From its headwaters near Mansarovar on the Tibetan Plateau to its confluence with the Ganga in India, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/faith-to-reality">the Karnali</a> remains one of the last great free-flowing rivers in the Himalaya. At a time when most major Asian rivers have been dammed by concrete, the Karnali still surges, migrates, floods and recedes according to its own natural rhythms. This sustains an entire living system -- wildlife, communities and cultures — that cannot be replicated once a river is turned into a staircase of reservoirs. The Karnali is a natural artery for western Nepal. It nourishes fertile floodplains, recharges aquifers, supports fisheries and connects remote communities.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251221101240_213faa0e9da42af63e6c4f8a41e23a96efbd9f29a1d148227d65d2f16bb64b53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251221101240_213faa0e9da42af63e6c4f8a41e23a96efbd9f29a1d148227d65d2f16bb64b53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Confluence of the Humla and Mugu Karnali.</figcaption> </figure>  Bardia National Park and its rich biodiversity, including the tiger and fresh water dolphins, depend on the river and its seasonal interaction with the floodplain and wetlands. Riverine birds, crocodilians, endemic fish, all depend on the river. Millions of people in Nepal and India rely on the Karnali (called Ghaghara in India) for household use, irrigation and livelihoods. This living river now faces <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dams-and-dreams-a-journey-down-the-karnali">a cascade of proposed hydropower projects</a>. So far, the Upper Karnali &nbsp;(900MW) and the massive Karnali-Chisapani (10,800MW) have been purposed. Both have been mired in controversy and have been delayed. Construction of smaller projects like the Bheri-Babai Diversion are already underway.&nbsp; The Upper Karnali is a Rs146 billion project first purposed in 2006. It started construction earlier this year with the Indian conglomerate GMR leading the task. Even so it faces a setback as Bangladesh cancelled the power purchase deal of 500MW.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109124_80c381c4299dd7e18dbbcacb26e567edc5cfffba76d428e3b325dd194eae8a47.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025122109124_80c381c4299dd7e18dbbcacb26e567edc5cfffba76d428e3b325dd194eae8a47" data-rendition-name="original" width="4284" height="5712" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Free-flowing Upper Karnali.</figcaption> </figure>  The project is located on the stupendous Karnali Bend where the water can be pushed through a 2.5km tunnel over a drop of 130m, creating a huge generation capacity. But Nepal’s move towards big dams comes at a time when scientists warn of more extreme weather events like floods and landslides in the already fragile Himalayan landscape. Nepal now needs investment in storage projects as most hydropower plants are of the run-of-river type, which means power generation drops in the dry season. But a piecemeal dam-by-dam approach risks destroying a unique resource for benefits that could be achieved elsewhere with far less ecological cost. Once a free-flowing river is fragmented, its sediment delivery is choked, fish migrations are cut off, floodplains dry out and local cultures that revolve around seasonal flows begin to unravel. These changes are effectively permanent.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109120_4f59b09b6e03889457b9b98d72d6b604d3519895f8825b4b03f486d67ea299af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025122109120_4f59b09b6e03889457b9b98d72d6b604d3519895f8825b4b03f486d67ea299af" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Local children play indigenous musical instrument.</figcaption> </figure>  “The Karnali is the last and most pristine Himalayan River left, most others are already exploited. It should be protected as a wild, scenic, free flowing river as a gift to future generations,” says activist Megh Ale, who wants the river to be developed as an eco-tourism corridor on the pilgrim trail to Mt Kailash and Mansarovar.&nbsp; “We have many big tributaries to the Karnali,” Ale adds. “We can keep the main stream of the river as free flowing, and develop hydro projects on the tributaries. More than 6,000MW can be produced without touching the main river stem.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_223faf7f50c43f3bf008a7745b90131fa91975689109533b71ed7d9dcdb8c53e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025122109128_223faf7f50c43f3bf008a7745b90131fa91975689109533b71ed7d9dcdb8c53e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1875" height="2500" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Rafters say Karnali is one of the best places for white water rafting in the world.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal has abundant alternatives to hydropower: solar energy has been hardly tapped, and integrating them with pump storage systems are cheap, quick to build and are low impact. Smarter siting and design, modern transmission links and regional power trading can deliver reliable energy without sacrificing the country’s last pristine river. Preserving the Karnali would also pay dividends in climate resilience: free-flowing rivers buffer <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-denial-in-the-himalaya">extreme floods and droughts</a>, carry sediment that builds deltas and replenishes nutrients on farmland, and provide insurance against glacial and monsoon variability.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109124_a5726642ee785b624ee3e6d81a051091c91a8d388dba8c33f4a03bab1fddc97f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025122109124_a5726642ee785b624ee3e6d81a051091c91a8d388dba8c33f4a03bab1fddc97f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Tharu women repair a channel fed by the Karnali, which is a life line for their farms.</figcaption> </figure>  The Karnali is also a cultural and economic asset in its own right. As a rare, undammed Himalayan river, it underpins nature-based tourism, scientific research, and a way of life for Indigenous and local communities. Kalashtham Tharu, 32, is an elephant mahout in Bardia, and says the Karnali is an important source of water for animals and farming. Diversion for irrigation near Chisapani has meant that a channel going into Bardia National Park has gone dry, affecting biodiversity and nearby farms. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109120_6d3a45a440263e859d64c427a8543c6ede5a447a411797d25a6a41d713d33e91.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025122109120_6d3a45a440263e859d64c427a8543c6ede5a447a411797d25a6a41d713d33e91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Panning for gold on the banks of the Karnali. She makes Rs200,000 per year. </figcaption> </figure>  Similarly, the Sonahar community in Bardia relies on the river to pan for gold, their sole source of income. Anita, 40, says there is much less water in the Karnali this year. On an average, she makes Rs200,000 from middlemen for the gold she pans during non-monsoon months. &nbsp; WILD RIVERS Around the world, countries are beginning to recognise the value of keeping a few great rivers wild. Protecting the Karnali would place Nepal at the forefront of that movement and strengthen efforts to seek international recognition for the river’s outstanding natural heritage. Any decision should be grounded in a transparent, basin-wide assessment that weighs the full social, ecological and economic costs—not just the megawatts on a project spreadsheet. That means evaluating alternatives, safeguarding critical habitats and migration routes, and recognising the rights and knowledge of the people who live along the river. It also means asking a simple question: If Nepal can meet its energy goals without damming the Karnali’s main stem, why wouldn’t it?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_3e357c863de55b397f09cfd666c762de297a8b07ac024a41a8bb5b9e8d3a76cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025122109128_3e357c863de55b397f09cfd666c762de297a8b07ac024a41a8bb5b9e8d3a76cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>River mining the Karnali in Kalaili district causing uneven landscape with the river flowing away from Bardia National park.</figcaption> </figure>  Advocates have petitioned Nepal’s Supreme Court to protect the Karnali, with a hearing scheduled in Kathmandu on 22 December. International lenders and investors should take note: Financing high-impact dams on the Karnali would run counter to emerging global standards on biodiversity, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dancing-with-the-river">climate resilience</a> and free-flowing river protection. Funding clean energy in Nepal should not require sacrificing the country’s most pristine river. For three decades, I have documented the Karnali from its source in Tibet to its entry into India, capturing the river’s seasons and the lives it sustains. The images I have captured and the voices of people who depend on the river, tell a simple truth: a free-flowing Karnali is irreplaceable. Once the concrete is poured, there is no going back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_760ae5218d5f7e961c198da0a6c8696247e34281752a2857de935f9e8aec2c5c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2025122109128_760ae5218d5f7e961c198da0a6c8696247e34281752a2857de935f9e8aec2c5c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1504" height="1502" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Inner sanctum of Mt Kailas in the vicinity of Manasarovar and Rakshas lakes in Tibet.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal has many options for generating power. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-karnali-portrait?%2F">It has only one Karnali</a>. Keeping this river wild would be a gift to the living Earth and to future generations — a legacy measured not in megawatts, but in life. Says Megh Ale: “We are very rich in natural resources but manage them very poorly. We want instant solutions but do not have a long-term vision. We are not against development but there needs to be a good balance with nature.” &nbsp;

The river of life

Bottom

The Nepal-India Tech Forum 2026 was held in New Delhi. Organised jointly by Nepal’s Embassy in India, Genese Solution, and PHDCCI, industry leaders discussed deepening bilateral cooperation in digital infrastructure, FinTech, cybersecurity, AI, and investment. Nepal’s renewable energy, growing ICT workforce, and macroeconomic stability were discussed as investment draws.

Nepal-India tech forum

Chinese EVs dominated Nepal’s imports in the first seven months of FY 2025/26, with 14,475 units. Only 2,218 came in from India. Total EV imports including two and three-wheelers exceeded 17,000 units. Government revenue from four-wheeler EV imports topped Rs10.5 billion during this period.

Chinese EVs up

Ncell Business partnered with DAMI Experience to offer lifestyle discounts up to 50% to Ncell Signature Plan subscribers across 400+ restaurants, spas, gyms. Offers are redeemed through the Ncell App via a digital VIP card. The professional plan costs Rs17,999 and the Premium is Rs21,999 per year. They come with high-speed data, unlimited calls, SMS, and international roaming across nine countries.

Ncell discounts

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

After Thursday’s election, Nepalis are in a wait-and-watch mode. The Election Commission says counting ballot papers will be expedited this time, and the results for the First-Past-The-Post (FPTP) will start being declared within days. In 2022, it took three weeks for the final results to be tallied.&nbsp;
But winning an election is only half the challenge for the parties, forming a government under parliamentary politics is like a complicated mathematical equation.&nbsp;
In 2022, the Nepali Congress (NC) emerged as the biggest party, winning 89 seats. But the UML with 78 seats and the Maoists with 32 formed a minority government. In fact, Sher Bahadur Deuba did not become PM then despite leading the biggest party in Parliament.
This time, there is an unmistakeable Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) wave led by its prime ministerial candidate, Balendra Shah. Besides his own popularity, Shah represents change which most Nepalis are clamouring for after decades of corrupt and feckless coalitions that did not deliver.&nbsp;
The past months of campaigning has seen massive youth engagement on social media through memes, AI clips, and viral images. Digital content that appeals to emotion rather than policy debate between candidates shape electoral outcomes in Nepal and elsewhere. &nbsp;
Shah represents GenZ aspirations, and was their candidate for prime minister. It was only when he declined that Sushila Karki was nominated. None of the political parties in the recent past -- new, old, or revolutionary — have won enough seats to go it alone.&nbsp;
The most recent majority government was formed by the short-lived Communist Party of Nepal after the UML-Maoist merger in 2022. But that rare two-thirds majority collapsed after a power struggle between K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal. The only party to have won a majority was the NC in the 1991 and 1999 elections. But it is near impossible for it to repeat this success now, even with Gagan Thapa's rebranding of the party.&nbsp;
We have compiled these possible scenarios for election outcome in order of likelihood:
RSP gets a majority
RSP hits the magic 138 to form a government entirely on its own. Balendra Shah wins Jhapa-5, and becomes the new prime minister at 35, the youngest ever to hold the office in Nepal. But danger lurks: there could be a personality clash between Shah and Lamichhane who are both equally ambitious. History could repeat itself.&nbsp;
RSP wins but does not get a majority
RSP is likely to sweep the most votes, but what if it does not secure enough seats for a majority? It would need a coalition partner and Nepali Communist Party (NCP) under Pushpa Kamal Dahal could fit the bill, but only if it has the numbers. The RSP is not likely to team up with the UML or NC.
The NCP is relatively untainted by the 8 September events, and also has former UML defectors like Madhav Kumar Nepal and Bhim Rawal who could bag their rural vote banks. After all, there are no permanent foes in politics. If the royalist RPP and Tarai-based Janata Samajwadi have enough seats, those could be options for the RSP. &nbsp;
NC is second
The NC under the new leadership of Gagan Thapa could become the second biggest force and form a government with RSP in a power-sharing deal with Shah. This would be the most stable scenario since the RSP and NC have competent and idealistic young technocrats. Thapa himself embodies a strong combination of both old and new politics to navigate the system for more efficient government. But then Thapa and the RSP's Rabi Lamichhane do not get along.
NC and NCP form a majority
If the NC becomes the largest party but not by a big margin, it could join up with the NCP and Ujyalo. Teaming up with the UML would likely face backlash with the party and outside. If Gagan Thapa becomes prime minister he will face internal pressure from both Deuba loyalists. Same old story.
Minority coalition of NC, UML and NCP
RSP becomes the first party but does not get a majority, paving the way for the three legacy parties to cobble together a minority government. While this is possible in Nepal’s parliamentary system, such a scenario is likely to lead to more instability and dissatisfaction among young Nepalis demanding change, and even trigger street unrest. &nbsp;

