female artists are reclaiming of the physical space in their neighbourhoods. That it is an exercise, making narrative space one’s own, and becoming a means of resistance and transformation through art. “These murals are not just pictures on the wall, they are centres of power,” adds Pant. “They bring women’s history and future to public view. And the streets and walls become a platform for collective empowerment, and helps to inspire other women.”

Painting walls to bring down walls

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Money may not grow on trees, but much of our prosperity does.
Forests quietly support trillions of dollars in economic activity, millions of jobs, and essentials like the food we eat, the air we breathe, and the climate we depend on. In reality, the global economy cannot function without healthy forests.
Forests are far more than timber. They stabilise soils and regulate water vital for agrifood systems and industrial productivity, supply energy and a wealth of forest products, and create space for recreation and ecotourism.
The formal forest sector alone <a href="https://openknowledge.fao.org/items/4c8bd12f-d6b8-4755-a82f-1284c41bf012" target="_blank">contributes an estimated $1.52 trillion annually to the global economy</a>, while <a href="https://www.weforum.org/publications/nature-risk-rising-why-the-crisis-engulfing-nature-matters-for-business-and-the-economy/" target="_blank">more than half of the world’s gross domestic product – some $44 trillion – relies on nature</a>, including forests.
For more than 2 billion people, wood fuel is essential for cooking and heating, and hundreds of millions of people depend directly on forests for their livelihoods. Beyond wood, forests provide foods, medicines, resins, fibers, animal feed and ornamental plants that <a href="https://openknowledge.fao.org/handle/20.500.14283/cd6709en" target="_blank">support around 5.8 billion people worldwide</a>. These non-wood forest products are <a href="https://openknowledge.fao.org/handle/20.500.14283/cd6709en" target="_blank">worth at least $9.41 billion annually</a> and could grow much further.
By storing carbon, forests help protect economies from climate impacts that can cost billions. In Brazil, for example, converting tropical forests to farmland has reduced evapotranspiration – the movement of water from land to the atmosphere – by 30%, raising local temperatures and putting rainfed agriculture at risk. Without forests, global food production simply cannot sustain.
Forests are also part of the natural solution as the world starts to transition towards a bioeconomy based on climate‑friendly alternatives from more emission‑intensive materials such as steel, concrete and plastic. As populations grow, renewable, sustainable wood used in construction for housing can become a cornerstone of a low-carbon economy, while innovative products such as wood-based textiles, food packaging and even transparent ‘glass’ are already a reality.
This will mean increased demand for forest products which is already at record levels. For example, by 2050, the world may <a href="https://openknowledge.fao.org/server/api/core/bitstreams/897149ba-87f1-43e8-9514-e7adb6729d57/content" target="_blank">need 1 billion cubic metres of industrial roundwood, </a>more than the 4 billion cubic metres currently being produced each year.
As it is, forests are already under pressure. They are home to up to 80% of biodiversity on land, yet they continue to be cleared for other economic uses, even if <a href="https://openknowledge.fao.org/handle/20.500.14283/cd6709en" target="_blank">deforestation and forest degradation are slowing around the world</a>.
As climate change intensifies, the global economy of the future must look different: more sustainable, more circular, and more closely linked with nature. To get there, we need to bring protection and production together rather than treating them as opposites.
The <a href="https://www.fao.org/home/en/" target="_blank">Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations</a> (FAO) is working to promote the concrete steps needed to realise this vision of healthy forests that support livelihoods and deliver ecosystem services, including through sustainable products.
First of all, meeting rising demand does not have to mean taking more from nature than it can regenerate. Using wood more efficiently, smarter recycling and reusing wood products can reduce pressure on forests.
Long‑lasting uses, such as timber buildings, store carbon for decades, “stretching” each harvested log further. Sustainable forest management is vital to ensure that harvesting of timber and non-wood forest products stays within ecological limits and that forest ecosystems remain healthy.
International trade can also help balance global supply and demand, allowing regions with abundant forest resources to support those with fewer. But trade must be anchored in strong sustainability standards and governance to prevent deforestation and overharvesting of non-wood forest products and to ensure local communities benefit.
Incentive schemes and innovative financing can also help by rewarding those who protect forests and manage them responsibly, from smallholders to larger producers.
The growing bioeconomy, built on renewable materials like wood and bamboo, is ready to be scaled up and offers a promising path forward – as long as it remains firmly grounded in sustainable forestry. To that end, safeguards, clear rules and good governance are essential.
As we celebrate <a href="https://www.fao.org/international-day-of-forests/en" target="_blank">the International Day of Forests</a> on 21 March, one conclusion stands out clearly: without forests, there are no economies. The decisions made now will determine whether we can protect forests and, at the same time, build strong, resilient economies for generations to come.
Zhimin Wu is Assistant Director-General and Director of the Forestry Division, Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations.

No forests, no economies

The wide <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-river-of-life">Karnali River</a> looks like the sea here in the Tarai, and thick fog makes it impossible to see the other shore. Farmers melt into the mist as they head off to their farms. A weak sun filters through by mid-morning. Pigs nap in their pens, goats are dressed in cardigans fashioned out of jute sacks for warmth, hens peck listlessly at the mud courtyards. Ducks waddle across the country roads, and cars swerve to avoid them. The indigenous Tharu and Sonaha communities here have deeply-rooted socio-cultural ties to the river. They have fished in it for generations, and fish is associated with births, deaths, and weddings. As their name suggests, the Sonaha have also traditionally panned for gold in the sand along the banks. But in recent decades, over-fishing, pollution and infrastructure have led to a decline in the Karnali’s fish population. Last week, near the Satti bridge connecting Sudurpaschim and Lumbini Provinces, the fog lifted to reveal the blue-green Karnali glimmering in the sun. Hundreds of people from Kailali’s Tikapur and Bardia’s Rajapur gathered for the inauguration of the Sakhi Fish Sanctuary — the first conservation effort of its kind in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_ef2493a1124a33e90ca39f3a0b861ffef4a8bde6b5d3839f96e2fe7f583d0de8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260116130120_ef2493a1124a33e90ca39f3a0b861ffef4a8bde6b5d3839f96e2fe7f583d0de8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> <figcaption>The Sonaha community have traditionally panned for gold in the sand along the banks of the Karnali River. Photos: GAYATRI PRADHAN / WWF NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  The sanctuary covers nearly 4 sq km of the Lower Karnali that falls within the two municipalities, and is ecologically significant since it serves as critical breeding, spawning, and nursery habitats for endangered fish, reptiles and mammals.&nbsp; Here are found the rare Gangetic River Dolphin (Platanista gangetica), the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/crocodile-chronicle">Gharial</a> (Gavialis gangeticus) &nbsp;fish-eating crocodile, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-karnali-otters">Smooth-coated Otter</a> (Lutrogale perspicillata). In addition, there are 197 species of fish in the Karnali, of which 136 are found here in the Tarai section of the river. The pebbled riverbed is a breeding ground for fish when the river is low, while the oxbow lakes and loops created by the nearby Satti bridge are nursing grounds for fish. This is what makes this section of the Karnali ideal to be declared a sanctuary. But what makes the conservation effort really unique is that it is an initiative of the two local municipalities, the local Tharu, Sonaha and other indigenous communities. The sanctuary will support the river’s aquatic biodiversity, and is supported by the World Wildlife Fund (WWF), the Dolphin Conservation Centre, Freed Kamaiya Women Development Forum, Small Mammals Conservation and Research Foundation, and the Sonaha Bikas Samaj.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260115110116_f844434e0191df09ad6d6d7887a69491eaf15f0ff1b093c7866ab22cfb0c6c95.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260115110116_f844434e0191df09ad6d6d7887a69491eaf15f0ff1b093c7866ab22cfb0c6c95" data-rendition-name="original" width="1358" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="6-7 map"> </figure>  MEKONG LESSONS The mayors of Tikapur and Rajapur visited fish conservation zones in Laos along the Mekong River to learn about their conservation practices. &nbsp; “We have indiscriminately killed the fish in the Karnali during the breeding and nursing season,” said Rajapur Mayor Dipesh Tharu at the inauguration. “We felt that if this continued there would be no fish left.” Tharu is aware that some locals are wary of conservation initiatives, fearing that it will ban fishing altogether. The sanctuary will allow sustainable fishing but ban the use of dynamite and poison to kill fish.&nbsp; “The sanctuary will contribute to the conservation of not just fish species, but also the mammals and reptiles that live here,” explained ichthyologist Suresh Wagle. “It will protect the spawning and nursing grounds, restore the natural habitat of fish and ensure their genetic continuation.” Tikapur’s mayor Ram Lal Dangaura Tharu recalled his own childhood spent fishing in the Karnali: “Even two decades ago there used to be plenty of fish here, we used to bring baskets full of them home. Now, it is looking like there will be no fish left. This is why the sanctuary is important.” Local governments taking the lead in conservation allows them to have ownership, and help citizens understand the importance of protecting the riverine ecosystem better.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_fddc696800b9b38d02736195af2b3535667cde365d56151ccf85eb0756f1ad8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260116130120_fddc696800b9b38d02736195af2b3535667cde365d56151ccf85eb0756f1ad8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> </figure>  “The commitment of the local government towards resource conservation, management and sustainable development is what makes this sanctuary so unique,” says Ghana Gurung of WWF Nepal. “In Nepal and across the world, we are seeing indigenous culture and traditions disappear with the biodiversity. This initiative will not just protect freshwater aquatic species but also the culture and heritage of indigenous groups linked to the river.” Komal Sonaha grew up fishing and panning for gold along the banks of the Karnali. The fish provided food, and the gold brought additional income. Sonaha also remembers Karnali brimming with fish when she was young. “But now, there are hardly any left,” she said. &nbsp; Sonaha is also a WWF Otter Champion, and part of the community-run river conservation groups that mobilise local communities for awareness. “Initially there was anger and suspicion among local communities, but now, there is a realisation that the sanctuary is the best thing that could have happened here,” Sonaha added.&nbsp; Sonaha and her family still pan for gold, but with the fish scarce, their primary means of livelihood has shifted to livestock like many other families in Tikapur and Rajapur, supported by national and local institutions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116130120_23d679da5c49f22342b4fd80f0d0ec5a1fb4c38fb4ac379d276a959f435b4f68.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260116130120_23d679da5c49f22342b4fd80f0d0ec5a1fb4c38fb4ac379d276a959f435b4f68" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali aquatic reserve"> <figcaption>Local communities whose livelihoods are linked with the Karnali river have been supported by organisations like WWF Nepal and other national and local organisations to set up alternative means of income generation.</figcaption> </figure>  Ashmita Tharu and Pratima Tharu also used to depend on fish, but now have shifted to vegetable farming in Rajapur. This time of year, there is spinach, cucumber, and cauliflower ready to be sold to nearby markets. The women are now financially independent and actively contribute to their household expenses and their children’s education. Said Pratima: “We used to fish in this river without thinking about the consequences. We had no idea how important conservation was.”&nbsp; Ashmita nods in agreement. “Now, we are self-employed and so busy with our vegtables that we do not even have time to fish anymore,” she said. With Tikapur and Rajapur municipalities leading the charge, conservationists hope that other local governments and communities along other rivers in Nepal will follow suit to preserve aquatic biodiversity.&nbsp; “This initiative from the two municipalities is a milestone in conservation,” said Bijay Shrestha of the Dolphin Conservation Centre. “This will serve as a model and can be replicated across the country to conserve our freshwater habitat and the people who rely on them.” Local officials also hope that the sanctuary will provide an opportunity to explore options like fishing tourism. &nbsp; Said Tikapur Mayor Ram Lal Dangaura Tharu: “The Karnali, with its biodiversity, is a river of opportunity and possibility, we are determined to protect it, and make what this river has to offer known to Nepal and the world.” &nbsp; This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251224141220_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG"> </figure>

