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

China Geological Survey has reported that the natural gas deposit in Dailekh has a volume of &nbsp;80.70 billion cubic meters. Initial estimates projected only 1.12 billion cubic meters. The Department of Mines and Geology has stated that comprehensive testing is needed before commercial use to replace diesel and LPG imports.&nbsp;

Dailekh gas

Turkish Airlines unveiled its 500th aircraft, an Airbus A350 named TK Family at Istanbul Airport on February 12. The plane features a livery that has photographs of the airline’s 100,000 employees and retirees. The airline was launched in 1933 with five aircraft, now serving 356 destinations across six continents. The unveiling was attended by executives, former senior staff, retirees and the aircraft with call sign TK500 performed a ceremonial flight tracing the number 500 in the sky.&nbsp;
The airline also displayed replica aircraft representing each major fleet milestone — the 100th in 2006, 200th in 2012, 300th in 2016, and 400th in 2023. Chairman Prof. Ahmet Bolat described the 500th aircraft not as an endpoint but as the beginning of a “Second 500” era. The airline is targeting a fleet of 1,000 aircraft by 2036.

Turkish 500th

Cambridge University Press &amp; Assessment recognized over 47 Nepali students in its Outstanding Cambridge Learner Awards for the November 2024 and June 2025 series. Four students achieved Top in the World, 36 earned Top in Nepal, and 14 received High Achievement awards. Notable schools include Rato Bangala, St Xavier’s, Trinity.&nbsp;

Cambridge Awards

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

Besides being an election year in Nepal, 2026 is also the year of anniversaries. It is exactly 30 years since the Maoists launched their armed struggle on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/13-february">13 February 1996</a>, and it was on 27 April 2006 that the ceasefire came into effect after a month of massive pro-democracy protests.
Alas, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/not-ever-again">three decades on</a>, the decade-long conflict that claimed 17,000 lives has been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/ghosts-of-war">air brushed from our history</a>. For the survivors, and the families of those disappeared and killed, memories of loss and suffering are fading. The party that fought the war in Mao’s name has dropped it.
It is important on this day to remember not to forget that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3203">violent decade</a> -- so that it does not happen again, and so the youth movement that has led to this election will also not be in vain.
The 8 September 2025 rally, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">the massacre that followed</a>, and the nationwide mayhem and carnage the next day were largely a result of public anger boiling over. Nepalis had been let down repeatedly by rulers promising revolution in the name of the ‘people’: from the 1990 People’s Movement I, to the Maoist ‘People’s War’, and the 2006 People’s Movement II.
There are some positive residual effects of the insurgency. One-third of the Maoist militia was <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-sibling-war-juna-rai,731">composed of women</a>, this empowered not just the female guerrillas themselves, but indirectly made a whole generation of young women aware of their rights.&nbsp;
The peace process itself resulted in the Maoists entering the democratic mainstream, and the induction of many of the guerrillas into the national army – a rare occurrence after a conflict.
The ceasefire was followed by an interim government, and the first elected <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-letter-and-spirit">Constituent Assembly</a> abolished the monarchy in 2008. Deadlock over the model of federalism meant a second election had to be held in 2013, and the new Constitution <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/by-the-way/new-constitution-should-adopt-inclusive-democracy-with-federalism-republicanism-secularism,538">finally promulgated in 2015</a>.&nbsp;
That statute was supposed to devolve political decision-making away from Kathmandu to autonomous provinces, improve inclusive representation of women and hitherto excluded castes and ethnicities at all three levels of government, ensure accountability and good governance to generate jobs and lift living standards.
There were seven governments in ten years after 2015, and tottering coalitions one after another failed to fulfil any of those provisions in the Constitution. There were subliminal gains in representation of women thanks to affirmative action, but as this election shows, women candidates are still used as proxies by patriarchal parties.&nbsp;
Since the two warring sides of the Maoist war both became the state, sharing power in dozens of coalition cabinets since 2006, they colluded to bury the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-unpunished-war-crimes">transitional justice process</a>.
The former supreme commander of the Maoists Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) has become prime minister three times in the last 20 years. He is contesting this election from Rukum East, where he marked the 30th anniversary of the start of armed struggle on Friday.
The word ‘Maoist’ has been erased from the Nepali Communist Party which Dahal formed with more than a dozen other smaller leftist outfits. His main rival, Janardan Sharma, quit the Maoists and is standing for elections in Rukum West.
Both former comrades are competing for the hearts and minds of people of this former base area from where the Maoists went on warpath on 13 February 1996 by attacking a police station in Athbiskot, and simultaneously on targets in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7812">Holeri of Rolpa</a>, Sindhuli and Gorkha.
The former ideologue of the Maoist party, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/20-years-wasted-in-war,2850">Baburam Bhattarai</a>, was the architect of the revolution while Dahal was the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6369#.Y-XIii8w1KM">executor</a>. Bhattarai submitted a list of 40 demands to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a> (during his first tenure as prime minister in 1995) but did not wait for a reply before launching the armed struggle.
The Maoists felt that the constitutional monarchy after 1990 was too feudal, and a patronage-driven parliamentary system too slow to bring about change. Besides, the democratic parties were accused of using state security to prevent Maoist candidates from winning elections.
The Maoists followed Mao’s Red Book to the letter, attacking police stations, looting weapons and targeting local elected governments, eliminating ‘class enemies' with summary executions.&nbsp;
They destroyed telecommunication towers, highways, bridges and airfields in remote areas. Threats forced health posts, schools, post offices to be withdrawn from areas where people needed them the most. The country’s development was pushed back decades.
Nepal in the early 1990s was ripe for revolution. There was inequality, social injustice, exclusion, and the political parties in Kathmandu were too busy squabbling to do their job. The Maoists wanted an end to the monarchy, but in 2001 the monarchy imploded with the royal massacre.
ABSOLUTE POWER
King Gyanendra succeeded his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8338">murdered brother</a> to the throne, and took the country back to absolute rule with a military-backed coup in 2005. Within a year, street protests forced him to step aside. And by 2008, it was too late to save the monarchy.
We can look back as far as we want to the roots of the Maoist conflict. It can be blamed on elected leaders post-1990 who abandoned the people once in power, the 30 years of partyless Panchayat system that stifled dissent and let social pressures build up, or even 100 years of Rana rule.&nbsp;
It was the prolonged indifference on the part of successive rulers in Kathmandu that fed public discontent. These accumulated grievances were also the reason for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">September 2025 events</a>.&nbsp;
During China’s Cultural Revolution, Mao Zedong said: ‘The old has to be uprooted to be replaced with the new’, and that could almost be the anthem of the GenZ movement and this election.
The objective conditions that drove the Maoist insurgency 30 years ago are still evident today. And much will depend on the government(s) that will be formed after March.&nbsp;