The magic 138

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

With 49 days to go for polls, we asked eight of the 800,000 first time voters about their voting preferences.&nbsp; The GenZ movement has impacted on new and old political parties and their alliances. Some have pledged to represent youth aspirations, while older parties have mobilised younger members. However, the UML, NC and NCP still do not practice internal democracy, and have not responded to the popular demand for change.&nbsp; An example of this was the split in the NC (page 4). The very fact that it has put up Gagan Thapa as prime ministerial candidate is a response to the RSP fielding the GenZ favourite Balen Shah.&nbsp; Even so, Kulman Ghising quitting the RSP has shown that the new parties are not really ‘new’. Not many GenZs are contesting in the elections barring the likes of Sudan Gurung. Some are trying to influence parties from behind the scenes. Geopoliical pressure seems to have forced the RSP to withdraw Tashi Lhazom from its PR list.&nbsp; Nevertheless, an election that looked near impossible is now on track. But what do the young new voters want, and will they make a difference? Watch an exclusive video on our YouTube channel.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260115110136_18ae7337821e5cca286b77fa15cc443a06037a100995116fea24277f9787cf06.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260115110136_18ae7337821e5cca286b77fa15cc443a06037a100995116fea24277f9787cf06" data-rendition-name="original" width="1281" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="first time voters"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260115110136_f1a9641760f0ddf694dc8d9dceab975170bda684b5b0771117cbff15672b3c3a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260115110136_f1a9641760f0ddf694dc8d9dceab975170bda684b5b0771117cbff15672b3c3a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="first time voters"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Which way GenZ voters?

Featured videos

The Himalaya is melting twice as fast as the global average, and this is accelerated by air pollution. Called black carbon, suspended particles emitted by industries, vehicle exhaust, or forest fires accelerate glacial retreat in High Asia. Dark matter makes the ice melt faster (as seen in Kapuche Lake in Kaski, pictured above).
The snowline is already retreating up the mountains due to winter drought and global warming, and this process is quickened by black carbon and reduced snowfall.
The Cryosphere Report 2025 by the International Cryosphere Climate Initiative (ICCI) underscores these alarming trends. Between 2000 and 2023, mountain glaciers lost an average of 273 gigatons of ice per year. Even the higher central and eastern regions of High Mountain Asia are projected to lose up to 60% of existing ice under a 1.5°C warming scenario and only 15% may remain if it touches 3°C.
The Hindu Kush and Karakoram were relatively stable in recent decades, but may lose 40% of their ice under a 2°C future but only 15% under a 1.5°C pathway.
These losses are not merely physical or environmental. They translate into long-term water, food, economic, and political insecurity for millions. According to the report, such cryosphere-driven impacts should be considered permanent on human time scales.
“Frozen systems are highly sensitive to seasonal changes, and their degradation can dramatically increase hazards such as rockfalls and landslides, threatening communities, infrastructure,” Hugues Lantuit, Researcher at the Alfred Wegener Institute, told Nepali Times in Belém. “This is why we need collaboration between researchers, local governments, and communities that translate scientific knowledge into practical adaptation strategies.”
At COP30 in Belém, global climate negotiations faced widespread criticism for sidelining key science. Major emitter countries were held unaccountable, and progress on phasing out fossil fuels was delayed. Only 88 countries have voluntarily supported a roadmap to phase out fossil fuels. While the biggest emitters continue to delay commitments, countries in the Global South bear the brunt of climate impact.
Since science was not sufficiently prioritised, important topics like the cryosphere received limited attention. Most cryosphere related events at COP30 were organised at a pavilion jointly hosted by ICCI and Iceland, but attendance was low, reflecting how glacier and permafrost loss remain niche topics within broader climate negotiations.
Nepal participated in the High-Level Meeting on Global Impacts of Cryosphere Loss and Paths of Return from Overshoot, organised by Iceland/Ambition on Melting Ice (AMI) high-level group and Tajikistan. Pakistan’s Secretary of Climate Change Aisha Humera, noted that glaciers in the Hindu Kush and Karakoram region are melting rapidly, impacting livelihoods and requiring massive adaptation efforts.
AKM Sohel of the Bangladesh Ministry of Finance drew attention to his country being at risk from record-breaking cyclones, storms, and long-term coastal flooding.
“Achieving the 1.5°C target is essential, and climate finance is necessary to implement adaptation measures nationwide,” Sohel said.
The latest cryosphere assessments further underline the urgency of immediate and deep reductions in greenhouse gas emissions globally. Reports recommend aiming for global temperature targets closer to 1°C to preserve as much of the cryosphere as possible. This requires more ambitious climate action, combined monitoring of cryosphere changes, adapting to impact, and mitigating future damage.
The cryosphere is at a tipping point, and its loss has immediate consequences for water security, livelihoods, infrastructure, and climate justice. Across High Asia, melting glaciers and thawing permafrost threaten communities and those living downstream. 
 
With support from Earth Journalism Network.

How much ice must melt before we act?

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

Frontpage topic

Nepal has delivered a clear, decisive mandate to the RSP in this election, breaking many previous records.&nbsp;
Not even Pushpa Kamal Dahal got such a victory during the first Constituent Assembly election in 2008 in which he had emerged as a larger-than-life figure after the conflict. What Balendra Shah has achieved is rare in Nepal’s 35-year-old multiparty democratic system.
The campaign slogan ‘Abki Baar Balen Sarkar’ was heard right across the Tarai, even though the turnout of 58%, was the lowest in Nepal’s multiparty history. Many Nepalis in the Gulf could not return to vote, others could not travel back to their districts from the cities.&nbsp;
Traditional voters of the old parties may also not have turned out to vote. This election was all inclusive, all old or new parties and independent confidantes participated and voting was &nbsp;held on time as mandated to interim prime minister Shushila Karki.
Nepal is now going to have a ‘Balen sarkar’ of the RSP, a party barely three years old moving to a two-thirds majority. In the proportional representation count, it is securing more than 50% of total party votes.&nbsp;
All this is rare in Nepali political history, when a single party gained a majority for the first time since 1999, especially given the mixed electoral system, which generally reduces the possibility of a single party obtaining a majority. The popularity of the rapper-turned-politician and former mayor of Kathmandu has made this remarkable outcome possible. &nbsp;
<div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://election-geo-dashboard.pages.dev/" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"> </iframe></div>
The result will also weaken the argument that the mixed electoral system is not suitable for Nepal, an argument that had recently been gaining momentum.
Balendra defeated former Prime Minister K P Oli in his stronghold of Jhapa-5, considered the Leningrad of the Nepali left. All former prime ministers in the fray, except Dahal, have lost their seats. Shah’s popularity was often dismissed as merely a social media hype, but his decision not to become the interim leader after the GenZ movement now appears to have been a wise one.&nbsp;
Nepal was in dire need of a stable government, and is now going to have one. Past mergers and coalitions have fallen apart due to power clashes. There have been 30 governments in the past 35 years of multi-party political history. No government in that time ever completed its five-year term.&nbsp;
Parties were unresponsive to the people’s desire for accountable and efficient government. These were the objective conditions that drove the GenZ movement, and also emerged as the main issues in this election. Voters rejected the old political parties, reducing them to one of the lowest levels in history.&nbsp;
The communist parties have suffered significantly in terms of seats and vote share, while the RSP has performed very well across all parts of Nepal, including Madhes, where its prospects were previously considered weak because of its past anti-federalism stance. The RSP managed to defeat even Madhes-centric parties.&nbsp;
CHALLENGES
Great power brings great responsibility, and the RSP government will face several challenges from day one. It will have to ensure transparency, maintain stability and have an economic blueprint for job creation and development.&nbsp;
There is also the possibility of internal rivalry between Shah and Rabi Lamichhane, the founding chair of the party. Lamichhane is considered an ambitious figure, and so is Shah — although he keeps his cards close to his chest and is introverted. Their egos could clash, creating divisions within the party when it gets into government.
The RSP has promised constitutional reforms that emerged during the GenZ movement. It has pledged to introduce a discussion paper on proposed constitutional amendments covering issues such as a directly elected executive, a fully proportional Parliament, and reforms in the country’s federal system.&nbsp;
These changes would require a two-thirds majority in the National Assembly as well, where the RSP currently has no presence. Support of the other parties would be essential. As leader, Shah will have to move away from his earlier aggressive and confrontational attitude, and instead adopt an approach based on cooperation and consultation in order to advance his agenda.
The election results suggest that there was deep dissatisfaction, distrust, and anger among Nepalis toward the old political establishment. The new government will have to restructure the Nepali state, focusing on tackling the issues such as corruption, favouritism and political appointments in the bureaucracy and judiciary, so that public trust in the system can be restored.&nbsp;
The people have played their part, now it is the turn of the RSP to deliver. Here, the economic sector needs and overhaul to reduce dependence on remittances. Unemployment among youth is at 20%, and following the arson and vandalism in September foreign investment declined by 40%.&nbsp;
The new government's main task will be reversing out-migration by creating jobs at home, which requires a better investment climate and economic reform. Many hydropower projects remain incomplete, but Nepal can monetise its geography and water resources to boost the economy. Nepal’s industrial and manufacturing sector needs reorganisation and investment.
Another task will be to ensure justice for the victims of the GenZ movement by making public the report of the Gauri Bahadur Karki Commission and delivering justice to those affected. The Shah-led government will need to deliver on the promises made.
It will also have to carefully manage balanced relations between India, China, and the United States. As mayor of Kathmandu, Balendra Shah’s views on India were critical and hardline, when he displayed a map of ‘Greater Nepal’ in his office in 2023.
However, given India’s importance in Nepal’s development journey, he must move beyond past emotional and nationalist rhetoric and work toward building constructive relations with New Delhi.&nbsp;
India will have to be reassured that its interests in the neighbourhood will not be ignored and that Nepal will remain sensitive to India’s security concerns, while also assuring China that Nepal will not become part of any U S strategy directed against Chinese interests.
Mohan Kumar Mishra is a PhD scholar in the Department of Political Science at Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi.&nbsp;