Karnali Aquatic Reserve

The pale green ice on the top of the lake gleams in the pale January sunlight. The dark waters beneath are visible through the translucent frozen surface. This is Thulagi Glacial Lake at the foot of Mt Manaslu in central Nepal, classified as one of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up">most dangerous lakes </a>to appear in the Himalaya due to climate heating.&nbsp; The place is breathtaking not just because of its 4,050m altitude, but the scenery all around. The beauty belies the threat this expanding lake poses downstream along the Marsyangdi Valley. &nbsp; The lake lies at the terminus of the 4.5km long Thulagi Glacier. The local Gurung inhabitants call it Dona Tal. They say it started appearing in the 1960s. Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung, 47, has been ferrying trekkers to the spot for about 20 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100136_a34407fbb58b41554f08d392933ea32360649deaf712e2221686533f81507f58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>MELTING MOUNTAINS: Thulagi Glacial Lake in Manang has been identified among 47 lakes in Nepal at risk of an outburst flood because of climate breakdown. All photos: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100136_4d3c25c9b4f6eaff3e538b36346471c301d38338514bfdfa9ee63ccd77d20489" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Yaks graze below Thulagi Himal (7,059m) and Mt Manaslu (8,163m) along the Dona Khola that drains the lake.</figcaption> </figure>  “Dona used to be small, but it has now grown bigger,” he says, gesturing to how the glacier has receded and shrunk. Trekkers used to be able to go to the other side, but now the glacier is riddled with ponds and boulders falling off the moraine that make it dangerous.&nbsp; Gurung adds rather matter-of-factly: “The lake will burst sooner or later.”&nbsp; Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) has been studying Thulagi for the past two decades. Topographic maps from the 1960s and early satellite images show the lake being much smaller.&nbsp; When the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-resource-curse">Marsyangdi Hydropower Project</a> project was being built in 1994, the German Institute of Geology and Natural Resources with the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology measured the lake to be already 2km in length. More recent surveys show the lake has increased its size since then to more than 1 sq km. &nbsp; The lake is among 47 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/meltpools-in-the-himalaya">dangerous glacial lakes in Nepal and Tibet </a>&nbsp;identified by ICIMOD in 2020 due to its size, the risk of landslides and avalanches, and the gradual collapse of the lake’s ice-core moraine dam.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260122100136_9b9fea3665494614c2d89e4202c735fd642a13552d67ca2be3da5c390320ca9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Local guide Chandra Bahadur Gurung has been taking trekkers up to Thulagi Lake for 20 years.</figcaption> </figure>  In 2018 a team of glaciologists led by Umesh K Haritasya <a href="https://www.mdpi.com/2072-4292/10/5/798">published a journal article</a> about the evolution of three glacial lakes including Thulagi, Lower Barun, and Imja. Even back in 1976, Thulagi was twice the size of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Diverting-danger,3172">Imja glacial lake</a> in the Khumbu and six times the size of the Lower Barun. The team measured the lake’s depth at 79m, and calculated that it held 36.1 million m3 of water. Since then, Thulagi has been growing at a slower rate than the other two lakes because it is shielded by shadows of mountains. There is also not as much glacial calving in the narrow valley.&nbsp; Nonetheless, scientists and experts have long warned that a Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) from Thulagi poses a big risk to four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and settlements like Besisahar and Dumre (map).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260125130136_eac3ccf38d2f91619825ab977bb21ea3eee84d6e87939721f9a8dbb7f0f22504" data-rendition-name="original" width="2076" height="1444" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi map"> </figure>  The lake feeds into Dona Khola, a tributary of the Marsyangdi where the 49.9MW Dona Khola hydropower project is being built at a cost of Rs10 billion. Another 42MW Super Dona Khola project is planned on the river. “One of the trigger points that could lead to a glacial lake outburst could be the steep lateral moraine, which might be weakened by rapidly melting permafrost,” says Scott Watson, a University of Leeds researcher who was part of the team that conducted the 2018 study. Locals are already witnessing what Watson describes. They say that it was easy to reach Thulagi’s headwaters even until a few years ago, but that is now dangerous because of ice and rockfalls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260122100136_217a1951a620e8efe11e5936600be172874976a0c04a1031495cf6687ce8f82c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1426" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>The 50MW Upper Marsyangdi Hydropower Project station in Lamjung. A Thulagi Lake outburst would damage four hydropower projects on the Marsyangdi and its tributaries.</figcaption> </figure>  GLOF WARNING&nbsp; Glaciologist Rijan Bhakta Kayastha has been studying Thulagi since 1994, and was part of a team that discovered that the lake’s terminal moraine was made up of rocky soil on top and ice at its core.&nbsp; In 2020, Kayastha's team published a study that modelled the route of a possible GLOF. They found that if the lake burst, it would take 2.5 hours to reach Dharapani, and 4 hours to reach Bahundanda 39km downstream. The surge would be 13.7m high at Dharapani and 15m by the time it reached Taal, the village most at risk because it is situated only a few metres above the Marsyangdi. ‘Considering the size of the Thulagi glacial lake and its dam, it seems unlikely that a rock fall or avalanche would cause the lake to breach the moraine dam,” concluded the study. “But an earthquake or climate change would require a separate study. At present, there is no immediate or imminent threat of this glacier bursting.” MEMORIES OF 2021 Across Manang valley, residents are haunted by the memories of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">2021 flood on the Marsyangdi</a> that swept away parts of Chame, Dharapani, Naso, and Taal villages.&nbsp; Kamarkali Gurung, grew up on the banks of the Marsyangdi in Dharapani, and had never imagined that the tranquil river she knew could become such a monster. She had saved up to build her own three-story property with 17 rooms.&nbsp; Her family was away that June evening when the flood swept away her hotel. “Not even a spoon remained, everything was gone,” says Kamarkali. “Losing the hotel hurt like losing a loved one. The Marsyangdi flows through my house now, I can never go back.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260122100136_925087c286f18a0374f5d2fae5cc528b6e8b5a55e02813e470c49b923b4f193a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>SURVIVORS: Kamarkali Gurung's hotel was swept away by the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi. She now operates her hotel from a rented house in Dharapani.</figcaption> </figure>  Surendra Gurung, also a hotelier, was in Dharapani the night of the flood, and can still remember the fear as the river roared towards the village. “I did not know if I would live or die,” he says.&nbsp; Sirantal village was merely 10m above the Marsyangdi, and was completely destroyed by the flood. Thirty-two people were rescued by army helicopters, and most of the families have now relocated to Taal.&nbsp; One of them is Singha Bahadur Gurung who also ran a lodge for 20 years. “We did not have to buy anything except rice, the soil in Sirantal was so fertile,” he remembers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260122100136_9da9290e59a6d565ae9cb81a850f725ccd937fd658d0adfabccfe4114ec94bed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Singha Bahadur Gurung operated a lodge in Sirantal before the flood swept it away in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  Marsyangdi now flows through where Singha Gurung’s village used to be. “Ever since the flood, I am terrified every time it rains from June to August,” he says.&nbsp; The 2021 flood was during the monsoon, and was caused by unusually heavy rainfall in the catchment. A GLOF on the Marsyangdi would be much more destructive. Roshni Ghale, 46, runs a hotel in Taal, and escaped with her family to a nearby cave as the flood engulfed nearby homes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20260122100136_7a6b74a4c33b597e2815b035ec5d56ffea35923016518f0fb35bcc4fc925dccd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Roshni Ghale spent six months after the 2021 flood rebuilding her hotel in Taal. Tourism has steadily picked up in the four years since the flood. </figcaption> </figure>  “We spent the next six months after the flood rebuilding our lives, going to bed hungry many a night,” she recalls. In the four years since, tourism has picked up again, but the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unseen-wounds-of-climate-disasters"> community is still traumatised</a>. In the wake of the floods, the government had begun talks to rehabilitate and repatriate the community, but until now, they have been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/from-one-disaster-to-the-next">empty promises</a>. In any case, the people here, most of them experienced hoteliers whose livelihood depends on tourism, are unwilling to uproot their lives and start over elsewhere.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20260122100136_9a13c863422806eefdcd826ed12f9906e2372bd8f60f83c5351652eccf050384" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Thulagi glof"> <figcaption>Most of the survivors of the 2021 flood on the Marsyangdi from villages like Sirantal have relocated to the upstream village of Taal, which itself was hit by a monsoon flood in 2021.</figcaption> </figure>  DISASTER PREPAREDNESS Even though studies have assessed the risk of GLOFs in Manang and across Nepal, and warned about the damage that such floods could cause, it took until 2021 for early warning systems to be installed on the banks of the Marsyangdi and in the town of Taal.&nbsp; But beyond that, there has been little preparedness. Early warning systems and disaster preparedness are necessary not just along the Marsyangdi but also at and around Thulagi itself, say experts. Locals here are becoming increasingly aware of the risk posed by the expanding lake up the valley, but are reluctant to leave homes and communities that they have lived in for generations. The hydropower projects on the Dona Khola promises jobs, and the local government is upgrading the hiking trail to Thulagi Lake which has become a tourist attraction. “Manang now gets <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/too-little-snow-too-much-rain">too little snow and too much rain</a>, and the Marsyangdi charts its own course,” says Min Rashi Gurung, chair of Ward-1 of Naso rural municipality, where Thulagi is located. &nbsp; But help may be on the way.Last year, the Green Climate Fund (GCF) approved a $36.1 million grant to help Nepal reduce risk of GLOFs in Thulagi and four other glacial lakes. The project is managed by the government and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP). The project is set to begin next fiscal year, and will reduce the water level in the four glacial lakes including Thulagi, similar to what was done in Imja and Tso Rolpa, says Dinkar Kayastha at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology. &nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism - Nepal