Remembering not to forget

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?

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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

AI is coming for ‘content’ -- everything from advertising and novels to movies and journalism. The result is likely to be simultaneously horrific, wonderful, depressing and exciting. There will be not only creative destruction, but also lots of plain old destruction.
Having spent most of my adult life producing research, journalism and documentaries, as well as consuming escapist novels and movies, I have great sympathy for creators.&nbsp;
But for the past three years, I have been an investor and venture capitalist in AI, and this experience has shaped the message I would offer to everyone in journalism, publishing, music, advertising and Hollywood: you ignore the potential of this technology at your peril.
First, consider the prospects for film and television industry which have been contracting for years, owing to the new forms of media delivery (streaming) enabled by the internet, laptops, tablets and mobile phones.&nbsp;
The decline of cable TV and DVDs reflects a variety of factors, including video streaming, the rise of user-generated content, the democratisation of creation through inexpensive cameras and software, and the resulting competition for eyeballs from YouTube, Facebook and TikTok.
Yet throughout this decade of painful contraction, the fundamental techniques of video production did not change much. You still used real cameras to film real people and things.
Soon, though, all these real-world inputs will be obsolete, replaced by AI. The pioneers of this new world will be, without exception, startups, some of them less than a year old.&nbsp;
The $600 billion digital advertising industry is next. The leading startup in AI commercials, Higgsfield, was founded only in 2023, but its business has exploded, with revenues doubling every month, on track to exceed $1 billion this year.
DAY AFTER TOMORROW
The AI revolution is coming to the arts and the carnage in legacy industries will be awful. What the day after will look like, however, is a far more complicated question.
Personally, as a once and future filmmaker, I am excited about AI filmmaking. I would love to be able to write treatments and screenplays, feed them to my AI ‘studio’, get back a good rough cut and then hone and hone with AI until I have exactly the film I want to make, with every character, setting, movement, line of dialogue and camera angle perfect.&nbsp;
There is, however, an urgent need for new laws, system and institutions to protect intellectual property and its creators. The most discussed issue is the very real need to compensate traditional creators whose prior work is being used to train AI models. But there is also a need to protect AI creators and creations.
Far more frightening is what is happening to nonfiction — news, information sources and reference services. Here, we are already witnessing the blurring of the boundaries to the point of indistinguishability between fact and fabrication.&nbsp;
While the AI era of art excites me more than it worries me, the balance is different in the realm of truth and reality. As much as there is to celebrate, I am terrified by what AI might bring.
Journalism, like Hollywood, has already contracted. The internet forced daily newspapers, weekly magazines, radio and television news all into the same market, it destroyed the classified advertising revenues that newspapers depended on, and it spawned thousands of low-quality new entrants.
To be sure, after multiple near-death experiences, a small number of high-quality English-language news organisations emerged even stronger and with larger global audiences than before: the New York Times, the Financial Times, the Guardian, Bloomberg News, the Economist, Politico and the Reuters and AP wire services. But these outlets reach only a small minority of the population. They are also expensive to produce and their finances are fragile.
The most frequently discussed issue is AI deepfakes. These are indeed a huge problem, considering that YouTube, Facebook, Snap, X and TikTok face few obligations with regard to truth or accuracy. Soon, it will be possible to synthesise nearly undetectable fake versions of almost anyone and almost any event.
Even the most carefully trained AI models can be misused and some open-source AI models have no controls whatsoever. Yet at the same time, AI has greatly improved the quality of news and information available to the public, at least for anyone interested enough to look.&nbsp;
The major models (mainly OpenAI, Anthropic and Google), and many value-added services enabled by them, are now remarkably good. Hallucination is still a problem, but far less so than even a year ago.