Nepalis deliver a mature and historic mandate

Nepal’s 5 March election may represent one of the most significant political shifts since the country adopted its republican constitution in 2015. What began as a youth-led protest last year has grown into a strong electoral mandate.&nbsp;
The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), led by Kathmandu’s former mayor Balendra ‘Balen’ Shah, appears set for a major victory, reshaping the political landscape and challenging the long-standing dominance of traditional parties.
The scale of this change is truly remarkable. Early vote counts show the RSP winning or leading in most regions, outpacing well-established political figures and ending the dominance of parties like the Nepali Congress and the Communist factions.
Based on current trends, the RSP appears on track to secure an outright majority within Nepal’s 275-seat lower house of Parliament. It might also achieve a two-thirds majority once the results of the proportional representation segment of Nepal’s mixed electoral system are finalised. This development contradicts a common assumption among most analysts – including this one – that Nepal’s complex electoral system would make unstable coalition governments likely.
A COMPLICATED PHASE
For many Nepalis, especially the youth, this election means more than just a regular democratic process. It signifies a rejection of the old political order. Still, the RSP’s electoral success does not mean all of Nepal’s political problems are solved. In fact, it marks the beginning of a more complicated phase.
The rise of the RSP highlights widespread dissatisfaction with Nepal’s political leadership. Years of instability, corruption, economic stagnation, and high unemployment have eroded public trust in traditional parties.
The turning point came with youth protests in September 2025, driven by frustration with government policies and social discontent. These protests led to Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli’s resignation and early elections.
In this atmosphere, the RSP positioned itself as a change-maker. Its anti-corruption rhetoric, active social media presence, and connection with young voters resonated with the public mood.
What is happening now is a major political upheaval. Established parties, used to sharing power, now face a very different political landscape. However, turning electoral support into effective governance will be a major challenge, far more difficult than winning votes.
The first big hurdle for any RSP-led government will be managing governance itself. While the party’s rise is fueled by hopes of reform, turning those hopes into real policies will require strong administration, discipline, and teamwork, traits that new political parties often struggle to develop.
Nepal’s bureaucratic system is complex and often resistant to change. Overhauling government institutions, improving public services, and fighting corruption will need continuous reforms, not just words.
Public expectations are sky-high. Ironically, this might be the biggest challenge for the RSP. If reforms stall or internal conflicts arise, public disillusionment could grow quickly.
Nepal’s economy faces serious issues. Many citizens work abroad, sending remittances that support the economy but also highlight the lack of local opportunities. Youth unemployment, underemployment, and slow economic growth are ongoing problems.
An RSP-led government must develop a credible economic plan focused on job creation, attracting investment, and infrastructure. Without visible progress, the initial enthusiasm for change could fade fast.
Meanwhile, Nepal’s young population is a vital resource. If the new government harnesses this talent by encouraging entrepreneurship, using technology, and investing in education, it can turn societal frustration into economic development.
Nepal’s strategic position between India and China adds extra complexity. The country has traditionally kept a delicate balance in its relations with both neighbors, along with other international partners. The new government might face pressure to shift this balance, with both India and China closely watching foreign policy moves. The challenge is to protect Nepal’s sovereignty while gaining the economic aid needed for growth.
UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY
Despite these challenges, the 5 March election offers a unique opportunity. Nepal’s democracy, often complicated, has once again shown its resilience and ability to renew itself. Voters have peacefully replaced the old political elite with a new generation of leaders, an achievement worth celebrating.
If the RSP can move beyond protest politics and develop a comprehensive governance plan, Nepal could enter a new era of growth and renewal. A government dedicated to integrity, opportunity, and reform could rebuild public trust in democracy.
However, history warns us that revolutions often create expectations that exceed institutional capacity. For Nepal, the real work begins now.
Sanjay Upadhya is the author and analyst based in the United States. Originally posted <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/nepals-mandate-change-test-governance-sanjay-upadhya-soafc">here</a>.

Nepal’s mandate for change

Sanae Takaichi’s electoral victory in February marks a historic turning point in Japanese politics. As Japan’s first female prime minister and the leader of a commanding parliamentary majority, she represents change in both symbolic and strategic terms. 
Conventional wisdom long held that younger Japanese voters leaned progressive, were sceptical of assertive security policies, and disengaged from ideological nationalism. Yet a segment of digitally active youth rallied behind a politician associated with constitutional revision, expanded defence capabilities, and a more unapologetic articulation of national identity. 
This shift cannot be reduced to a simple conservative swing. Rather, Takaichi’s rise reflects a deeper transformation in how democratic politics is constructed in the digital age: the growing power of imagery, digital mobilisation, and algorithm-driven branding in shaping political choice—particularly among younger voters.
Takaichi’s approval ratings among voters aged 18–29 approached 90% in some surveys, far surpassing those of her predecessors. Youth turnout also rose, suggesting that Japanese youth are not politically apathetic. 
On the contrary, they are paying attention—but the nature of that engagement has changed. Viral images, short video clips, hashtags, and aesthetic cues travelled faster and farther than policy briefings. For many younger voters, engagement began—and sometimes ended—with the visual and emotional appeal of the candidate. 
This pattern is not uniquely Japanese. However, the scale of its impact in this election suggests that political communication has entered a new phase in which digital imagery can shape electoral outcomes as much as—or more than—substantive debate.
A New Phase of Digital Politics in Japan
In the months leading up to the election, Takaichi’s image proliferated across social media platforms. Supporters circulated clips highlighting her confident demeanour and historic candidacy. 
A cultural trend sometimes described as ‘sanakatsu’ or ‘sanae-mania’ framed political support as a form of fandom participation. Hashtags multiplied. ‘Mic-drop’ moments went viral. Even personal accessories—her handbags and ballpoint pens—became symbolic conversation pieces.
Political enthusiasm has always contained emotional and symbolic elements. What is new is the speed and scale at which digital platforms amplify them. Algorithms reward content that provokes reaction—admiration, anger, excitement. A charismatic clip often outperforms a detailed explanation of fiscal reform. 
For younger voters raised in scroll-based media environments, political information increasingly arrives as curated snippets. Policy complexity competes with—and often loses to—aesthetic immediacy.
Post-election surveys and interviews suggested that many first-time voters struggled to articulate specific policy distinctions between parties. Instead, they cited impressions—strength, change, decisiveness, novelty—suggesting that digital engagement does not automatically translate into policy literacy. 
Political identity can form through repeated exposure to imagery and narrative rather than sustained examination of legislative proposals. When campaigns are optimised for shareability, they are incentivised to simplify. Nuance compresses poorly into short-form video.
The Politics of Strength in an Age of Uncertainty
Japan’s younger generation has grown up amid prolonged economic stagnation, regional insecurity, and global volatility. China’s rise, tensions over Taiwan, North Korean missile launches, and persistent wage stagnation form the backdrop of their political participation. For many, the future feels uncertain and structurally constrained.
In such an environment, Takaichi’s assertive rhetoric carried emotional resonance. Her emphasis on strengthening national defence, revisiting aspects of the postwar settlement, and making Japan “strong and rich” projected clarity rather than ambiguity. Where institutional politics can appear technocratic or slow, decisive messaging offered the voters psychological reassurance.
At the core of her appeal is a narrative of restoring a ‘strong’ Japan. Calls for constitutional revision and expanded defence capabilities are framed as steps toward recovering national self-confidence. For younger Japanese fatigued by protracted historical disputes and what some perceive as externally imposed guilt, language emphasising pride and sovereignty resonates more readily than complex historical debates. 
This may not signal a rejection of peace. Rather, it may reflect a generational reframing of peace itself—understood not solely as pacifism, but as deterrence, defence capability, and strategic autonomy. Messages stressing ‘sovereignty’, ‘strength’, and ‘normal country’ can circulate more effectively in shareable digital formats than nuanced and complex historical analysis.
A Global Pattern: Virtual Branding, a Democratic Crossroads
Japan’s experience mirrors a broader transformation in democratic politics: the rise of virtual branding as the central organising principle of electoral strategy. In earlier eras, campaigns revolved around party platforms and televised debates. 
Today, strategy increasingly begins with platform optimisation. Campaigns are designed not only to persuade, but to perform within algorithmic systems. The guiding question is no longer only “What policies do we stand for?” but “What content travels?”
The election of Donald Trump in the United States illustrated how virtual media strategy can reshape political competition. Memorable slogans and emotionally charged posts dominated attention cycles, often eclipsing policy detail. Scholars have described this as “attention economics in action”: the candidate who captures digital attention shapes political reality before formal debate even begins. 
More recently, figures such as Zohran Mamdani have demonstrated how youth-centered digital branding can mobilise support with remarkable speed. Campaigns became participatory; supporters did not merely consume messaging but actively distributed political identity.
Takaichi’s recent victory reflects the evolving mechanics of digital democracy. Her leadership will ultimately be judged not by imagery but by governance — by whether her policies deliver economic stability, regional security, and social cohesion. The broader question, however, transcends any single administration. It means political decisions have migrated into digital environments optimised for speed and visual communication. 
In an age where images travel faster than ideas, democratic choice risks being guided more by what is seen than by what is discussed. In such an environment, political campaigns will be forced to adapt, and produce content that performs well within these algorithmic constraints. 
Over time, this may reshape voter expectations and politics will begin to resemble influencer culture. Campaigns that fail to master digital branding risk will appear outdated. Those that succeed can mobilise youth at scale.
Democracy has always balanced emotion and reason. The challenge today is ensuring that emotion does not eclipse reason entirely. The future of informed citizenship may depend on restoring that balance. 
This does not suggest that previous eras were immune to personality politics. What has changed is the proportion. The digital environment magnifies symbolic cues and compresses policy discussion. If democracies wish to maintain robust deliberation, they must consciously rebalance image and substance. 
This requires civic education focused on media literacy, <a href="https://toda.org/policy-briefs-and-resources/policy-briefs/deliberative-technology-designing-ai-and-computational-democracy-for-peacebuilding.html">virtual platform incentives that elevate substantive debate</a> and political leadership willing to engage in depth, not just virality. And the responsibility is collective—voters, educators, media institutions, and candidates alike. The question facing democracies is whether this transformation can coexist with substantive deliberation or whether branding will increasingly overtake it.
Ria Shibata is a Senior Research Fellow at the New Zealand Centre for Global Studies, and the Toda Peace Institute in Japan. She also serves as a Visiting Scholar at the University of Auckland. 
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2026/imagery-algorithms-and-the-ballot-what-takaichis-victory-says-about-youth-politics-in-the-digital-age.html">the original</a> with permission.