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

Frontpage topic

In the first six days of the United States military campaign against Iran, Washington spent $11.3 billion, according to a Pentagon briefing to Senate appropriations staff. The entire annual operating budget of the United Nations stands at $3.45 billion for 2026, covering diplomacy, political missions, human rights monitoring, and the institutional machinery designed to prevent conflict. In less than a week, one country spent more than three times what the world invests in preventing conflict over an entire year.&nbsp;
Since then, the Pentagon has asked the US Congress for more than $200 billion in supplemental funding to sustain the campaign and replenish depleted munitions stocks.
This is not an anomaly. It reflects a structural feature of the international system: the consistent overfunding of war and the chronic underinvestment in prevention.
The imbalance is not primarily about scarcity. Global military expenditure exceeded $2.2 trillion in 2024 and continues to rise across regions. Over the same period, funding for multilateral institutions has stagnated or declined in real terms. The United Nations, whose core mandate is the maintenance of international peace and security, operates on a budget modest by the standards of national governments, with many member states in arrears on their assessed contributions. This pattern reflects a political economy that consistently privileges the financing of conflict over the financing of prevention.
Part of the explanation lies in political incentives. Military spending is visible, immediate, and readily justified to domestic audiences. It signals resolve and responsiveness to threat, and political leaders can mobilise support for such expenditure quickly, often with limited scrutiny once a crisis is framed in security terms.
Prevention operates differently. When diplomacy succeeds, when tensions de-escalate, when mediation holds, there is no spectacle and no clear political dividend. Success registers as absence. This asymmetry between the visibility of war and the invisibility of peace systematically distorts how resources are allocated.
Institutional dynamics reinforce this bias. Defence establishments are typically well-resourced and embedded in decision-making systems. Diplomatic and development institutions are more fragmented, more vulnerable to cuts, and often politically marginal.
In several major donor countries, development agencies have been weakened or absorbed into broader foreign policy structures, reducing their ability to act early and independently. At the multilateral level, the United Nations depends on assessed contributions that are frequently delayed or withheld, alongside voluntary funding that is unpredictable and often earmarked. Peacebuilding remains one of the least funded areas of the system, despite repeated recognition that prevention is more cost-effective than response.
The consequences are cumulative and mutually reinforcing. When preventive diplomacy capacities are under-resourced, opportunities for de-escalation narrow and conflicts are more likely to reach the point where military intervention appears unavoidable. When the United Nations is tasked with managing complex crises without adequate or predictable funding, its performance is constrained, reinforcing perceptions of ineffectiveness and further eroding political support for multilateral solutions.&nbsp;
The costs of conflict are then externalised globally: military escalation in strategically sensitive regions disrupts energy markets, trade routes, and supply chains, with the resulting increases in fuel and food prices falling disproportionately on low- and middle-income countries. A
t the same time, decisions to mobilise large-scale resources for military operations are typically taken within executive branches, with limited sustained public debate, while the underfunding of diplomacy and development is normalised as a technical constraint rather than recognised as a strategic choice.
It would be misleading to argue that the use of force is never justified. States face real security threats, and there are circumstances in which military action is deemed necessary. In the case of Iran, however, a functioning diplomatic framework had already demonstrated that constraints on its nuclear programme were achievable. The diplomatic option was dismantled, not exhausted. Senior American intelligence officials stated publicly that Iran was years away from the threat cited to justify the campaign.&nbsp;
But the current structure of incentives ensures that diplomacy is too often set up to fail: under-resourced before it begins, and then judged ineffective when crises escalate.
Rebalancing this political economy requires more than incremental budget adjustments. At the national level, it means integrating preventive approaches into foreign and security policy with corresponding investments in diplomatic capacity, development partnerships, and early warning systems, alongside greater transparency in how resources are allocated between military and non-military instruments.&nbsp;
At the multilateral level, member states need to provide more predictable and adequate financing for the United Nations, particularly in peacebuilding and conflict prevention. Addressing arrears in assessed contributions and strengthening flexible funding mechanisms would be immediate steps. Coalitions of middle powers, countries with a strong interest in a stable international order but less directly engaged in great power competition, have a particular role in advancing practical initiatives on prevention financing and institutional reform.
The issue is not whether resources exist. The scale of global military expenditure makes clear that they do. The question is whether states are willing to treat prevention not as an aspiration, but as a strategic priority.
As long as the current imbalance persists, the system will continue to produce the same outcome: rapid mobilisation of resources for war, and chronic underinvestment in the institutions that might make war less likely. This is not a failure of capacity. It is a failure of political choice.
Jordan Ryan is a member of the Toda International Research Advisory Council (TIRAC) at the Toda Peace Institute, and former UN Assistant Secretary-General with extensive experience in international peacebuilding, human rights, and development policy.
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlooks/why-the-world-funds-war-but-starves-peace/">the original</a> with permission.

World funds war but starves peace

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/homecoming-at-election-time" target="_blank">Pappu Mahara</a>'s campaign for RSP began in Malaysia as he came to Nepal with a suitcase plastered with PM Balendra Shah’s photo. 
Last week, after what he considers a “job well done” he was flying back to Malaysia with a suitcase without the election poster but with high hopes for his, and Nepal’s, future.
On Thursday, the day of his flight, the first session of Parliament was underway. Addressing the House, RSP Chair Rabi Lamichhane made an apology to Nepal’s Dalit community. 
Pappu was traveling to Malaysia with Lalit and Abhinash and all three are members of the Dalit community working in a factory to provide for families back home. Migration is an equaliser: it connects talent which is universal with opportunities that are not. It allows people a fresh start no matter their circumstances.
What we do not talk about as much, however, is that this <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/valuing-moral-migration" target="_blank">equaliser</a> itself is not equally accessible. Access to migration requires money, networks and information – all of which are unevenly distributed.
Among the three, Abhinash was part of an initiative by Migration Lab and the group International Manpower Recruitment targeted at the Musahar community to make meaningful migration accessible to all. He did not pay a single penny. He got exactly the job he had been promised. 
Abhinash and other Dalit youth may still have migrated despite not having money, but they would have had to borrow to pay hefty recruitment fees to fraudulent agents. The Musahar cohort <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/fee-free-migration-is-possible" target="_blank">included</a> workers who were victims to passport confiscation by middlemen without any job placement. 
As they prepared to fly back to Malaysia after a 45 day break, the three workers were examples of how targeted labour mobility can be designed to ensure migration benefits the poorest.
One answer is scale: reaching more marginalised communities with ethical recruitment pathways so more people can benefit.
The other is to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/social-remittance" target="_blank">link</a> them to countries offering even higher salaries and better protections for migrant workers.
Abhinash and others would have typically gone to India, a low-cost, low-risk and low-return destination, but they went to Malaysia where returns are significantly higher. But returns are relative: a Nepali in a Malaysian factory earns a basic salary of $422. The same factory job in Korea would pay $1,500 per month. In both cases, overtime hours add to the income.
But there is a catch. Barriers to entry are higher for countries like Korea. Workers have to learn the language and pass a test, unlike Malaysia when an employer interview is sufficient. We helped youth prepare for the job interview so they could show up in the best way possible and pass. But helping workers with language preparation is a wholly different proposition.
In interactions with youth from the Musahar community, I have often asked them informally why they do not opt for Korea. Abhinash, Lalit or others could easily pass the Korean language test if they put their minds to it.
There is lack of information (even misinformation) about migrating to places like Korea. Village-based agents will not share information about the Korean labour market in the villages because it is a government-to-government initiative where brokers have no role at all. 
While not a representative sample, many youth I spoke with do not know such details: how to apply, what the benefits are and how much it can cost. Abhinash thought that it costs upto Rs800,000 to migrate to Korea, which is not true. Actually a Korea placement costs just Rs70,000 which can easily be recuperated in less than a month.
There is also a network barrier. Musahar youth I spoke with did not know a single person who had migrated to Korea or Japan. Not knowing anyone who has attempted to go to Korea or Japan makes it daunting and out of reach. 
We have witnessed this first hand in the case of ethical migration in Malaysia. Word of mouth is one of the most important sources of job information for workers. Friends of Abhinash and Lalit ask us if there are similar ethical opportunities. It takes just one cohort to change perceptions of the unknown, we have learnt.
Lalit is setting up a WhatsApp group with peers from his village who also wanted to get jobs without recruitment fees. He already has a friend that he put in a good word about, 
“My friend is very smart and educated, but has never worked in his life,” he says. It was an honest referral, but not a blind one. 
When we create labour mobility initiatives, a part of the wider goal is also to enable such knock-on effects like building networks, role models, mentors, and reliable sources of information. Only then can we eliminate fraudulent actors.
The government’s apology to the Dalit community for historic discrimination has to be followed through with concrete action. This means creating job opportunities, including for foreign employment that are transformational.
This is in line with RSP’s own manifesto. Goal number 80 states: ‘Families from Dalit and marginalised communities who wish to go abroad for employment will be provided with concessional loans through banks based on recommendations or guarantees from local authorities.’
This commitment can be realised in many innovative ways so people from marginalized communities have access to not just any migration but the most rewarding, safe and transformational ones. 
Unlike India, Malaysia and the Gulf, access to high-return markets like Korea and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-japan-jobs-deal-still-stuck" target="_blank">Japan</a> has a more rigorous preparatory and selection stage. What barriers, for example, do youth from underserved communities like the Musahar face in accessing language preparation classes? Are there gaps in finances, social networks or reliable information that can be addressed? Can they access high-quality instruction? Sometimes, the barriers may be invisible like our own limiting beliefs stemming from unfamiliarity and lack of guidance and role models.
Publicly available administrative data on outmigration is not disaggregated for caste and other factors to help who is migrating, and by extension, who is not.
Not all migration is the same, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/our-great-stories" target="_blank">Nepalis</a> understand this all too well. Some return worse off than when they left, others are engaged in “survival migration”. Some come back having built assets or to build thriving businesses. A successful <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/helping-migrant-returnees-to-pivot-2urk8oo9" target="_blank">returnee</a> contributing to Nepal is inevitably a function of their migration experience: how much they earned, saved, learned, and were protected.
The earlier we become intentional through better program design, training partnerships, recruitment practices, and employer selection, the more likely it is to create positive and lasting change for migrants and their families. That we have an action oriented, proactive government gives us hope. 
We met Abhinash when he had doubts about whether he could actually migrate without paying fees. Now, back home for a break, he encouraged others to migrate ethically directly through recruiters and avoid middlemen. He has bought land, and now plans to build a house on it within the next two years.
A youth from the Musahar community or someone from Bajura should have the information and resources to migrate for rewarding overseas jobs if they wish to do so and to break out of the broker-trap that puts them in vulnerable positions. The new government should undertake measures to ensure that this great equaliser is also equally accessible to all.
Upasana Khadka heads Migration Lab, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

The great equaliser

In a classic arc of political sociology, a revolutionary figure takes several decades to complete their cycle: mobilisation, institutionalisation, and finally governance. 
However, the timeline of this trajectory has been telescoped in the case of Home Minister Sudan Gurung, who in 2025 described himself as a social activist and volunteer, has gone from the barricades of the GenZ protests to the mahogany desk of the Ministry of Home Affairs.
Gurung is a personal pick of Prime Minister Balendra Shah, and played a pivotal role in getting him to join the RSP by mediating with Rabi Lamichhane. His journey serves as a real test bed for the ‘Outsider-to-Insider Transition’, raising a fundamental question about someone who now leads the very apparatus that he once fought against: the police, intelligence service, and the bureaucracy.
Social capital can indeed be built during a crisis exacerbated by state failure, and that is where we first see Sudan Gurung — expediting relief delayed by systemic corruption and red tape. Gurung’s delivery aid through a social-media-driven volunteer network bypassed the government. 
Whether or not he really rushed a dying child to hospital after the 2015 earthquake does not matter, it has become an urban legend. 
His work evolved into the non-profit Hami Nepal in 2020, serving as a ‘parallel state’ mechanism that would later become central to his public identity. Later, his group sprang into action during the Covid crisis, organising oxygen cylinders and beds . He was there after flood disasters in Manang and Sidhupalchok, and even organised Rs15m worth of aid to Turkey after the 2023 earthquake. 
Moral Legitimacy became his primary source of power, and he strategically positioned himself as an alternative emergency response system. But the real rupture happened on 8 September 2025 when years of frustration, corruption scandals, lack of transparency and state accountability culminated in a rally that the next day descended into anarchy. 
There was no single leader. The movement was fully decentralised, but as elsewhere such upheavals produces a recognisable face. Among them was Sudan Gurung. Who despite being a millennial himself, became the most visible interlocutor of the GenZ movement. 
He negotiated with the state’s key actors, including the president and the Chief of Army staff, during the period of uncertainty When the country was on the brink. This led to the dissolution of parliament and the formation of the interim government under Sushila Karki, paving the way for the election on 5 March.
Since then, Sudan Gurung’s role has become contradictory. Within days of touching Prime Minister Karki’s feet after her swearing in, he was at the gates of Baluwatar spearheading midnight demonstrations calling for her resignation. He accused her and Home Minister Om Prakash Aryal of not consulting the youth over Cabinet appointments and not arresting the previous government officials.
This oscillation became a hallmark of Gurung’s own version of the ‘Radical Flank Effect’ — erratic behaviour to force the establishment to make concessions. 
On 18 January Gurung formally joined the RSP, and started campaigning from his home constituency of Gorkha-1. He won decisively and was appointed home minister by Balendra Shah. The transition was complete. 
As minister his role spans core security areas: overseeing internal security through the Nepal Police, Armed Police Force and the intelligence bureau. The man who took part in anti-government rallies is now in charge of the riot police that aresupposed control anti-government protests.
His portfolio also handles state administration matters such as citizenship, immigration, and border security, coordinates with the judicial system on prisons, detention, and policies related to punishment and clemency. For example will be overseeing the fraud case against his own party’s chair, Lamichhane.
In his book Power in Movement, political scientist Sidney Tarrow observes that social movement leaders encounter ‘institutional capture’ upon entering government. In a sociological paradox, the man who previously denounced the police for killing youth protesters is now the person who issues directives to those same forces.
Preventive detention, surveillance, and the control of public festivals are the same instruments that the former old guard employed to stifle his movement. The activist who demanded transparency at the B P Koirala Institute now manages the state’s most secretive security apparatus.
In this arc, Gurung is not alone, there are parallels around the world for leaders emerging from the ashes of revolt. It is not so much a prediction, but for Gurung the challenge is even more acute because youth expectations are so high.
The bar for performance has been raised by citizens demanding change and quicker, more efficient service delivery. He is under constant public scrutiny, which is why he has to take YouTubers every time he goes on inspections of the airport, the BP Highway, police stations, picking trash on the sidewalks or meeting the Swiss ambassador to ask about repatriating the ill-gotten wealth of politicians.
Sudan Gurung is facing intense public glare. There have been calls to reveal the truth behind Hami Nepal’s finances, the alleged links to Free Tibet, and lately not paying five years of rent for an illegal lakefront property in Pokhara. 
As minister, he will find that moral legitimacy alone is no longer sufficient, it must be reinforced by transparent and consistent institutional accountability. Sudan Gurung’s ascent is evidence that the public mostly trusts ‘outsiders’ during times of crisis. However, history also cautions us that the state only permits ‘insiders’ to operate. 
Gurung will have to organise systemic reform to inject the transparency of his volunteer days to the Home Ministry’s traditionally secretive disbursements. If he fails, he runs the risk of validating Michels’ Iron Law of Oligarchy, which would serve as a warning about how revolutionary energy is dissipated by the very structures it was intended to overthrow.
Nepal is watching the man who said he once held a dying child in his arms after an earthquake. The volunteer has become the Warden.
Nischal Raj Gautam is a student of Media Studies and Mass Communication at St. Xavier's College, Maitighar. He is a member of the EU Delegation's Youth Sounding Board (YSB), and a journalist for TheirWorld's The Education Issue 2026.

He said no to politics. Now he runs it.

The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) that swept Nepal’s post-GenZ election last month has taken office at a fraught period in global geopolitics. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-myth-of-red-lines">war in West Asia </a>could potentially reshape the world order with far-reaching<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/fuel-price-shock-hits-nepal-aviation"> strategic and economic consequences for Nepal</a> and the region.&nbsp;
The foreign policy of any state is largely dependent on the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-spheres-of-influence-illusion">extant structural features of the international system</a>, and Nepal and its remittance-driven economy faces a challenging geo-strategic environment.&nbsp;
The position of the United States in international affairs is still largely unrivalled, and provides a rather large window into the country. But the impact of greater Chinese power in Nepal is not yet properly understood, while India has always been and will continue to exert regional hegemonic influence.&nbsp;
With 5% of the global population contributing to 20% of the world economy, and flexing 50% of military might, the United States looms large just about everywhere in the world, including Nepal. Its rivalry with an emergent China puts Nepal in strategic proximity.&nbsp;
Whether it is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mcc-gets-green-light-in-nepal">Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) project </a>or the State Partnership Program (SPP), if President Donald Trump and the State and Defense Departments want it done in Nepal, they will get it done. The more germane question is whether this is beneficial to long term regional peace and stability. That is a consideration Washington will surely have to take into account moving forward.
How all this corresponds, or not, to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-india-power-play">Indian policy towards Kathmandu </a>is the real question that will affect Nepal, given the strained relations between Washington and New Delhi lately.&nbsp;
There should be no confusion that as far as New Delhi is concerned, Nepal is part and parcel of India’s grand security structure. It has always been so, going all the way back to the British period under Viceroy George Curzon, and perhaps even earlier.&nbsp;
The Chinese assessment of Nepal is defined by Beijing’s interest to ensure the stability and security of the Tibet Autonomous Region. Any great power wishes to expand its influence beyond its borders and China, after all, now considers itself a global power. It has the engineering and financial capability to project its interest on a neighbouring country like Nepal whose economy is 400 times smaller.&nbsp;
However, expansion of Chinese influence in Nepal becomes a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/a-past-foretold">matter of historical significance</a> only because it comes up against what India regards as its sphere of influence. New Delhi’s power especially vis-a-vis neighbouring South Asian states is grossly underestimated. India is emerging as the next great power in Asia, and at the current juncture of history, China is unlikely to become an alternative to India in Nepal.&nbsp;
COUNTERWEIGHT
This is also improbable and impractical because of the current power distribution in the international system. The United States is an off-shore power balancer, and is unlikely to countenance projection of Chinese influence into Nepal beyond certain limits.
India is not just a fellow democracy, but also serves as a counterweight to US fears of Chinese dominance of Eurasia. Washington can be expected to exert ever possible influence to ensure that China is not a decisive power in Nepal.
It may be the case that Beijing does not wish to enlist itself in such a position either such a manoeuvre in the Himalayan frontiers of the Subcontinent could draw the United States still more deeply into the Nepal’s political tapestry.
The result would be a more combustible Nepal with too many friction points to manage, and lead to a veritable headache deleterious to regional peace and stability.
How the new government in Nepal maintains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rsp-dos-and-don-ts">domestic peace and stability</a> will be closely watched in the region. It is a question contingent on a wait-and-see approach, as there are too many variables at play which cannot at present be set into watertight prognostications.
Nepal’s domestic politics therefore is governed by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/some-chicken-some-neck"> international developments</a>. The first quarter of the 21st century is already characterised by the interplay of interdependent variables.
As the geopolitical thinker Robert Kaplan describes it, conditions are taut like in a musical instrument where too much pressure at one point on the string can disrupt the entire system in ways that are unpredictable.
How that will play out in Nepal will be a function of the intersection of civilian and military leadership within Nepal, and the tripolar contestation of China, India and the United States in the region.
Bhaskar Koirala is an independent analyst associated with Peking University.&nbsp;