Imagery, Algorithms, and the Ballot

To mark International Women’s Day on 8 March right after the election, we had planned a Diaspora Diaries series focusing on female migrants. What are their aspirations? What challenges or opportunities are unique to them as female migrants? And, what are their expectations from the new government? The stories would also draw attention to one group we could not manage to speak with at the airport: domestic workers.&nbsp; Why? Because the government has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration" target="_blank">banned</a> domestic work in the Gulf. You will not find them at the airport, at least not with a labour permit for domestic work. They are mostly traveling through the India, migrating but without required documents, adequate pre-departure skills and orientation training. They remain invisible in government records, and are left to fend for themselves. This has been one of the most persistent failures of multiple governments despite <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-unchanging-migration-saga" target="_blank">evidence</a> that such bans amplify the very abuses that they are designed to address. But while working on the profiles of female migrants, war broke out in West Asia. Millions of workers are at risk, including the domestic workers. Crises expose cracks in our system and policies. During Covid-19, for example, repatriation efforts revealed gaps in data and coordination, particularly concerning domestic workers. Precisely when the government needed to know how many Nepalis were overseas, where they were located, and how to assist them, they were absent in records, lacked documentation and were ineligible for welfare services that required valid labour permits. Labour permits are important because they are tied to the government’s data management system, and are critical for record-keeping. They are issued only after workers complete pre-departure training tailored to their sector and contribute to the welfare fund which provides various services during crises. But we have failed to learn lessons from past failures. WAR FEARS Nepalis in the Gulf have told us they are safe so far, although there is an atmosphere of fear and anxiety. The explosions are frightening, especially for children. Attacks are not confined to base camps, but airports, oil refineries and embassies have also not been spared, fuelling further fear. If regional tensions escalate and evacuation becomes necessary, it would be an enormous challenge given the size of the diaspora in the Gulf. Female domestic workers would be especially vulnerable, partly given the nature of their work but also because our emigration system contributed to it. The task of collecting information of all migrants whether they are documented or not through an online registration system should already begin, says Krishna Panthi of the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRNA) in Qatar. One consistent theme in conversations with migrants is the need to have more effective Nepal embassies abroad. Crises like this magnify the weaknesses of our embassies or labour diplomacy. Migrant workers frequently cite Philippine embassies as good examples of taking care of its overseas workers. They are also significantly better resourced and staffed than Nepal’s embassies. How diplomats are appointed needs to be reformed, embassies must have sufficient resources for the size of the population they serve, they must build relationships with the destination country and back home, and they should be held accountable.&nbsp; This crisis is a reminder for the incoming government to allocate adequate resources from the budget to the foreign employment sector. This means increasing staffing and strengthening our diplomatic missions while holding them accountable for their primary task — address the needs of overseas Nepalis.&nbsp; But the West Asia war is happening now. We make the best of what we have in an all hands on deck way. Leveraging diaspora groups will be critical in supporting migrants to cast the net widely. A recent letter from the NRNA-International Coordination Council urged the government to prepare and coordinate effectively, immediately mobilising volunteers. Another consistent theme among migrants is that the new government create jobs with liveable wages in Nepal itself so they do not have to leave. Even those who earned adequate wages in Nepal said they were just one crisis away from indebtedness because of a health shock in the family or a household emergency. Political party manifestos all mention job creation, but how this will be realised in practice is what actually matters.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026030307030_e294cfe36d054a4cca8cbf50010292cc1e174bac74147f1eaa29b30f55591632.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026030307030_e294cfe36d054a4cca8cbf50010292cc1e174bac74147f1eaa29b30f55591632" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Migration, election, and war NT"> </figure>  Many Nepalis may now be compelled to return or not leave in the first place because of wars, pandemics or other economic or geopolitical shocks. Whether returns are planned or unplanned, meaningful jobs back home, an environment to run successful businesses and good remigration options allowing migrants to build on previous experiences need to be prioritised. This crisis has again proven that lack of diversification in destination countries makes Nepalis more vulnerable. Concerns about the lack of diversification also emerged when Malaysia, another major destination country, closed its doors to foreign workers for almost two years. It is important to invest in labour mobility partnerships such as those with Korea, Japan and the UAE. A pilot agreement with the UAE for domestic workers is yet to be implemented.&nbsp; Overseas demand will continue, as destruction on this scale will inevitably be followed by reconstruction. Demographic change and the need for migrants in essential job categories are critical to keeping societies functioning.&nbsp; A Jordan-Nepal agreement for garment workers with support from International Labor Organization (ILO), for example, has opened up opportunities for thousands of women for garment jobs linked to multinational brands who are recruited ethically without having to pay fees.&nbsp; Rita Choudhury from Rautahat who was at SCC Manpower that manages deployment of garment workers to Jordan told us, “We are benefiting from free training in tailoring before we migrate for free to Jordan. I will earn money working for a few years and can continue the same work once I am back and create jobs in my village for those who are unemployed.” Of all the migrant workers who left last year, 12.9% were female with over half of them migrating just to three countries: UAE, Qatar and Kuwait.&nbsp; From tracking what candidates are up to in this week’s election, Nepalis have now switched focus on monitoring the situation in the Gulf. With every refresh, there is a new missile intercepted or a debris that has hit some building. Workers in office jobs have moved to remote work, outdoor work is restricted, and other jobs, such as those in the service sector, have reduced personnel. Many workers are confined to their rooms including those evacuated from American military bases.&nbsp; A Nepali from Gorkha, Diwas Shrestha, who worked as a security guard was among those killed in the UAE on 1 March. Social media posts show some narrowly escaping falling debris of intercepted missiles while many are stranded at airports. Even though the West Asia war has diverted our attention, now more than ever we need bold, visionary leadership that we can actually count on. To collectively heal from our internal crisis borne out of frustration and distrust with the system that came at a huge cost including young lives lost on 8 September — some of whom were in Kathmandu waiting to fly out for overseas jobs. The government has also constantly overlooked Nepalis abroad who cannot vote. This includes 2 million of them in West Asia, in the middle of a crisis that threatens their safety and livelihoods. As this election shows, the diaspora maybe disenfranchised but it is not disengaged. Nepalis overseas are campaigning through calls, letters, posters on suitcases and social media. Many are leaving Nepal and voting with their feet because the safe job overseas is more important than any ballot. Others are returning because the ballot is more important than the job. Many Nepalis who were flying home this week to cast their vote are stranded in Dubai, Doha and Kuwait, and may not make it on time. Migrants who were on their way out are stuck at home, and many have returned to their villages to vote as they wait for flights to resume. What struck us most in our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-nepali-vote-bank" target="_blank">interviews</a> on elections and migration these past couple of months was the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/homecoming-at-election-time" target="_blank">urgency</a> with which many migrants approached this election. Many traveled home convinced that their individual vote mattered because the stakes are just so high. Will the new government reciprocate to this disenfranchised population and deliver with the same sense of urgency? 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.

Women, migration, election, and war

For years, the Middle East has been described through the language of fracture. Conflict zones. Proxy wars. Collapsing states. Yet here in the Gulf, and especially in the United Arab Emirates, a different narrative took hold. Stability. Efficiency. Ambition. A belief that even amid regional disorder, it was possible to chart a different trajectory, to pave the way toward a more stable and generous future.
Abu Dhabi became synonymous with planning rather than improvisation. With infrastructure rather than rubble. With innovation rather than despair. People from across the world came here to work, to build, to test themselves and succeed together. It cultivated belonging, investing in youth, knowledge, and possibility. It fostered a confidence that felt earned rather than proclaimed.
It was also a place where policymaking could be observed almost as a craft. Flexible yet disciplined. Experimental yet strategic. Institutions were built, adjusted, refined. Governance did not feel theatrical. It felt intentional. To watch that process was a reminder that the state can still function with competence and imagination.
In many ways, this place has resembled a modern ark. Diverse. Layered. Hopeful. A convergence of global citizens from countries rich and poor building lives together. The shock of what is unfolding here is not regional and certainly not local. These communities are now experiencing firsthand what hardened geopolitics feels like. And that experience will travel. It will reverberate far beyond this coastline.
And then the bombs fall.
It is one thing to analyze geopolitics from a distance, to speak of deterrence, escalation la­­dders, strategic signaling, calibrated retaliation. It is another to sit at home, phone in hand, watching alerts multiply, calculating distances on a map, wondering whether to stock up on groceries, whether schools will open, whether flights will leave.
When geopolitical analysis becomes lived reality, its vocabulary collapses.
Families here are not debating doctrine. They are calming children. Scanning supermarket shelves. Texting relatives abroad. Realizing that departure, in a moment of regional shutdown, is not simple. Authorities move quickly to reassure residents that systems are functioning, defenses activated, contingencies in place.
The instability is not internally generated. It is the spillover of wider confrontation. Which is precisely why the shock cuts deeper. When safety has been the baseline, its sudden fragility is both maddening and humbling.
For the strongest players in the Gulf, and especially the United Arab Emirates, the aspiration was clear. To anchor stability in a region marked by volatility. To project competence rather than chaos. To invest in education, culture, renewable energy, artificial intelligence. To become crossroads of capital, ideas, and mobility. The promise was not merely economic. It was existential. That one could live expansively, in confident openness, securely.
How quickly the horizon narrows.
There is a growing normalization of strategies in which weapons and attacks are treated as routine instruments of statecraft. Infrastructure becomes leverage. Shipping lanes become bargaining chips. Energy corridors become pressure points. The line between military signaling and diplomatic coercion blurs. Once that threshold is crossed, it rarely contracts. It expands.
Centers of power speak of necessity, red lines, deterrence. But the lived reality of those within range of missiles is fear, uncertainty, and vulnerability. The map looks orderly from afar. Up close, it is populated by parents, workers, students, retirees negotiating the fragile routines of ordinary life.
Those accustomed to secure and well-organized societies internalize safety as baseline, mobility as entitlement, connectivity as permanent. We forget how contingent these conditions are.
For many societies, instability is not interruption. It is structure. Perhaps this moment offers us a more honest proximity to that reality.
None of this flattens responsibility. The United States, Israel, Iran, and regional powers operate within distinct security logics. Yet one sobering reality remains. When force becomes a primary currency of political communication, the threshold for its use lowers. The exceptional becomes routine. The outcome grows precarious.
From Abu Dhabi this week, geopolitics is no longer abstraction. It is audible. It is logistical. It is personal.
Abu Dhabi will do its utmost to keep everyone hopeful and feeling safe. Systems will function. Reassurances will come. Stability here is cultivated, not accidental. A return to calm is in everyone’s interest.
But in this suspended moment, as alerts replace routine, we are given something rare. Time to reflect. To reconsider. To reckon, individually and communally, with the fragility of what we so casually call normal life.
And that should compel policymakers and citizens alike to ask what kind of normal we are willing to accept, and whether we are surrendering the very conditions that make ordinary life possible.
Sophia Kalantzakos is Global Distinguished Professor of Environmental Studies and Public Policy in the Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Scholars Program (SMSP), New York University Abu Dhabi.&nbsp;
Reprinted with permission from <a href="https://www.ekathimerini.com/opinion/1296678/when-geopolitics-becomes-lived-reality/">ekathimerini.com</a>

When geopolitics becomes lived reality

What is common across all major political parties contesting the election on Friday is that they are all led by influential men.&nbsp;
Rabi Lamichhane + Balendra Shah duo head the RSP, Gagan Thapa leads the Nepali Congress (NC), the UML’ s K P Oli is still leader, Kulman Ghising is the founder and leader of the Ujyalo Nepal Party, and there is Harka Sampang of the Shram Sanskriti Party.&nbsp;
These men do not just lead the parties, they are the parties. Their authority within the party is largely uncontested and is sustained through loyalty to the deeply familiar Nepali figure of the Dai or Ba, the elder brother or father who is trusted, defended, and followed.
For the most part, they do not exert influence due to leadership skills but through a reinforcement of the idea that their leadership is the solution to the political crisis facing Nepal. Around these men is a loyal orbit of supporters, extending from central committee members to party cadres, mostly men.
Supporters amplify the idea of their chosen leadership and defend them at all cost in the public sphere, and especially on social media where polarising and controversial speech is rewarded by the design feature of the platforms.
Only 395 out of the 3,484 first-past-the-post (FPTP) candidates are women, in the upcoming elections. Of the biggest parties, the NC has only 6.67% women, UML 7.92%, NCP 6,90 %, RSP 9.73%, Shram Sanskriti Party 6.42%, UNP 5.79% and Janata Samajwadi party 8.41%.&nbsp;
The highest among the parties is not even 10%. The numbers represent the interconnected manospheres that pervade all layers of Nepali politics — it is not merely exclusion, but a systematic structuring of gender in politics.
Manosphere as an umbrella term for online communities that have increasingly promoted narrow and aggressive definitions of what it means to be a man, and the false narrative that feminism and gender equality have come at the cost of men’s rights. These communities promote the idea that emotional control, material wealth, physical appearance and dominance, especially over women, are markers of male worth.
It is an internet phenomenon, but it also relates to how men have hoarded power and taken up space in Nepali politics that constitutionally belongs to women, without exception of a single major party. While certainly the leaders of the parties are not spearheading manospheres, their support systems and structural organisation show characteristics akin to one.
A distinct feature of a manosphere is the attitude of rejection it carries towards liberalism, democratic pillars of inclusion and participation, political correctness, and they distort biology and evolution in argument of restrictive gender roles. They assign men as de facto leaders and women as followers, if not adversaries. Manospheres operate with an underlying understanding that feminism or women empowerment is detrimental to men.
This feature of the manosphere is starkly visible in how women in politics have experienced this election, in their campaigning on social media. From Ranju Darshana to Nisha Adhikari to Reema Biswokarma, their social media posts have comments from people trying to tell them of their place in society.
A pregnant politician and two artists turned politicians, are routinely told that their pursuit of leadership is not what the society needs. Even Prime Minister Sushila Karki was vilified publicly by Durga Prasai publicly, and was met with laughter from the circle of people around him.
Digital platforms have become an open arena for misogynistic attacks against women, often delegitimising their political participation rather than hosting democratic dialogue. Women who ascribe to the idea of the leadership archetype endorsed by the manosphere, are lauded for their participation. Responses to the speech of the RSP’s Sobita Gautam in Janakpur is an example.
Another symptom of the manosphere in Nepali politics is that it endorses violence, be it rhetorically, or equating it with leadership. By drooling over the violence spewed by them, instead of looking at evidence of capacity for governance, thoughts on inclusion, visions for development and much more, the definition of being a leader is narrowed.&nbsp;
When our politics are up for debate in social media platforms, unsurprisingly, vile and inflammatory language becomes a recipe for success, hence amplifying ‘leaders’ who revert to such tactics.
A study by researchers at Dublin City University found that newly created teen-boy accounts on TikTok and YouTube Shorts were algorithmically exposed to sexist and misogynistic content within about the first 23 minutes of use, even when they were not deliberately looking for it. So naturally, misogyny sells.&nbsp;
Besides, groups on Facebook have been mobilised during campaigning for elections. The most prominent men only group in Nepal MRR was disabled by Meta prior to the October 2022 election for violating their terms and conditions.
While it is not new that women in Nepali politics have endured misogyny, it has been magnified by how political discourses online occur in the manospheres. There is no conversation on how Gagan Thapa will not become the next Sher Bahadur Deuba, there is no debate on how the newly formed government will meet the constitutional requirement of having at least 33% women in the House — it is only about which man is more suitable to be the next prime minister of Nepal in a system that does not directly appoint them.
Even if we were to believe the misogyny online is not representative of our society’s views on women, the avalanche of toxicity on the platforms is something we have to learn to live with.&nbsp;
Women interested in politics must come prepared to endure hate. Likewise, if these comments are not real, and are bots or fake accounts that seek to demoralise women, then we must understand that the political powers of today are weaponising misogyny to prevent women from being leaders.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Democracy in the manosphere