Tripolar contestation over Nepal

The war in West Asia has exposed the fragility of the economic architecture Nepal has built on over two generations. If the conflict continues, growth across developing Asia will slow and prices will rise. For Nepal, this will be felt through higher living costs, weaker economic activity, and growing uncertainty for the millions of families who depend on remittances.&nbsp; Nepal now needs to structurally transform from exporting labour to investing in domestic job creation. &nbsp; The country's current path toward a knowledge economy has a blind spot. A <a href="https://iids.org.np/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/unleashing.pdf" target="_blank">report</a> by the Institute for Integrated Development Studies (IIDS) in Kathmandu shows that IT export companies alone generated 7,228 jobs and income for 66,509 freelancers.&nbsp; We are building digital labour export, not an economy that accumulates institutional knowledge. The Nepali Upwork developer and a migrant construction worker in the Gulf are engaged in the same economic activity, but with different tools. Nepal’s reliance on a <a href="https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/BX.TRF.PWKR.DT.GD.ZS?locations=NP" target="_blank">remittance-driven economy,</a> means the country has failed to create enough <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/nepal/publication/unlocking-nepal-s-growth-potential" target="_blank">quality jobs</a> at home. For millions of young people, leaving the country is not a choice but a necessity to survive and support families back home. <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/nepal/publication/unlocking-nepal-s-growth-potential" target="_blank">Remittances</a> have no doubt helped reduce poverty. Thirty years ago, 55% of Nepal’s population lived on less than $2.15 a day, now it is 20% after the absolute poverty line was revised upwards. This progress has come at a cost — &nbsp;an economy that depends more on exporting workers than creating opportunities at home. This development reflects a deeper political failure to create meaningful jobs within the country. Since the democratic transition in 1991, Nepal’s leadership has largely recycled the same faces, with limited progress on job creation or industrial growth.&nbsp; Nepal cannot build a <a href="https://nipore.org/accelerating-nepals-startups/" target="_blank">knowledge economy</a> while its most ambitious people are outbound to Doha and Tokyo. We are also not just losing ‘labour’. We are losing the entrepreneurial risk tolerance of our youth.&nbsp; If the most ambitious 25-year-olds are abroad, who is left to support innovation and entrepreneurship? The same people who are working tirelessly abroad, are our biggest asset for development. Their work ethic and the know-how inurban renewal could well fit into the new RSP government’s mandate of 7% annual growth.&nbsp; The <a href="https://english.biznessnews.com/posts/-nepal%E2%80%99s-it-exports-cross-1-billion-" target="_blank">$1B milestone</a> of IT exports is a celebratory moment for Nepal. However, that cannot lead to a pathway to a $100 billion economy without innovation ecosystems that go beyond individual labour export. Companies like SecurityPal and industry associations such as NASIT have made significant efforts in building such an environment, recently championed by private sector leaders as a &nbsp;<a href="https://www.securitypalhq.com/blog/silicon-peaks" target="_blank">Silicon Peaks</a> model that emphasises a home growth tech cluster. The need to accelerate this transition is even more urgent with the escalating conflict in West Asia. &nbsp;The recent International Labour Organisation (ILO) <a href="https://www.ilo.org/sites/default/files/2026-03/Nepal%20LDC%20Graduation%20Employment%20Impacts%20Report.pdf" target="_blank">report</a> shows that LDC graduation is expected to adversely impact manufacturing with losses of $1 billion by 2030.&nbsp; If manufacturing takes such a large hit from losing trade preferences, then Nepal’s services and IT sectors need to structurally transform and shift from exporting individual talent to building firms. &nbsp; A generation’s frustration has finally forced a shift in Nepal’s political structure, handing the new government a clear mandate to fix failures. But the question still persists: what prevents Nepal from achieving sustained, productivity-driven growth? &nbsp;&nbsp; RSP is in the right place at the right time to put Nepal's economy on a firm footing. At the heart of Nepal’s economic underperformance lies a major development binding constraint: low returns to investment on projects.&nbsp; The government invests like a high-growth economy, with gross capital formation at around <a href="https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.GDI.FTOT.ZS?locations=NP" target="_blank">25–30 percent of GDP</a>. Yet economic growth remains modest. The problem is not how much the country invests, but how little it gets in return. One way to see this is by looking at how much investment is required to generate growth.&nbsp; Nepal needs large amounts of capital to produce relatively small gains in output (graph, below). For instance, in 2024, the ICOR was 8.29, this suggests that Nepal had to invest more than 8 units of capital to produce a one unit of additional economic output.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260406040412_605dc527641d2ff2dc5723ed8bbec946898331d5538a55b9941e32a0725bf811.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260406040412_605dc527641d2ff2dc5723ed8bbec946898331d5538a55b9941e32a0725bf811" data-rendition-name="original" width="1827" height="925" loading="lazy" alt="Economy graph"> <figcaption>Source: Author's calculation based on a Growth Diagnostic simulation</figcaption> </figure>  This reflects a deeper issue in how investment is allocated and executed. Capital is often locked in low-productivity sectors or diluted by delays, inefficiencies, and policy uncertainty.&nbsp; As a result, even high levels of investment fail to translate into sustained growth. Until investment shifts toward productive, firm-building activities, higher spending alone will not deliver results. &nbsp; To reverse this, the government must focus on raising the returns to investment by enabling firms to grow and compete. This requires a shift from managing scarcity to creating an environment where capital can generate consistent and predictable returns. A central priority should be given to attracting and retaining both domestic and foreign private investment. Investors do not just respond to direct incentives, but also to policy stability in the country. Nepal’s economy cannot sustain high growth if its human capital continues to leave the country.&nbsp; The goal should not simply be to create jobs, but to build companies that scale, innovate, and compete beyond Nepal. This requires supporting sectors with strong productivity potential and ensuring that firms can expand without being constrained by infrastructure gaps or regulatory friction. Finally, the state must improve the quality of its own investment. Public spending should focus on lowering the cost of doing business through reliable electricity, efficient logistics, and digital infrastructure.&nbsp; The GenZ movement took two days to bring change. The economic transformation of Nepal might take a generation. The RSP can accelerate this transition, but only if it focuses on building a better investment climate for business and not just feeding the global labour pool. Kailash Raj Pandey is an MPA/ID and MBA candidate at Harvard Kennedy School and MIT Sloan School of Management and a fellow at MIT Kuo Sharper Center for Innovation and Prosperity.&nbsp; Siddhartha Raymajhí is a policy researcher based in Kathmandu.