Nepali Times #1301

I was a new mother trying to protect my young family from Covid in 2020, and that was when I first noticed Jacinda Ardern’s leadership. Our own prime minister was spreading misinformation about the strong immune system of Nepalis and our herbal concoctions being antidotes.&nbsp; Later in 2024, Ardern showed up after the mass shooting at mosques in New Zealand with tears in her eyes, and the strong message: “They are us.” It was refreshing to see such empathetic leadership, especially as political news was dominated by elected authoritarians, while Nepal was held hostage by repeat prime ministers.&nbsp; Ardern’s book A Different Kind of Leadership should be essential reading for all Nepalis with political aspirations, especially the new generation that wants real change. The theme that repeats throughout the book is to be human before becoming a politician.&nbsp; The book is not just about Ardern showing up for her people as one of them, it is also about why she decided to show up the way she did, and what brought her to politics to begin with — resolve, a little bit of luck, and stepping up when she had to.&nbsp; Political ambition is not a bad thing. But stepping up to lead when the situation demands it, and knowing when it is time to leave, is what makes a leader. Ardern was given the opportunity to become her party’s deputy leader at a relatively young age, and her party leader resigned — two events uncommon in Nepali politics. Ardern mentions multiple times not thinking of herself as politician material because she has a thin skin, and she talks equally often of her feelings of being intimidated in political spaces, up until she accepted the position of party leader.&nbsp; But she was accountable at a time when we in Nepal were getting used to non-reactions and non-answers from the loud, confident men who played with power. Somehow, somewhere, not least because of the malestream ideas we have been fed about politics and politicians, we imagine that leadership should look a certain way. Strong, macho, loud, confident or even better, overconfident. We imagine that empathetic leadership is soft, is scared to make people angry, is ineffective.&nbsp; LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE Ardern’s leadership was effective. New Zealand had less Covid fatalities than most developed countries, and it went in and out of lockdown with relative ease. Ardern’s approval ratings were high at a very unstable time in politics globally. A significant portion of the chapters that talk about Ardern’s time in office also delve into her struggles being a working mother. But she does not consider herself a supermom who did it all. She portrays herself as simply a working mom, one with lots of support, and discusses how common it is for parents, especially mothers, to juggle work and family. She comes across as one of us. There is a section in the book where Ardern’s daughter asks her the question she has been dreading, and which many of us working moms also face, “Mummy, why do you have to work so much?” Ardern explains that she has a “very important job” and explains it to her three-and-half-year-old as “looking after people”.&nbsp; I put down the book when I reached that sentence. I want the next prime minister of my country to read this book, and then lead. I want the next prime minister of Nepal to think that he (all the top contenders for the job are men, page 9) is looking after people, making sure no Nepali child is undernourished, that people can make a living without risking their lives, hearing the concerns of citizens and solving them.&nbsp; I want him to lead like a woman, like Sushila Karki has been leading for the last six months, with quiet determination and integrity, and without fanfare. I want him to remember that leadership is just service, and that, like Maya Angelou wrote, ‘Your legacy is what you do every day.’ It is not loud speeches and the making of some imagined, glorified history. Karki was picked to lead us back during the black days of early September when the country was in flames. The very first video of her on 9 September, the day after young people and students had been shot by the government that was meant to protect them shows her angry and emotional, her voice shaking.&nbsp; It was Karki’s actions in those days of fragility that showed us, once again, that the leader we deserve gets emotional on our behalf, but also knows how to do the work. After five years of leading her country through a global pandemic, Ardern realised that she is exhausted, that she does not have enough in her anymore to keep leading New Zealand, and she steps down.&nbsp; Towards the end of the book, Ardern tells readers like herself, sensitive and self-doubting, that if we want to be leaders, we should channel our anxieties and sensitivities to humble ourselves, to read more and seek out advice, and prepare ourselves for the challenges. Nepal’s next prime minister has to have these qualities: humility, teamwork, diligence and accountability. Good intention, ambition, university degrees, professional achievements are not enough to change the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; And when they have completed the task, or when they know they cannot do it they must have the courage to step down like Jacinda Ardern.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Jacinda book details"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Ending Nepal’s malestream politics

If you did not watch the understated movie उनको स्विटर / (The Woolen Sweater) after it was released in May last year, you missed a major turning point in Nepali cinema. Much-hyped films fall short of expectations, but here is an exquisitely acted and directed production with a strong underlying message of tolerance. What a contrast from formulaic melodramatic Kollywood fare — a love story so simple, cinematography so subtle in capturing the beauty of the monsoon on mountain pastures, and a background folk song accompaniment that evokes the flavour and tenor of multi-ethnic eastern Nepal. Since its release, Unko Sweater received praise in Nepal, but it was in multiplexes across Nepaliphone India where the movie became a rage. Positive reviews spread by word of mouth on social media, where the script, performance and camera work were praised for reflecting a genuine and unsullied rural Nepal. The movie is a layered portrayal of caste, ethnicity, gender and culture with the tender romance between the shy Dharanidhar Kafle (Bipin Karki) and Phool Gurung (Miruna Magar) in which the two, despite being soulmates, have to deal with societal norms and gossip. They do this without rebelling, in their own quiet way. In the first scene in a crowded jeep, people are seen discussing an election. An elderly greying Kafle is headed home, and the rest of the movie has back and forth flashbacks revealing the story of his unspoken affection for Phool. But there is an undercurrent of ethnic rigidity. When Kafle’s brother Dambar elopes with Iksha Limbu, the repercussions are borne by both families. Then Kafle’s uncle is banished for being an outcast.&nbsp; Miruna Magar as Phool, as an ebullient woman, is in contrast to the introverted Kafle, who does not say much but has a melodious singing voice. As the plot thickens, Kafle is shown to be bound by circumstances that pose obstacles to his love for Phool. The storyline delicately shows how life and situations constantly force people to shift direction. Despite underlying differences, the various castes and ethnicities in this fictitious village near the Sikkim border get along because they have to. There is an interdependence between highland farmers and other ethnicities living down the valley that is at the heart of Nepal’s ethnic harmony. Despite taboos about interethnic and intercaste relationships, people still have trust and faith amongst each other. There is no time reference to the story, but it does speak of a nostalgic era decades ago when rural Nepal was not yet connected by roads and phones, when people had no choice but to get along. Things have changed now with outmigration, and education has blurred ethnic lines. A QUIET LOVE Director Nabin Chauhan is not in your face with his message, giving viewers a hint of deep rooted traditional values that still govern society. Each character adds to the storyline, validating the way they behave, pushing the plot forward.&nbsp; There are many emotions that are intricately woven into the plot, and the most prominent, of course, is love. Not the showy, lustful way it is shown in flamboyant formula films, but a quiet bond that does not need words, a silence, a glance and a gesture conveying the universe of love. When Phool asks Kafle what he will do if they cannot be together, he says he will build her a house with a beautiful garden of flowers in the meadows where he herds livestock. He builds it awaiting her return, while Phool knits him a sweater, the symbol of their interwoven love. In screenings of the film in Nepal and India, there has not been a dry eye in the audience. The background score and music by Kobid Bazra and the powerful rendition by Jhuma Limbu of the ‘Kafle’ strike a strong chord. The cinematography by Chintan Rajbhandari does not glamourise Nepal’s rural landscape, it is shown in its raw misty beauty as a constant backdrop. The viewer is uplifted by the notion that love transcends social restrictions and orthodoxies.&nbsp; The ending is left deliberately unfinished, possibly to make way for a sequel which we can only hope will be as compelling as उनको स्विटर. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260301060348_42480e8b6934c9a5c518c44c2970748b341bbbf290c2b303b6aa6359d883567b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260301060348_42480e8b6934c9a5c518c44c2970748b341bbbf290c2b303b6aa6359d883567b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="560" loading="lazy" alt="Unko Sweater"> </figure>  उनको स्विटर / (The Woolen Sweater) Artmandu Nepal, 2025 Directed by Nabin Chauhan 145 minutes Available now on YouTube <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lCgtmgiII7M?si=MirwKOwKmxE3jLS6" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

Now for something completely different

After his critically acclaimed 2023 book of essays सुन्यताको मुल्य on the state of women and children in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">Karnali</a>, paediatrician and writer Nawaraj KC has come out with a next one, Swasparsh. The new book is almost a sequel to the first one, with real-life stories drawn from his medical practice and social engagement. Both are powerful accounts of suffering, resilience, and the search for human dignity in Nepal’s most remote and underserved districts. The book opens with deeply disturbing yet real incidents of the suicide of a Grade 2 student. A &nbsp;frantic mother rushes in with a son who had already written a suicide note but was saved at the last moment. There is a desperate call from a young woman threatening to jump into the Karnali River.&nbsp; We meet children carrying immense trauma: a toddler who refuses to eat after losing her mother, and another child who stops speaking after experiencing sexual abuse within the family. The emotional climax comes when KC himself falls into depression after being violently attacked by a drug addict patient, leaving him with a serious head injury.&nbsp; But this is not a book of only sad stories of deprivation and poverty. It is how people who find themselves in the worst circumstances struggle to overcome what life has thrown their way, and triumph in the end. By just surviving against all odds, people emerge stronger, often with a renewed commitment to helping others. As a paediatrician working out of his native Surkhet in Karnali Province, KC's work brings him face-to-face with the human side of what a centralised government’s neglect and apathy can do to communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-dasain-in-kalikot">Nepal’s most far-flung region</a>. KC shows empathy not just to human beings in trouble, but also animals and underlines the importance of coexisting with the natural world. By helping others individuals ultimately help themselves. Although a paediatrician by profession, KC demonstrates a deep understanding of structural oppression, gender discrimination, caste hierarchy, class inequality, and regional marginalisation within the Nepali state.&nbsp; He also captures moments of tenderness, such as young couples supporting one another through hardship. How poverty can drive families to take heartbreaking decisions — like a patient forced to discontinue life-saving medicine in order to qualify for disability allowances needed to repay debt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1646" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  A former teacher is forced to beg despite receiving treatment, exposing the failure of conventional development models that ignore sustainable livelihoods.&nbsp; Then there are inspirational stories like the one of Mandire, who ran away at age 12 to work as a labourer in India, suffered severe burns while unloading coal, and lost a hand. Despite this, his infectious smile and fortitude transformed him into a local symbol of hope both in India and Nepal.&nbsp; Even in old age, he is always smiling and helping others less fortunate.&nbsp; Through Mandire’s story, KC explores the science of the healing power of a smile, the positive psychology of a ‘mental gymnasium’ in which optimism is cultivated through conscious practice.&nbsp; For example, a young girl from the historically marginalised Badi community which faces deep social exclusion refuses to accept her circumstances, and grows into an advocate for other disadvantaged children. A devoted foster mother dedicates her life to raising orphans, empowering them despite her own hardships. One of the book’s strengths lies in its accessibility. In Nepali language, KC blends science, philosophy, and lived experience into everyday language that resonates with villagers and ordinary readers. He comes across not only as a doctor and healer, but also as a teacher, nature lover, and social activist. He tries to introduce greenery to a remote school, and how this transformed children’s learning experience. He reflects that his patients are his greatest teachers helping to expand knowledge beyond medicine and technology into the realms of humanity and ethics. I read Swasparsh after witnessing the recent GenZ movement. The book’s recurring calls to youth, appearing at the end of several chapters, has special relevance today. KC reminds young readers that hardship is part of everyday life, but within struggle lies the potential for healing and growth.&nbsp; He encourages self-reflection, self-healing, and cultivating a positive mindset. Above all, he asserts that humanity’s greatest gift is its own human capacity henceforth solutions to all problems lie within oneselves rather than outside forces. The GenZ movement represents an urban youth revolt against traditional political parties and state institutions that have failed to deliver opportunities and accountability. Rising unemployment, widespread corruption, and frustration with stagnant governance have fuelled demands for new political alternatives.&nbsp; With the 5 March election less than three weeks away, many young people hope that new forces will be capable of bringing systemic change. Yet whether these forces can truly meet their aspirations remains uncertain. Established political actors are reluctant to relinquish power, while emerging groups often lack organisational depth and historical experience. In many ways, these new political actors resemble the people of Karnali: resource-poor, And in the periphery of power, yet rich in commitment and determination. Drawing from Buddhist teachings that recognise suffering, understanding its causes, and seeking pathways to overcome it, KC indirectly inspires today’s youth. Every problem contains the seeds of its own solution, provided we learn to know ourselves, care for ourselves, and care for others. Ultimately, the title Swasparsh means self-healing, self-reflection, and self-confidence. At a time of political uncertainty and generational change, this book speaks directly to Nepal’s younger and the emerging alternative forces — reminding them that transformation begins from within.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  Hisila Yami served as CA member, Minister of Physical Planning &amp; Works, Minister of Tourism &amp; Minister of Land Reform. At present, she is a member of Central Political Council in Pragatishil Loktantrik Party and is a lecturer in IOE Pulchok.

Essays on self-realisation and self-healing

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an AI video on TikTok of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. AI-generated Mahabharat edits positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

Amidst the euphoria in Nepal about the RSP’s landslide victory, the party’s future government, possibly led by Balendra Shah will plunge headlong into an energy and economic crisis sparked by the war in West Asia.
Nepal gets all its diesel, petrol, gas and aviation fuel from India and lacks a strategic stockpile to buffer against shortages. The United States has unsanctioned Russian crude oil to India for one month, but India will only export refined petroleum products to Nepal after meeting its own domestic demand.
“This conflict didn’t develop overnight, yet we did nothing to augment our reserves. Clearly, we didn’t manage procurement anticipating supply disruptions,” says economist Pushkar Bajracharya.
The conflict has escalated, seriously disrupting global petroleum supplies. Nearly 20% of the world’s oil and gas moves out of the Strait of Hormuz which is now blocked. The Persian Gulf makes up most of the oil and liquified natural gas supplied to Japan (75%), India (50%) and China (38%). Crude oil prices have nearly doubled to $100 a barrel this week.&nbsp;
“This crisis is only going to intensify, so in the short term, it means fuel prices will increase as will the cost of goods and services,” adds Bajracharya. “This doesn’t bode well for the new government, especially when people have such high expectations from it.”
Fuel stoppages from India have happened before, notably during the 2015 Blockade. But Nepal could be better placed this time to cushion the shock because of the proliferation of battery-operated vehicles, and electrification of household cooking to some extent.
“The increase in electric vehicles provides some relief, but it is not enough,” says energy economist and former Water Resources Minister Dipak Gyawali. “Most critical services still run on diesel, and they cannot be replaced overnight.”&nbsp;
Nepal’s expanding road network means diesel and petrol consumption is also increasing. If the war drags on, there will be a critical shortage of aviation fuel that could also hurt tourism at the start of the trekking and mountaineering season. There is already a nationwide shortage of cooking gas which is used by 62% of Nepali households. &nbsp;
The fuel crisis will have a knock-on effect on the economy which the RSP government will have to tackle on an emergency footing as soon as it comes into office.
The priority would be to cap fuel prices with subsidies, control hoarding, and in the longer term expedite the switch to electricity for transportation and cooking.&nbsp;
MONEY IN
The other impact will be on jobs in West Asia and remittances. Nearly half the $11 billion a year Nepalis send home every year comes from West Asian countries. Nepal’s hard currency reserves have hit a record high $21.09 billion, but that cash will be of no use if there is no fuel to buy.
A sharp drop in remittances due to the collapse of the economies of the Gulf states if the war is prolonged will have a multiplier impact particularly on Nepalis' household expenses and the country’s economy in general. This in turn will have a knock-on effect on investment, and affect the RSP government’s main agenda which is to create jobs at home.
The vicious cycle will then mean that more Nepalis will want to migrate for overseas jobs, but options in the Gulf may not be available.
The RSP’s ministers in government will have to come up with innovative ways to re-integrate Nepalis forced to return because they lose their jobs, or for safety reasons. There are nearly 2 million Nepalis across the UAE, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, and another 7,000 mainly women caregivers in Israel.
“Other than the impact on remittances and the economy, there could be the additional challenge of rescuing over 2 million Nepalis in West Asia if it comes to that,” says Bajracharya. “We don’t have the resources, and we will have to rely on India’s logistical help.”
The RSP’s main vote bank was among global Nepalis, who could not cast &nbsp;ballots themselves but influenced families and friends back home to choose the party. Social media was abuzz with slogans that promoted how choosing the RSP would bring their children back home from the Gulf.
“The RSP got a majority, and that’s a good thing but voters came together to oppose UML, NC and the Maoists. But there is no clear ideology or philosophy, so while their slogan to bring Nepalis back from the Gulf sounds nice, what would they come back to?” asks Gyawali.
The Nepali diaspora in the Gulf that influenced the electorate so effectively will now be looking at how the government it helped get to power in Kathmandu will help as war engulfs the region.&nbsp;
There is an almost unrealistically high expectation of the RSP, and the party may not even get the customary 100-day honeymoon period. The cabinet could be put together easily enough, but the bureaucracy, judiciary, police, and the Upper House are all populated by loyalists of the old parties.
Despite bad blood, the RSP will have to work together with all parties in the face of the crisis unleashed by the war. And Nepal’s politicised foreign policy must be galvanised to deal with the crisis.

Rough road ahead for new Nepal rulers

Jhapa today looks like the aftermath of a battlefield. Election posters and party flags droop along roads under a brooding overcast sky.
Yet, the mood is hopeful. This was the constituency where Nepal's history was made -- where a candidate promising a new future defeated one representing the old, failed ways.
Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) scored a decisive win here with 68,348 votes, defeating four-time former prime minister K P Oli of the UML who got only 18,734 votes.&nbsp;
The result caps a nationwide surge by the RSP, which is set to secure more than a two-thirds majority in the lower house of Parliament, signalling a fundamental realignment in Nepali politics away from traditional party structures toward personality-driven leadership.
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The Jhapa-5 victory marks a moment when Nepal’s political centre of gravity shifted from cadre-based party machinery to a youth-backed reform movement centred on former Kathmandu mayor Balendra Shah. For decades, Nepali elections have been powered by cadre-based party structures.&nbsp;
The UML enlisted 400 out of 450 voters of Barhasudi village in Gauriganj Rural Municipality 4 in a ceremony attended by K P Oli himself. However, the outcome showed the limited effectiveness of traditional structures in the current political environment, which favours digital outreach, youth networks, and personality-driven support.
A district-level UML cadre in Jhapa, who asked not to be named, admitted the limitations of traditional organisation: “We have the organisation down to every ward, but this time that did not matter as much. Voters were hostile during door-to-door campaigning. People were voting for Balen as a person, not for a party. Our cadres did their work, but the voter mood had changed.”
Traditional party loyalty alone may no longer be sufficient to secure electoral victory in Nepal. The Nepali Congress (NC) positioned Gagan Thapa as its prime-ministerial face, while the UML continued to campaign around Oli.&nbsp;
“What guaranteed the RSP’s success is that it had established itself as an alternative while positioning Balen Shah as the alternative for the PM post,” explains political analyst Bishnu Sapkota. Even a renewed NC under Gagan Thapa was burdened by the baggage of old politics because technically his party was only half-new.&nbsp;
Sapkota notes that Sher Bahadur Deuba had already sanctioned the party's PR list and other electoral processes; consequently, people saw nothing new in the Gagan-led NC because he had no time to lead it before the elections.&nbsp;
The parliamentary system does not allow voters to directly elect the prime minister, yet this election resembled a presidential-style contest centred on Balendra Shah.&nbsp;
The RSP’s campaign messaging framed the vote as a mandate to make Balendra Shah prime minister, effectively turning parliamentary ballots into a referendum on his leadership. The strategy proved effective: with a two-thirds majority in Parliament, Shah now has the numbers to lead the country for five years.&nbsp;
Nepal has drifted off unstable coalition-dominated politics. For many voters here, the logic was straightforward: elect enough RSP candidates and Shah becomes prime minister.&nbsp;
“I voted for Balen because I wanted the RSP to form a majority government and him to lead it,” says Jhapa-5 voter Ranjit Subedi. Shah attracted cadre-like loyalty without cadres, a follower base driven more by sentiment and aspiration than by party machinery.&nbsp;
Sapkota notes that personality-based politics is fairly new: “Rabi Lamichhane started this trend during the 2022 election as his popularity made the RSP the 4th largest party in Parliament last time.&nbsp;
Balen, on the other hand, has maintained an enigmatic aura that has captivated people to an extent that they do not enquire about his vision, which comes with its own risk of public disappointment if he fails to deliver.”
With a two-thirds majority, Shah has the parliamentary numbers for government stability, a rare achievement in Nepal coalition-dominated politics. Yet whether he can maintain the RSP’s unity and the youth movement’s enthusiasm for five years remains to be seen.&nbsp;
Sapkota warns: “This level of public support empowers a leader, as this is stronger than a mere formal electoral mandate, but it comes with the risk of the system being overridden by a superman-like figure.”
It is rare in the world and in Nepal that two top leaders compete in the same constituency. The only other example was back in 1991, when Madan Bhandari ran and won the seat in Kathmandu-5 against then Prime Minister Krishna Prasad Bhattarai. In Shah’s case, his bold decision to challenge K P Oli, as the face of the old establishment in his stronghold catapulted him to victory.&nbsp;
The Jhapa-5 victory represents more than a symbolic contest between Nepal’s political establishment and a rising, youth-backed reform movement. Following the state killing of GenZ protestors on 8 September, Oli’s political authority eroded fundamentally.&nbsp;
Damak-based journalist Sujan Gautam witnessed Oli’s declining popularity here post-September: “He would have lost to some other strong figure too.”&nbsp;
An judicial investigation committee led by Gauri Bahadur Karki formed to investigate the violence, deaths, and property damage on 8-9 September submitted its 900-plus page report to the interim government on Sunday. The report is said to recommend action against those found responsible, including Oli and members of his cabinet and security apparatus.
Santosh Dhimal, a GenZ voter from Damak, says: “K P Oli was not suitable to be our leader because he lied after ordering the shooting of people my age who were peacefully protesting.”
Prime Minister Sushila Karki has said her government will publish the main conclusions after reviewing it with the home ministry and cabinet.&nbsp;
Oli’s broader vulnerability here lay not just in the state’s response to GenZ protests, but also in representing an old political class that was cadre-heavy and ideologically bankrupt. Political analyst Bishnu Sapkota says, “Oli was the most visible face of the old corrupt political culture that Nepalis had grown to detest.”
This election result is not merely a party winning by a landslide, but a departure from the type of political culture that the old parties represented. Even if RSP does not deliver, society has moved on. The question is whether the 2026 election is a genuine transition, or merely a pendulum swing before the next disillusionment sets in.
Another Jhapa-5 constituent Ranjit Subedi acknowledged Oli’s historical contribution, but added: “A leader must know when to retire gracefully. He has done a lot for Jhapa-5 and the country during the Indian blockade but his time is over now.”