Creating a firm future for Nepal

There is a term from psychology that has been quietly making its way into conversations among academics, policy thinkers, and ordinary citizens trying to make sense of what they are watching unfold: moral injury.&nbsp;
It is not the fear of being harmed. It is the damage done when human beings are forced to witness, or feel implicated in, events that violate their deepest convictions about right and wrong, about the rules by which civilisation is supposed to operate. It is what happens when everything you were taught to believe the world was built upon begins to dissolve in front of you in real time.
That dissolution is now a daily experience for millions of people. It arrives through screens, through speakers, directly into homes and offices and classrooms. The language of this moment is not the language of diplomacy or statecraft. It is the language of annihilation: eviscerate, decimate, stone age, eliminate, go fetch. These are not negotiating positions; they are performances.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/fuel-price-shock-hits-nepal-aviation">Fuel price shock hits Nepal aviation</a>, Nepali Times
Red lines, we were told, meant something. They were the architecture of deterrence, the invisible grammar of international order. For decades, this language organised how states behaved toward one another, how the public understood the limits of acceptable conduct, how generations of students were taught to think about power and its constraints.&nbsp;
Those students are now watching, in stunned disbelief, as line after line is crossed with impunity, and the consequences amount to more performance, more language, more noise. The red lines were always partly mythological — now they are undeniable.
DEMONSTRATION OF DOMINANCE
Power as performance changes everything about how conflicts unfold and how they end. When a war becomes primarily about the demonstration of dominance rather than the achievement of defined strategic objectives, there is no natural off-ramp.&nbsp;
Those who did not start this conflict and are most damaged by it may have to bear the unbearable reality that it must, to some degree, play itself out before any durable arrangement becomes possible. A forced resolution with no structural legitimacy would merely constitute an intermission.
Meanwhile, the real costs accumulate on a ledger that bravado consistently obscures: loss of life and livelihood, destroyed infrastructure and ecosystems, the hollowing out of a human rights architecture built over a century, and massive flows of displaced people.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/when-geopolitics-becomes-lived-reality">When geopolitics becomes lived reality</a>, Sophia Kalantzakos
Beneath all of this is the quiet structural transformation of the global economy, where thousands of layoffs already demonstrate not a cyclical correction but a permanent reorganisation of how work, capital, and technology relate to one another.&nbsp;
Markets gyrate, offering opportunities for speculation that a small number of people can exploit while a much larger number absorb the losses. This is not volatility. It is displacement dressed up as opportunity.
Much is sacrificed in the process. Humanity is living through the greatest technological revolution of the 21st century: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/ai-takeover-of-all-media">artificial intelligence</a>, the energy transition, the restructuring of entire industrial systems, the preparation of workforces for a world that will look transformed sooner than we think. These challenges demand serious investment, serious governance, and serious political imagination.&nbsp;
The funds to prepare are instead being diverted to defence industries for conflicts driven by the logic of 19th- and 20th-century warfare. Bad things are happening, but importantly, our capacity to respond is being actively depleted while no one is looking.
This week, as these wars grind on and these words of annihilation fill the air, the largest initial public offering in history was confidentially filed, according to media reports. SpaceX, valued at potentially $1.75 trillion, prepares to raise more capital than any company has ever raised in a single public offering, with stated ambitions that include data centres in orbit and a base on the Moon.&nbsp;
The previous record belonged to Saudi Aramco, a company built on the fossil fuel economy whose contradictions we are still living inside.&nbsp;
The new record belongs to a company whose founding logic is that Earth is a problem to be escaped from rather than a home to be cherished. We cannot afford to be distracted from what is important by the deafening noise of performance power.
What does it actually mean to be powerful in the 21st century, not rhetorically, but structurally and durably. The states and leaders that will matter in the coming decades are those that invest in their populations, that govern the technological transition with foresight, that understand energy and resources and climate not as inconveniences but as the central organising facts of this era.&nbsp;
It is not a coincidence that so many global leaders are currently showing restraint, and in some cases quiet dignity, refusing to be drawn into the theatre of escalation.&nbsp;
They are calculating differently, working through back channels and careful diplomacy because they understand that any durable solution will have to be built on solid foundations. Coercion, arm-twisting, the transactional humiliation of allies and adversaries alike are not the tools of durable power. These are the tools used to dismantle rather than reform, to torch rather than adapt.
No doubt there were deep flaws in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/might-might-be-right-after-all">unraveling international order</a>. It was uneven in its benefits, slow to reflect the rise of new powers, and ill-equipped for the challenges of this century. But it offered something that is now being actively upended: a degree of predictability, a framework of rules that created the conditions for negotiation and coexistence.&nbsp;
The better answer was never demolition. It was transformation, a harder and slower work that required exactly the kind of serious political imagination that performance power cannot supply.&nbsp;
The people absorbing moral injury today are not naive. They are paying attention. And the question that will define the coming decades is not whether the old order survives; it’s already too late for that. The question is what those who understand the stakes are willing to build in its place.
Sophia Kalantzakos is a Professor of Environmental Studies and Public Policy at New York University Abu Dhabi. She is the author of China and Geopolitics of Rare Earths and The EU, US, and China Tackling Climate Change: Policies and Alliances for the Anthropocene. This piece originally appeared in <a href="http://ekathimerini.com/" target="_blank">ekathimerini.com</a>. Reprinted with permission.

The myth of red lines

Nepali Times #1306

‘One early morning, we heard the ambassador’s wife cry out, “Ram, Ram, Ram!” A disaster has befallen Nepal!” She had heard on the radio that a fire had consumed Singha Durbar." This is not about the arson attack on 9 September 2025, but the one on 8 July, 1973. It started in the South Wing of the then single-largest building in all of Nepal. It took two days to bring the blaze under control, requiring the use of explosives to demolish one wing to protect the imposing western facade. As Bhekh Bahadur Thapa recalls in the English translation of his memoir A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy, he was then on leave from the Nepal government serving with the IDRC in Ottawa.&nbsp; He had already served as Nepal’s Finance Secretary at age 25, went on to be Finance Minister and Governor of Nepal Rastra Bank. He was already younger than some of the GenZ ministers in Nepal’s present RSP government. Thapa, now 89, was at the launch of the book in February which was attended by former diplomats and bureaucrats. After speeches by panelists, there was a question from the audience about how Thapa had managed to be the diplomat he was, managing Nepal’s international relations on the world stage.&nbsp; Writer and journalist Akhilesh Upadhyay, who was moderating the panel, responded by going into the section of the book where we see Thapa as an ambassador to the US, playing tennis with White House officials, cultivating a network of contacts to project the identity and welfare of Nepal, and making it possible for a state visit by King Birendra to Ronald Reagan’s America. The book is full of anecdotes that suggest Thapa was a clever and strategic diplomat, always calm and unruffled, easily making friends in high places with his maturity and engaging sense of humour. Thapa’s memoir is heavy on details about Nepal’s administrative history during the years he was active in public service, serving as minister and ambassador under three kings: Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra, and alongside five prime ministers.&nbsp; Aside from an insider look on how certain treaties, development deals and research projects in Nepal came into fruition, Thapa goes into great detail about his personal and professional relationships with the kings, ministers, ambassadors, foreign leaders and politicians.&nbsp; As a reader, one is struck by the level of detail around the events that unfolded in Nepal over the years during Thapa’s tenure. Was Thapa recording a journal over the years of the events and the conversations that transpired, or were they committed to his phenomenal memory? Either way, the reader gets a glimpse of Nepal’s recent history from the early days of the Panchayat, through the People’s Movement and the democracy period, the Maoist insurgency, Royal Palace massacre of 2001, and Gyanendra’s coup of 2005.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1584" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How to win friends and influence nations NT"> </figure>  Not enough is said about the political parties of the time whose presence led to the way Nepal’s multiparty democracy came to be shaped. The book keeps its focus on the administration and the key figures around it, mostly those in the Panchayat era. Towards the second half of the book, we do start to hear about political parties, but not in great depth. Another figure whose presence in the book is conspicuously less prominent is that of his wife, Rita Thapa — the person who seems to have rescued him every time financial quandary or family care became a challenge. Yet, we do not see her as a full person. Perhaps because of the personal tragedies in his life, the children are also barely mentioned.&nbsp; The book is therefore less personal and more technical. Throughout, we learn about Thapa’s thinking as he navigated the world of diplomacy to win him the trust of those who mattered. There are tips here for a new generation of Nepali officials and diplomats about how much commitment and focus is needed to be good at one’s job and serve the national interest. This book adds to tomes that have been written on Nepal’s fragile relationship with India. ‘India has always wished for Nepal to remain dependent on it,’ writes Thapa, who served as Nepal’s ambassador to India and later in the Eminent Persons Group &nbsp;on Indo-Nepal relations that has been allowed to languish. The book has several insights into the Indo-Nepal trysts with diplomacy and agency.&nbsp; China’s role is also recorded, viewed through conversations during a visit to Beijing, but all that was before Nepal’s neighbour to the north emerged as a world economic and military power. The book also has such sudden instances of quirkiness and humour. For instance, we see a young Thapa in America explaining to a government official why he would like to return to Nepal instead of settling down in the US. “Because, Nepal is beautiful,” he said. The text is immaculate and does not read much like a translation, credit for which clearly goes to the team that put the edition together: translator Prawin Adhikari, &nbsp;Anagha Neelakanthan and Bhekh Thapa’s daughter, Manjushree. As Nepal enters a new era of governance and diplomacy, A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy should be essential reading for students of political science, economics and foreign affairs who can gain a fresh perspective on the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; There are dozens of forgotten state secrets recorded in the book, but the reader must also remember this is a story told from one person’s perspective and there may be others.&nbsp; So, what really made Thapa the diplomat he was? I met him in 2004 at the Kantipur TV studio when he was serving as king Gyanendra’s foreign minister. He was there for a studio interview, and I was just done with my English newscast.&nbsp; He surprised me at the door: “Pratibha! I’ve been reading your articles in The Kathmandu Post. You must keep writing.” I thanked him, glad to have been noticed for my work by a stranger. That was perhaps one of the things that set Thapa apart — he excelled at staying close to those in power, while also noticing those who were not.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Book details"> </figure>