Jhapa-5 after its political earthquake

Mamata Kumari Yadav was born just before her father passed his high school exam on his second attempt. Which is why Ram Kewal Ray thinks his daughter brings good luck. Mamata is now a government civil servant, and has three sisters and a younger brother. All are doing well in their professions: one is a doctor at the Army Hospital, another has an MSc in Microbiology, and the other is working in Australia after finishing her MPh. Her brother, an engineering student, is in Kathmandu. “It was all because our parents prioritised education that we did so well in life,” says Mamata. Instead of being woken up to do household chores or work on the family farm, they were encouraged to finish their homework first. While Ram showed his daughters the way and encouraged them to study, it was Sanjeev Karn, a primary school teacher at a school near their home, who motivated them to do well. On International Women's Day, the story of Mamata and her sisters is an inspiring account of dedication, hard work and good guidance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422" data-rendition-name="original" width="873" height="980" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Samata, Punam, Kumudini and Mamata, the four accomplished Yadav sisters from Sarlahi</figcaption> </figure>  Boys always came first in class, but that changed when Mamata and her sisters started excelling in their studies. All four sisters consistently ranked first in their classes and became widely known in the community for their performance. “My friend Sanjay Chaudhary was my biggest competition and used to stand second. He is an engineer now. We are still good friends and laugh about how we were rivals,” recalls Mamata. In a school where no girl had previously passed the high school exam with first division, Mamata became the first to do so and set a record that her sisters later followed. Her uncle in Kathmandu called her father Ram Kewal with the news that Mamata had passed in the first division. Overjoyed, her father went to school and bought Fanta for all her teachers in celebration.&nbsp; Mamata went to Chitwan after receiving a scholarship for a health assistant course. Although her school in Sarlahi was Nepali-medium, she was not able to speak the language properly and felt more comfortable using Maithili. In the new environment, she struggled with language and confidence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata in Sarlahi with her siblings and father when she was young</figcaption> </figure>  She was surprised to learn that Maithili is not spoken all over Nepal. The course was demanding, the textbooks were in English, the student community was diverse, and academic expectations were high. But Mamata began building friendships and confidence. Her sisters later joined her in Chitwan. Mamata returned to Sarlahi and began working with an organisation as a counsellor on sexually transmitted infections. It was her first job, and was proud to be able to support her father. Her second job with a non-profit required field visits across Sarlahi district, so she bought her own second-hand scooter.&nbsp; “Some neighbours did not approve that my parents gave me so much freedom, but they did not pay much heed to such warnings or gossip,” she says. Seeking stability she prepared for the civil service exam for auxiliary health worker position and was stationed in Sindhupalchok. When her father came to drop her off, being used to flat land he was a bit nervous about the steep mountains and 90-minute commute on foot. But he was proud to hear her patients call her ‘doctor’. Later, Mamata transferred back to her home district of Sarlahi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="965" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata Kumari Yadav</figcaption> </figure>  On a work trip to Kathmandu, on her family's recommendation she met a young man who was pursuing a master’s degree in engineering. Their first meeting was at a cafe in the presence of her brother. She found him simple, gentle, and committed to his studies, qualities that resonated with her own personality.&nbsp; “We got married, and my parents did not have to invest in dowry for me and my sisters because they had invested in us,” recalls Mamata, who then became a health post in-charge in Lalitpur. Following administrative restructuring, she found herself reporting to juniors, which limited her sense of growth. She then decided to prepare for the civil service exams in administration. Coming from a health background, the syllabus was unfamiliar and broad. Her first attempt taken without much preparation was unsuccessful, a first failure ever for Mamata.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Seeing off her sister Samata who studied MPH under the AusAID Scholarship</figcaption> </figure>  By this time, she had a son and the exam took a back seat for two years while managing her health post and raising him. When he turned two, she sent her son to Sarlahi, where her mother Phul Kumari took care of him so she could focus on her studies. This time, she passed. She became the first from her family in a government administrative position. After gaining enough experience, she aims to go back to the Madhes to serve in government positions as an honest bureaucrat. Her parents continue as they always have. Phul Kumari takes care of the household while Ram Kewal runs a pharmacy and tends to the farm back in Sarlahi. &nbsp; “We daughters owe a lot to our parents because our peers were never given the kinds of opportunities we had,” says Mamata. “They were married young and now have adult children. There is nothing girls cannot do if given the right guidance and opportunities.”

The Girl Dad of Nepal

It took the September GenZ firestorm and public anger against non-performing actors for a 35-year-old structural engineer and rapper Balendra (Balen) Shah to oust Nepal’s four-time prime minister and former revolutionary.
The UML’s KP Oli has been trounced by 50,000 votes in his home turf, an area where he has won many elections in his 55-year political career. It is the same story across Nepal, where established politicians are being rejected by voters.
A 'Balen Wave' has swept the country, dyeing it in the RSP’s Blue party colour. But the UML and NC particularly did this to themselves.&nbsp;
An apology and a retirement after the September protests would have saved Oli some dignity, and given the rebranded UML a tiny bit of hope and perhaps a few more electoral wins.&nbsp;
Maybe he could have been remembered fondly as the funny old guy who made one last fatal political error, but now he will be defined by this defeat. Maintaining control and legitimacy in his own party will be hard too.&nbsp;
Contrary to his past combativeness and blaming nefarious foreign conspiracies, Oli gracefully conceded on Saturday, congratulating 'Balen Babu' &nbsp;and wishing him 'a successful five years'.
Balendra Shah and his RSP knew what they were doing. As of Sunday, it has won 118 and leads in 7 other constituencies, a lot of them with similarly wide margins of victory. RSP candidates have even beaten well regarded candidates like Gagan Thapa of the NC and Kulman Ghising of Ujyalo Nepal.&nbsp;

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 <figcaption>Animation: ANUP TAMU</figcaption>
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Many including this paper questioned the RSP's strategy of choosing popular candidates over competence. But the point of an election is to win it, and there was a short campaign window to put it all together and the RSP pulled it off most successfully.&nbsp;
To be sure, the party should not get too much credit. Its manifesto was broad and bland, and no different than the other older parties.&nbsp;
A big part of the RSP ballots, maybe even most of it, were people voting against the old parties rather than for it. Many seemed to feel that this was coming, and perhaps even hoped for it.
There is also a sense of lingering cynicism. Nepal has had several revolutions and many new political starts and things always seem to end up in the same corrupt hopelessness. There is every possibility that the new RSP government will also go the same way.&nbsp;
The RSP is much bigger than Balendra Shah, although it was his popularity that made this victory possible. Its victory brings with it a sense of hope as all new things do.&nbsp;
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Not all party members who were elected are going to be as accountable or have integrity. Many of them have a chequered past, saw an opportunity in joining the RSP and took the risk.&nbsp;
What changed things were the events of September. Politicians saw firsthand that 'Power to the People' is not some abstract idea. Get too loose to it, forget that you are ruling and not serving, and you get booted out.&nbsp;
The interim Sushila Karki government deserve credit for delivering on its biggest mandate of holding the election in such a short time frame. The expectation at large was that the polls would be delayed or even scuttled.
In fact, a two-thirds RSP majority is a great opportunity to rethink the country’s political culture and institutionalise change. The point of the government in a democracy is to serve the people. Appointing non-political, competent people worked, at least in the short tenure of the interim government.&nbsp;
Adding layers of bureaucracy and committees and party politics along federal, provincial and local levels heaped resistance to the simple goal of making lives easier for the Nepali.&nbsp;
Nepal is getting a reboot, and the next few months will show whether the country is on the right track with its new generation government.

Balen takes Jhapa and Nepal

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Nepal election live results

This is the 88th 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. Chandra Gurung, Sierra Leone Six of us came to Nepal from Sierra Leone to vote for घण्टी of the RSP. But the six votes were wasted because of the crisis in the Gulf and delayed flights. We arrived the day after the election.&nbsp; The morning we were supposed to fly out, we found out our flight was cancelled, so we had to postpone by four days to figure out an alternate route. Luckily, we did not get stranded in the Gulf like many others. Even though I missed the election, I now look forward to spending time with my family especially to help my children with their studies as their exams are approaching. I am happy because it looks like we will get the outcome we desired and came to Nepal for. Stability is Nepal's most urgent need. If the government is stable and works for five years, they might be able to build change.&nbsp; Fighting corruption, quality education and job creation should be the priority for the new government. We had already advised our families to give the new party a chance. Despite being a new party, the RSP has been able to win the hearts of people. Well-educated people with professional backgrounds have joined the party even though they might not have experience in politics. I first left Nepal in 2008, I am still abroad, and I do not know when I will return. I need to save. I want to see this new government create the conditions to bring us back. In these 18 years, I have not felt like returning. My goal is to make sure I can provide good opportunities to my children. I miss home, going overseas is only to make a living.&nbsp; Suraj Bhandari, Korea I had timed my vacation to vote for Nepal. In our discussions back in Korea, the GenZ protest made those of us overseas want to vote for and bring change. Whichever party it was, we wanted a new one. I had also told my family that if I was unable to arrange my vacation around the election, they should consider voting for new candidates.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260307020344_ebd90331e37dd1c6d37c4d1e35fe58eefcbf1923894cf397aafb7a81b887d63f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260307020344_ebd90331e37dd1c6d37c4d1e35fe58eefcbf1923894cf397aafb7a81b887d63f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali migrants in Korea"> </figure>  We have seen what the old parties have done for the country, they had their chance which they wasted.&nbsp; Leaving Nepal feels different because this time, I am leaving with the hope that Nepal will soon be worth returning to. What I realised after migrating is that when you are away, you have even more love for your country. We overseas youth know the pain of being away and wanted to vote for change.&nbsp; If you earn one lakh abroad, you are willing to work for half that amount back home so you can be with your family. Next time when I come back to Nepal, I want to be able to come for good and not just on vacation. I leave with hope. I hope to return to start my business in Nepal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260307020344_e835553553e201610afabafa73827a8b7e56d05a6b86c14721f3080d3d5a730f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260307020344_e835553553e201610afabafa73827a8b7e56d05a6b86c14721f3080d3d5a730f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Korea migrant worker"> </figure>  Investing here in a small business is very risky and I hope that changes. I think we have done our part, now it is up to the new government to do its part. They have five years to deliver and if they don’t, we will again have to look for change. I hope history won't repeat itself. When the Maoists came to power, they had brought a similar sense of hope and people believed them and voted. They started off well initially but failed to deliver. I hope that won't happen with घण्टी. Rajendra Kunjeda, Belgium Those of us overseas have attachments back home. But because of the Gulf crisis I was not able to make it on time for the election.&nbsp; When I talk to colleagues in Belgium, the broad consensus among us Nepalis was that we should give the new party a chance. The expectation from the new government is that we need a way out of the rut the country is in. That is what the election was about.&nbsp; When you live in a developed country, you also hope the same for your country. Transformation takes time, but I hope for the best. Not all the old guard was bad, and not all the new guard will be good either. But the new government has to take the country towards development. The expectation is not for overnight change.&nbsp; I was lucky to get a scholarship to study in Europe and have now started working. My degree in agricultural science is relevant for Nepal and the world – you need food to live.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260307020344_1b419bdc71ea6b2b307d5cace49112f976757949b64323fea282986e11231b55.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260307020344_1b419bdc71ea6b2b307d5cace49112f976757949b64323fea282986e11231b55" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"> </figure>  I felt bad about not making it on time for the election because I was so excited. Not everyone can return, but what the diaspora wants is evident from social media posts and conversations. I did not influence my parents back home because it is their right to vote for whoever they wanted.&nbsp; During the GenZ movement, the deaths of the students were devastating, but it has also made it clear that the nation is desperate for change. It was an outcome of trying to suppress the change that youth desired.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260307020348_3fa02333f99ff131e84e31c2e990aa40fc1797913b5e6625a18f86d40649ddfa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260307020348_3fa02333f99ff131e84e31c2e990aa40fc1797913b5e6625a18f86d40649ddfa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z movement"> </figure>  In Nepal, I have worked with returnees who came back during Covid-19 to see how their skills can be productively utilised in Nepal. There is a lot of potential there which the government needs to prioritise.&nbsp; I have not decided whether to stay overseas or return to Nepal. If day-to-day life and bureaucracy were easier, it would be better. When I am assured that I can sustain myself and get a sense of satisfaction in Nepal, I will consider returning. I need to feel confident in Nepal, feel ढुक्क that if I work hard both I and the country will benefit. This requires a collaborative approach. The Blue sweep means we are on the right path. Sudip Khanal, Denmark I was coming from Denmark to vote. My wife and I left on 28 February but we were stuck for eight days in Istanbul. I was coming to vote for change. I am happy to see that Blue is winning. Even though I did not get to vote, I am glad the country is getting the change it needed.&nbsp; I first went to Denmark in 2022, starting as a student and after graduation I am working. The Nepal embassy in Copenhagen has made things easier to deal with immigration stuff but for a wider population across the world especially the Gulf I also wish the embassies did more.&nbsp; This time our government was not proactive in supporting Nepalis stranded overseas due to the Gulf crisis. Our main wish is that the new government creates new opportunities at home. Education, healthcare and jobs should be the biggest priorities.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260307020344_a774a87b087d49498900728988049634956e8286a61923d9a8cd0de2fafa49ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260307020344_a774a87b087d49498900728988049634956e8286a61923d9a8cd0de2fafa49ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Belgoum Nepali migrant"> </figure>  If I could earn up to Rs80,000 back home I would return. I studied business in Denmark but I don’t yet have the guts to return. I am worried about whether there will be a return on investment here and there are no jobs to fall back to. Abroad, I can work for someone else even if I cannot start my own business. I hope change will now come. But this will not happen quickly. All of us back in Denmark supported change. We wanted to come as a group but many students faced constraints like exams or classes. I had no holidays but after the GenZ protests I did not want to waste my vote. Unfortunately, I was not able to return in time but I convinced my parents to give घण्टी a chance for the RSP. Let’s see how things go. ANONYMOUS, Dubai I lived in Dubai for five and a half years, returned to Nepal for a year, and then remigrated two years ago. It was convenient that my holidays and the election coincided.&nbsp; The new government should provide proper job opportunities back home. There are 4-5 people in a house, you need at least Rs50,000 to live comfortably in Nepal. When someone is sick, where can we go?&nbsp; Companies abroad are not always good about leave. You are promised something here, and get another job abroad. Embassies do not always listen to us, like the Philippine embassy.&nbsp; People get tired and give up.&nbsp; I am updating election results on my phone but I am more worried about my flight which is likely to be cancelled because of the situation in the Gulf. The airline just says ‘it is not cancelled till now’, but they do not tell you when you can fly.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260307020348_399b70503f4e25a35e21574985d0d188285b457c38534ae6d95b35e4546b5683.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260307020348_399b70503f4e25a35e21574985d0d188285b457c38534ae6d95b35e4546b5683" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali migrants"> </figure>  I paid Rs5,000 to come here from Dhanusa just to be told there are no flights. It is simple things like this that need improvement. We have watched politicians for many years and they kept youth unemployed. How can you love any government that has killed kids?&nbsp; The new ones say they will do something, lets see. Foreign labour migration has helped me. I cannot earn even Rs10,000 a month in my village. How will I support my children? If I go, I can send them money. My family is happy. I work hard for them. If my दुख्ख keeps 4-5 people in my family सुख्ख it is all right, isn’t it?