How to win friends and influence nations

Once a quiet niche in Nepal’s art world, abstract works are gathering a certain following. Art aficionados and collectors have embraced the freedom this art form provides, making the canvas a compelling, unfiltered space for expression and raw energy. Nepal’s transition into modernism and abstract art began in the mid-1900s as the country opened to the world. The pioneer was Lain Singh Bangdel who was exposed to the modern European school while studying in Paris in the 1950s. It was Bangdel who infused abstract styles to modern Nepali art and inspired generations of new talent.&nbsp; Fast forward 65 years. For the first time, 26 abstract Nepali artists are coming together for an extravaganza at Taragaon Next titled ‘Forms of Abstraction’. The exhibition brings the works of Kiran Manandhar, Sangee Shrestha, Sushma Rajbhandari, Bidhata KC, NB Gurung, Jeevan Rajopadhyay, Laya Mainali, Nabendra Limbu, among others.&nbsp; The exhibition explores themes such as motion, emotion, nature, architecture, geometry and culture, but always melding culture and heritage into modern visual themes. “Unlike purely formalist approaches, abstraction often emerges from cultural memory, spiritual philosophy, and lived environments,” explains Roshan Mishra, curator and director at Taragaon Next. “Even in its most non-representational forms, Nepali abstraction retains a connection to tradition by transforming rather than abandoning earlier ways of seeing and making.” The exhibition is supported by the Saraf Foundation for Himalayan Traditions and Culture and also acknowledges the contribution of late artists who helped shape the abstract art scene in modern Nepal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260408150412_7e9a11ca89bffbb071ea9873a599f51de49ef83ab51893002815f7ac8bef3c47.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260408150412_7e9a11ca89bffbb071ea9873a599f51de49ef83ab51893002815f7ac8bef3c47" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1024" loading="lazy" alt="Mainstreaming abstract art NT"> </figure>  The exhibition foregrounds abstraction not as a departure, but as a continuum, an evolving language shaped through time, practice, and context. The artworks presented include mixed media, acrylic on canvases and water colour on paper. Jeevan Rajopadhyay has been working with abstract art for 20 years, and his work is distinguished by the vibrant use of colour and fluid forms, often evoking a sense of movement and harmony for viewers.&nbsp; “Abstract art exists beyond what is seen by human eyes ti evoke feelings and emotions,” says Rajopadhyay.&nbsp; Nabendra Limbu’s Samaahit highlights years of deep exploration into abstraction, displaying an emotional interplay of colour and form. “I explore rhythm, repetition, and space, where colour and form engage in an emotional dialogue, unfolding contemplation, movement, and what exists beyond perception,” he explains.&nbsp; But because abstract art resonates at an emotional rather than rational level, the paintings cannot be explained in words. Artists use expressionism precisely because its message exists in a different dimension from language. Laya Mainali has been painting in the abstract for 40 years has two works titled ‘Antaskaran’ and ‘Creation’ on display, both of which come with distinct colour palettes and shapes. He says: “Abstract art is an expression, a mixture of colours and a medium through which feelings can be poured out.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260408150412_1852cac9fd9a2d392a11986dd68dbe88e13ccb4c80e618bbabde32f15796171f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260408150412_1852cac9fd9a2d392a11986dd68dbe88e13ccb4c80e618bbabde32f15796171f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1514" loading="lazy" alt="Mainstreaming abstract art NT"> </figure>  Kiran Manandhar’s ‘Mero Man Ka Kura’ appeals to the eye, as darker shades dominate the foreground fading away to lighter tones. Manandhar has made a name for himself as an artist of repute, and says abstract art is actually more real for him. “The communication through the combination of colours, textures and forms stimulate emotion and evoke memories and moods, and that what gives me the energy to return again and again to this art form,” he adds.&nbsp; Sushma Rajbhandari’s work also blends tradition and modernity while ‘Sacred Landscape’ by Binod Pradhan, ‘Snowy Granulation’ by NB Gurung and ‘Antardwandwa’ by Sangee Shrestha add heft to the exhibition. Forms of Abstraction can be viewed as individual works, or seen as a collective creativity in Nepali modern art. Every artwork on display spread across multiple galleries tells different stories, each speaking differently to different audiences.&nbsp; Roshan Mishra hopes the exhibition will make abstracts more accesisble: “There is minimal discussion around abstract art in Nepal. Paradoxically, the more people do not understand the paintings, the more successful the exhibition will be.” Forms of Abstraction Taragaon Next, Boudha 2 April - 24 May&nbsp; 10am-5:30pm

Mainstreaming abstract art

Emotions are an indispensable part of being human, but in the world of social media networks and the virtual world of augmented reality and AI, people are more connected digitally than they are in their real lives. This creates an emotional distance. The exhibition Antardrishti (Inner Vision) at <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/" target="_blank">The Kalā Salon</a> &nbsp;at the Chhaya Centre in Thames attempts to bridge that widening gap. It encourages visitors to pause, reflect and better understand themselves and their identity. Artist <a href="https://www.instagram.com/sangeeshrestha/" target="_blank">Sangee Shrestha</a>, draws viewers into her own creative world of drawings and paintings on canvases with ample use of red, black, blue, white, grey and green. Each of them features an open or closed eye, signifying the real world and not the make believe one on an Android phone. &nbsp; “One eye is closed so as to push away negative thoughts and bad omens. The other eye is open and drawn wide so as to keep our vision wide and be vigilant,” explains Shrestha, an multiple award-winning artist who has been churning out powerful works since 1993.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026040113044_2392a19f19d11d7abb90b1e880d1935c8c78e816a8636f6cf1ecf2e7409b7aa9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026040113044_2392a19f19d11d7abb90b1e880d1935c8c78e816a8636f6cf1ecf2e7409b7aa9" data-rendition-name="original" width="3546" height="2130" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Geometric figures are an important aspect of her work, and Shrestha uses them to draw various parts of the human anatomy and adornments. Hand gestures hold special significance and meaning in art which has such a spiritual aura that even viewing them feels like an act of devotion. Shrestha refrains from giving a title or a name to her works, and explains: “I deliberately put up my works without a title so that viewers can interpret my creations in their own way,” she adds. Antardrishti is a labour of love that took two years. The show also includes ceramic masks, pots and Shrestha feels that working with clay is therapeutic not just for the artist but for viewers. Each figurine radiates positivity while also offering us a glimpse of the mind that guided the fingers that shaped these forms. Curator Sophia L Pande says as much: “For this exhibition, Sangee Shrestha set herself a challenge to create multiple sets of art that complement each other in theme and vision.” One of the highlights of the exhibition is a 100m long drawing of Egyptian gods and figures from mythical folklore that Shrestha made during one of her visits to Egypt. &nbsp;“What I found interesting is that the Egyptian gods and their stories are also similar to those of our own gods and goddesses,” says Shrestha.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026040113044_ade8452161b3831e1eacf3f489c7d3ae9d5899a93958d0b24f77e1d726dd2168.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026040113044_ade8452161b3831e1eacf3f489c7d3ae9d5899a93958d0b24f77e1d726dd2168" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2866" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  The death of her mother three years ago changed the trajectory and content of her work, transforming the way she looked at the world and its transience. She was not confident about her own creative process anymore and started a journey to find her own identity and started pouring her thoughts into canvases While many of her works during this phase featured red, black and other dark colours, one was that of white butterflies flying out from a box, symbolising freedom and inner peace. And somehow they all force us to contemplate impermanence. The focal point of the exhibition is a series of devi goddesses as four separate artworks in a composite in grey, black and a dash of yellow. The use of dull colours signifies the clouds of thoughts, Shrestha says.&nbsp; The painting also includes three stages of a flower in a single branch: the bud, a half-open blossom and a flower with fully unfurled petals. “They depict different stages of human life -- childhood, youth and old age,” explains Shrestha. Also on exhibit are sculptures on metal pieces which reflect spirituality and religion. Climate change is another theme depicted in the melting of the Himalaya. Shrestha tells us: “I wanted my creations to be seen as more than just aesthetically pleasing. But to impart the message to make the best of what as we live our lives.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026040113044_6e38db8d89ae52ea47be66560c1ef6900e00b1196afa2a50c440aa9b534959e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026040113044_6e38db8d89ae52ea47be66560c1ef6900e00b1196afa2a50c440aa9b534959e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="3139" height="2324" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Antardrishti by Sangee Shrestha <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/" target="_blank">The Kalā Salon</a>,&nbsp; Chhaya Center, Thamel Until 11 April 11 am-5pm

Artist explores her inner self

This is the 91st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

The nation’s daughter

This is the 90th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. The Musahar community lives in the Nepal Tarai and India, they have been historically excluded and are at the bottom of the economic and caste ladder. Many families still work as sharecroppers for landlords, but overseas migration is changing their lives as this conversation between Abhinash Sada and Lalit Majhi shows. Both were home for a vacation from work in Malaysia which coincided with the election. They are hopeful that the new RSP government will improve things.&nbsp; Abhinash: I was born into such poverty that we worried about the next meal. My family used to work near the river, mining sand and gravel. They were paid in rice. Sometimes we children went to the field to help with work, not for money but for the roti we got for lunch. I was eight when I was sent to school, and I still remember the first day. Lalit: We were classmates. Abhinash already knew how to recite the Nepali alphabet, but did not know how to read the letters. Meanwhile, I knew how to write s v u but did not know what those letters stood for. I just liked using a stick to scribble the alphabets in the sand while tending to the water buffalos. We finally learnt the alphabets properly in school. We used to skip school a lot but became interested after they offered sports like volleyball, and they also let us use a computer once every week. We started focusing on our studies, and Abinash used to stay at my my house so we could start studying together at 4AM because the teacher said our minds were freshest in the morning.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1787" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> </figure>  Abhinash: I used to sleep over at Lalit’s house so we could get up and study together early in the morning before school. We enjoyed studying so much we even asked the teacher for more homework. Sometimes, we used to skip class to do some work to earn some money so we could afford stationery or uniforms. Lalit ranked better than me in class.&nbsp; Lalit: My best memories of childhood was us swimming in the river after the rains when water levels were high. My mother thought we would get sick, but we did not listen. When we finally came home in the evenings, she would be fuming. My father worked in Punjab as a contractor and took fellow villagers there to work.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040432_0f8b3936c1edef4ff2e3682a66131278bf822022b1e8ae3aca1418e0fa232136.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260411040432_0f8b3936c1edef4ff2e3682a66131278bf822022b1e8ae3aca1418e0fa232136" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash with his family.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: My father went to Saudi Arabia to support the family. When he came home for a break, he enrolled me in a private school so my English would improve and private schools were also stricter. I was in Grade 5 in the government school, but the private school put me in kindergarten. It felt strange because everyone else was much younger. After three years, I rejoined Grade 6 in the government school but Lalit had already moved on to Grade 8. We no longer studied together. Lalit: I did not pass my SLC. Instead of retaking the exam, I went to Chennai and got a dishwashing job although I was promised waiter. I came back after a month and started getting my paperwork done for Qatar. I borrowed Rs100,000 from a villager at 36% interest. Even so, in three years there I helped my family repay loans and bail out my eldest brother who had been cheated in Malaysia. All my savings in Qatar and what my middle brother earned in Malaysia went to rescue our oldest brother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_716000dceca4fbf31b9364fa712e30cbdca83783d59c8e10b47f6ae3e39b8825.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260411040436_716000dceca4fbf31b9364fa712e30cbdca83783d59c8e10b47f6ae3e39b8825" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Lalit with his mother.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: We Musahars can work hard. Our forebears worked from childhood tilling the fields of land owners whose children went to school. Saying no was not an option. Our fathers’ generation prioritised education because they did not want us to be trapped in servitude. I studied until Grade 12 but failed my exam. I worked in a sweet factory in Bangalore to support my parents. I returned after a year, and did odd jobs in a brick factory and sometimes as a day labourer with my father. I did not go abroad because I did not have money and people were not willing to lend to us. It was only when I got a free recruitment job in Malaysia that I decided to migrate.&nbsp; Lalit: I came back from Qatar, got married and remigrated to Malaysia with Abinash. It has been 2.5 years and we work in the same factory and share a dorm room just as we did as kids. With the money we earned, we have bought land back in our village. We are returning to Malaysia after our vacation here. My wife put mehendi in my palms, and told me that I should remember her whenever I see it. I also gave her a silver chain I was wearing as memento. My wife said the mehendi will last about a month and will fade away, that is the most difficult part of being overseas — but after a few weeks the working life takes over and we get occupied with duty.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1787" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash's family seeing him off in 2023.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_5a4faef596e76365fce3181fe8f3a215306755287cbe353c433e34758df0aaec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260411040436_5a4faef596e76365fce3181fe8f3a215306755287cbe353c433e34758df0aaec" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash and Lalit getting welcomed by family after their return.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: The election coincided with my vacation and I voted for the RSP in both ballots. They have already started building a road in our area, so there is hope. People in other parties were angry, but I told them my one vote would not have made a difference, they would have still lost. You can feel new energy in the village now, maybe things will change. We Musahars have always been discriminated against, even though our situation has improved. At least we do not have to worry about food anymore. It is not just my father who is the breadwinner. Now, I am also earning to support the family.&nbsp; Lalit: The whole point about migrating is to take care of my parents and make sure they are happy. They are my role models, and struggled all their lives for us. They invested in our studies so we would not have to live through what they did. They are happy that we are earning and supporting them. We bought land with the money saved in Malaysia. Now, as we go back, the next goal is to build a house. Then we will think about our future. When Abhinash and I were children, we thought we would be ठुलो मान्छे one day. I looked up to my teacher and wanted to be like him. But now that I am grown up, I do not have anyone I look up to. I just make my goals and achieve them.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_83af55ced9108a0604495df2f808e497f6ecb73d1772c30af72cef94a4f21915.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260411040436_83af55ced9108a0604495df2f808e497f6ecb73d1772c30af72cef94a4f21915" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> </figure>  Abhinash: We have our whole lives ahead of us, and it is our turn to support our parents. What is the point of anything if our family is not happy? I do not want my parents to have to depend on others for money. We Musahars have been historically mistreated. We are known to be too trusting, and we do as we are told. We grew up believing that we were underdogs because of our caste. People still treat us as untouchable, although less than before. We were invited to parties but made to sit separately; at friends’ houses, we were asked to remain outside. We accepted all this because that is way it always was. Even when it made us feel bad. My younger brother stopped going to parties altogether because he did not like that discriminatory treatment. The new generation is not like that thankfully.&nbsp; Lalit: I once ran away from a feast because the Musahar invitees had to eat last. High caste or low caste, we all have the same red blood. The young ones thankfully are not like that. We were invited to a wedding recently during this vacation from Malaysia, and all of us young boys sat and ate together. But if the elders had been around they would have asked Abhinash and me to sit separately from the others.&nbsp;

From Mahottari to Malaysia

Know your Ministers

Prime Minister Balendra Shah on Wednesday broke tradition and met with 17 foreign envoys collectively, a move that was a notable departure from how his predecessors operated.&nbsp;
Shah had already set himself apart by talking less, listening more, and delegating to trusted friends. But by meeting all ambassadors at one go in the presence of the Foreign Ministry, he signalled a paradigm shift in how he wants Nepal to be seen: no longer just balancing India and China, but as a country confident about its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/tripolar-contestation-over-nepal">strategic importance and place in the world</a>.
In just two weeks, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rsp-dos-and-don-ts">RSP has sprung into action </a>on multiple fronts to implement its ambitious 100-point, 100-days action plan. It has taken short-term measures to mitigate the impact of the Gulf war, as well as medium- and long- term measures to streamline the bureaucracy. A few high-profile figures have been made examples of to drive the message home.
Earlier this week, the government recalled six politically appointed ambassadors, the most notable being long-serving Shankar Sharma from New Delhi. The Kathmandu District Court issued arrest warrants against former prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba and his former foreign minister wife Arzu Rana on charges of money laundering and corruption.
Each ministry has been trying to clean up the accumulated rot from the past three decades: regulatory overhaul of microfinance, education, health and service delivery.&nbsp;
These actions widely disseminated campaign-style on YouTube and TikTok have made most Nepalis hopeful that the party they installed in power means business.
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BACKLASH
But such attempts to overhaul a long-entrenched political culture were bound to face backlash. In their impatience and enthusiasm to get things done, some of Prime Minister Shah’s ministers have over-reached.
It was common knowledge that government-paid advertising in the mainstream press was kickback-driven, but the PMO’s directive that official notices be published or broadcast only on state-run media has been denounced — especially as the media industry struggles to stay afloat.
More serious are some recent appointments by ministers of relatives and figures closely associated with the RSP to key positions. This has rankled because this party built its political plank on ending nepotism and graft.&nbsp;
News that Home Minister Sudan Gurung allegedly had not paid rent on leased land, which illegally encroached on the lake in Pokhara did not help. &nbsp;
Prime Minister Shah himself has come under scrutiny for appointing a kitchen cabinet full of male buddies from his time as Kathmandu mayor. To douse criticism he brought in as adviser investigative journalist Deepa Dahal, who has exposed corruption in high places of the previous coalitions.&nbsp;
Shah’s appointment of another political adviser Asim Shah to the head Constitution Amendment Task Force, is also seen as problematic. He is a filmmaker and former lawmaker, but does not have a background in constitutional law.&nbsp;
Even more controversial is the Cabinet’s decision to appoint RSP Chair Rabi Lamichhane’s legal counsel, Narayan Kandel, as Attorney General. Kandel used to be a UK permanent resident, and does not have as much experience practicing law in Nepal.&nbsp;
Kandel’s appointment drew flak and raised eyebrows, and with the pending legal cases against Lamichhane this appointment represents a flagrant conflict of interest.
Health Minister Nisha Mehta was also accused of favouritism after reappointing Junu Shrestha, wife of Labour Minister Dipak Kumar Shah, as member of the Health Insurance Board which had earlier suspended her. The Labour Minister’s rambling rant at the Board’s meeting on Tuesday has not helped the RSP’s image.&nbsp;
(UPDATE: On Thursday, Prime Minister Shah sacked the Labour Minister after the RSP found him in breach of the party's code of conduct and discipline. He served 14 days in the Cabinet, one of the shortest tenures for a minister in Nepal )
It is hard to know what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ball-in-balen-s-court">Balendra Shah is thinking</a>, and how Rabi Lamichhane is going to justify some of these moves. After all, making politics, governance, and bureaucracy a meritocracy has been the core tenet of the RSP, and it risks alienating its mainly youth base if these missteps persist.
But at least for now, most RSP supporters seem to be giving the party the benefit of doubt.

Nepal’s new government springs into action

Top news

Twenty years ago this week, we reported about how malnutrition was indirectly responsible for 70% of all child mortality in Nepal, and how inadequate food increased susceptibility to diarrhoea, measles and acute respiratory infection.
In 2025, malnutrition is still one of the biggest causes of child mortality, except now it is not simply a lack of food but also too much junk food in the diet. Purchasing power has increased, but we are eating more of what we should not be eating.
Excerpt of a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=570">report </a>published in <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_256.pdf">issue #256 15 – 21 July 2005</a>:
Despite recent official statements about rising average living standards, grinding poverty and the conflict, the effects of junk food in cities have made undernourishment and malnutrition a serious national epidemic.
Protein-energy malnutrition affects 63 percent of Nepali children which means they don't get enough food to ensure normal physical and mental development. More than half of Nepali children are therefore physically stunted, and although this is reversible if the child starts eating enough after age two, they may suffer learning disabilities as well if undernourishment persists .
Hunger increases their susceptibility to diarrhoea, measles and acute respiratory infection. Diarrhoeal dehydration alone causes an estimated 30,000 child deaths every year as undernourished children are weaker and more likely to be brought down by the vicious spiral of disease and malnutrition. Combined with worms, undernourishment is seen by many as Nepal's primary health concern for children.
Malnutrition hits many Nepali children even before they are born because their mothers don't have adequate food while pregnant. Between 30-50 percent of Nepali children are born underweight, below 2.5 kg.
For archived material of Nepali Times of the past 20 years, site search: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/">nepalitimes.com</a>

Malnutrition

Samsung Nepal has opened pre-orders for the Galaxy A57 5G and A37 5G. Both phones run Samsung’s One UI 8.5, featuring AI capabilities like voice transcription, Circle to Search, and photo editing. They feature a 50MP triple-camera system, a Super AMOLED display, and six years of OS and security updates.

The nation’s daughter

World funds war but starves peace

How to win friends and influence nations

The great equaliser

From Mahottari to Malaysia

He said no to politics. Now he runs it.

Know your Ministers

Nepal’s new government springs into action

Mainstreaming abstract art

Tripolar contestation over Nepal

Creating a firm future for Nepal

Climate

No forests, no economies

Karnali Aquatic Reserve

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

Nepali Times 25th anniversary special: Rewind 2000-2025.

THIS WEEK ON E-PAPER

Opinions

No nation for women

How to win friends and influence nations

Mainstreaming abstract art

Artist explores her inner self

Nepal approves loan

Rs1.45 trillion

2-day weekend

20YEARS AGO THIS WEEK

The past, the present, and the future are really one

Featured Videos

Mass migration from Muktikot

Painting walls to bring down walls

Pāhāñ Charey पाहाँ चःह्रे