The diaspora and Nepal's Blue Sweep

As this report is uploaded, the latest results in Nepal’s election show that the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) is headed for an even bigger sweep than most had predicted.
The RSP was leading by large margins in 49 of 165 constituencies, &nbsp;with the UML, NC and NCP trailing far behind. Prominent political figures from the old parties like K P Oli, Minwndra Prasad Rijal, Ishwar Pokhrel, Bishnu Prasad Poudel, Bimalendra Nidhi all seem headed for defeat.
It does look like the RSP’s bell election symbol is ringing right across Nepal — from cities to the remotest districts in the mountains and plains. The party’s blue colour is sweeping the land.
The Nepali people seem to have sent a clear message that they were throughly dissatisfied with the chronic failure of the three main parties to work in the national interest to create jobs and deliver development. It was also an expression of lingering outrage over the the 8 September massacre outside Parliament. &nbsp;
It now looks almost certain that Balendra Shah will get to be Nepal’s next, and youngest, prime minister. Hopefully he will be leading a cabinet of competent and honest technocrats. It remains to seen how the power equation between Shah and the RSP’s leader, Rabi Lamichhane will play out.
Lamichhane is out of jail on bail for fraud cases which he has called political vendetta by the previous regime. Both he and Shah are charismatic and ambitious. Their working relationship will determine Nepal's political stability and whether it can avoid the political cronyism of the past.
This election was not just about casting votes. It was about standing up to principles and a value system, and respecting the hopes and aspirations of Nepal’s youth. It to push for transparent government and against impunity — including for the gunning down of young Nepalis in cold blood.
<div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://election-geo-dashboard.pages.dev/" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"> </iframe>Live election results as winners of candidates are announced.</div>
CAN DO MAN
Shah got mixed reviews as mayor. He was impulsive and ad hoc, but most people inKathmandu and beyond liked his can-do attitude and unconventional style which stood in sharp contract to the legacy leaders. Over his three year mayorship he showed more maturity and planning capacity.&nbsp;
But he always ran headlong into opposition from the federal government over his urban planning and other initiatives to make Kathmandu more liveable. Coming from a civil and structural engineering background, he was involved in building low-cost housing after the 2015 earthquake.
But his public persona is more tied to his irreverent rap lyrics that stood up for the marginalised underprivileged in society, while exposing the high-handedness and apathy of the state. But this also exposed contradictions because he also used his own municipal guards to beat and chase away street vendors and squatters.
But there is no doubt that a combination of the sharp messaging in his rap videos amplified by the algorithms of social media ignited Nepal’s youth to rise up. It was more about optics and emotion than policy and strategy.
He studied Kathmandu district for five years, visiting experts in every field before announcing his independent candidacy for mayor in 2022. Many like me in his own constitunecy did not know who he was and where he came from.
He is a year younger than my architect son, and I saw in him a reflection of my own son’s commitment to serving the nation. I voted for him to be mayor despite his sometimes erratic behaviour, which could be attributed to his youth.
The best sign of his strategic planning, which unsettled septuagenarian and octogenarian politicians, is the he did not grab the first easy option of becoming prime minister in September when GenZ activists offered him the post.&nbsp;
Joining RSP was a masterstroke, as was his challenge to Oli in Jhapa to project national branding. He needed a party platform and Lamichhane needed a popular prime ministerial persona since he himself could not hold the post.
Shah has shown the capacity to take risks when he believes the value justifies the action for the country. Now, he will have to show more strategic thinking on a national scale, as well as understand the delicate geopolitics of Nepal.&nbsp;
He must rise above the kind of crude social media posts that earned him followers on X, but did nothing to erase his erratic and impulsive image.&nbsp;
Some assume that behind his trademark RayBan shades is a closet dictator, and his past remarks about Hitler are still up on social media. He has in the past shown impatience with criticism, unleashing supporters on social media to troll detractors.&nbsp;
Even so, the public seems willing to place their hope on an educated young man with integrity and a proven record for planning at the helm. By tomorrow it will be clear whether the hope Nepalis have held has been fulfilled, and the coming years will show if the RSP will lead Nepalis to a better future.
The voters seem to have shown the door even to the NC despite the fact that under Gagan Thapa, the party had turned a new leaf. A strong government under Prime Minister Balendra Shah heading a carefully selected cabinet and a strong opposition of the NC, UML and other parties for check and balance may be just what we need for a stable Nepal.&nbsp;
Nepalis have collectively always shown maturity in elections. This time they have given a resounding endorsement for integrity and for good governance.

Bells ring all over Nepal

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

Nepali Congress (NC) President Gagan Thapa's candidacy in Sarlahi-4 has thrust this Madhes constituency into rare national focus. If Thapa wins and the NC emerges as the largest party, Sarlahi-4 will send Nepal's next prime minister to Parliament. But if he does not, Nepal’s grand old party will face the next years in the opposition to fight another day. There is a troubling paradox in Sarlahi-4 where the district bordering the Indian state of Bihar has been a battleground for national politicians with fierce electoral competition, all while remaining one of the region's most underserved and underdeveloped constituencies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260305140344_069cbbc11e971a851b444866dee57f760c0cc611ed40bdf96c627e343e3c0485.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260305140344_069cbbc11e971a851b444866dee57f760c0cc611ed40bdf96c627e343e3c0485" data-rendition-name="original" width="1802" height="1276" loading="lazy" alt="Sarlahi-4 voting"> <figcaption>Photo: MADHES PAHARA MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Ever since Mahant Thakur split from NC in 2008 to form the Tarai Madhes Loktantrik Party, the district has seen rotating political alliances and fragmented votes. Yet, despite 18 years of candidates promising change irrigation schemes remain incomplete, market access for farmers has not improved, unemployment is high.&nbsp; On election day, voters here marked their ballots with fingers stained by dye from the Holi festival the day before. The road leading to Barathawa Bazar was deserted for the most part, except for some youth riding in motorcycles. This is where the high-profile contest between Gagan Thapa and RSP nominee Amresh Singh is being staged. Among the other aspirants is 27-year-old UML candidate Amnish Yadav, the son of former MP Shiv Pujan Yadav. The Yadavs are a political family with considerable caste influence in the constituency. In 2022 Yadav’s daughter Madhumala Yadav received over 14,000 votes here, ranking third overall. Yadav was voted MP from the Maoist party, but defected to the UML this time. His other son is the chair of Sarlahi’s Ramnagar Rural Municipality. Sarhali-4 has 121,012 voters, and the Yadav is banking on the 27,000-strong Yadav vote bank. Sarlahi-4 voter Avishek Sah told us he wanted his vote to go to a young nominee and not someone who has been MP thrice already, like Amresh Singh. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260305140344_527c5c2f9aa6a6c7e3bbdfbfe79fdafb0a0b56a62427e9ced86b924c6c563b10.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260305140344_527c5c2f9aa6a6c7e3bbdfbfe79fdafb0a0b56a62427e9ced86b924c6c563b10" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Sarlahi-4 voting"> <figcaption>Photo: AYUSHA CHALISE</figcaption> </figure>  To make local loyalties even more complicated, Amnish Yadav’s uncle, Harinder Yadav is an active NC member and walked side by side with Gagan Thapa during his door-to-door campaigns.&nbsp; The NC is betting on Thapa getting over 60% of the total votes. Amresh Singh’s tally could be limited to 10,000 votes — that too because of the nationwide RSP wave, and the popularity of its prime ministerial hopeful Balendra (Balen) Shah. “Amresh Singh lost his appeal when he played victim after he was denied a ticket by the NC in 2022,” Harinder Yadav says. Voters we spoke to here agreed with this assessment that Singh did not do much for the district once he got elected in the past, and being a part of the RSP seems to be his biggest asset. “The only reason I voted for Amresh Singh is because Balen is in RSP,” local voter Mahendra Gupta from Barathawa. &nbsp;“This is his last chance to return the people’s trust.”&nbsp; Gupta is aware of the institutional presence of the NC here. The party received the most votes in 2022 local elections, adding that the candidacy of someone as high-profile as Thapa is a positive sign for Sarlahi-4.&nbsp; Other voters like Ruby Gupta are rooting for both the NC and the RSP. “I will vote for Gagan and for Balen,” she says, adding that her FPTP vote will go to Thapa while her PR ballot would be for the RSP. RSP supporters are confident that their candidate will win big because even though many voters may not have openly voiced their support they still voted for the party and candidate. The Balen Wave was not limited to RSP voters, but also to UML candidate Yadav, who said in a gathering that he will be “the voters Balen” if they elect him. He touted his party’s track record in government, and largely campaigned on administrative efficiency, infrastructural expansion, and local service delivery. Amresh Singh ran on the RSP’s anti-establishment brand, promising to fight corruption, challenge traditional party politics, improve basic services such as education, health, jobs, and infrastructure, while pushing for stronger representation and development for Madhes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260305140344_982df01801fa7d3532ca0555ecb8a0756e3223be3d93650e08ca82a312dc2ebd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260305140344_982df01801fa7d3532ca0555ecb8a0756e3223be3d93650e08ca82a312dc2ebd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Sarlahi-4 voting"> <figcaption>Photo:AYUSHA CHALISE</figcaption> </figure>  Singh’s rivalry with his NC competitor goes beyond the ballot— he allegedly blames Thapa for being denied the NC ticket in 2022, which led him to win the election from Sarlahi-4 as an independent. &nbsp; For his part, Gagan Thapa focused on a more pragmatic development agenda that includes upgrading roads and irrigation, improving schools and hospitals, supporting farmers, and creating employment opportunities with improved governance at the centre. He also promised to build an engineering college in the constituency.&nbsp; Thapa also promoted his own anti-establishment image within the NC, repeatedly reminding voters on the campaign trail that he represents the aspirations of the youth.&nbsp; On Thursday, as voting progressed, there were violent disruptions in two centres where voting was briefly halted. But Sarlahi district police spokesperson Saroj Rai told Nepali Times that there were no major problems. Police in collaboration with the Nepal Army sent the ballot papers to the district’s counting stations, where the votes are expected to be tallied through the night and the winner announced Friday morning.

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