Already, AI models provide a miraculous portal to knowledge for more than a billion users. I use Perplexity at least a dozen times a day, and I used it repeatedly in writing this essay — far more often than I referred to legacy publications (or Google Search).
Similarly, there has been an explosion of specialised AI services, including reference resources for lawyers, scientists, doctors, patients and now also AI therapists.&nbsp;
But there is a dark side. AI models do not create knowledge. They harvest and distribute knowledge superbly, but they are totally dependent on information created by others. We (and the models) still need Politico, the New York Times, the Financial Times, AP, Reuters and the whole world of news organisations. They alone have commissioning editors, full-time journalists and fact-checkers while AI models do not hire investigative journalists or war correspondents willing to take risks.
Yet as much as AI models depend on legacy journalism, they also profoundly threaten it in at least two ways. As in the case of Hollywood, these threats are further amplified by the fact that the legacy industry isn’t paying attention.
The first problem is direct competition. If you want to know something specific, or want to stay current with some issue, you don’t need a news publication anymore; you can just ask a model. Moreover, the currently available models can answer many questions that the news organisations cannot. Perhaps worst of all, they are cheaper — much cheaper. For individual users, they typically charge $10 per month, whereas the New York Times typically costs about $25 per month.
The AI models have a cost advantage in part because they can amortize their fixed costs across huge numbers of users. But they also benefit greatly from not paying for most of the information they use.
Currently, there is a strong moral and practical argument being made for forcing model vendors to compensate creators fairly. But this will probably require new court decisions or new laws. In the meantime, there is a very real risk that unless news organisations, journalists, writers and documentary filmmakers are compensated sufficiently, the AI industry will eventually kill the very sources on which it depends to provide accurate results.
This brings us to the second problem posed by AI: the potential destruction of trustworthy news sources as a result of overwhelming pollution from AI junk and fraud. Innumerable AI services will arise and even the major foundation models and the most careful news organisations might be degraded by skillful AI fakery that cannot be distinguished from reality. So far, the models have been trained on reality; but soon, most training ‘content’ will be AI-generated.
One can hope that news organisations will wake up, that courts and legislatures and popular demand will force AI companies to compensate journalists and researchers fairly, and that AI will give rise to a new industry of high-quality journalism. © Project Syndicate, 2026
Charles Ferguson is a technology investor, policy analyst and documentary filmmaker, including the Oscar-winning Inside Job.

AI takeover of all media

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/what-the-interim-government-gave-bangladesh">Bangladesh’s 12 February election</a> carried historic weight because it was held in the aftermath of the July 2024 student-led uprising that ended the long-running regime of the Awami League’s Sheikh Hasina.
Alongside the parliamentary contest, voters were asked to decide on an additional ballot referendum known as the ‘July Charter’, a proposal linked to constitutional and administrative reform debates.
I served as an independent international observer from Nepal, authorised by the Election Commission of Bangladesh and observed polling day procedures in selected centres outside Dhaka, intentionally moving beyond the capital city which was the focus of the international media and diplomatic community. We visited 17 polling stations in remote Bancharampur and Gazipur constituencies.
The Bangladesh Election Commission’s emphasis on technology was evident. Upazila Police personnel deployed for election duty were equipped with body-cams, and there were more CCTVs Police personnel deployed for election duty were equipped with body-cams, and there were more CCTVs at several polling centres. These measures reflected an effort to enhance transparency and accountability.
For the first time, the Election Commission reportedly created a WhatsApp coordination group that included human rights defenders and security officials. This group enables rapid information-sharing and prompt security responses to potential incidents.&nbsp;
Bangladesh introduced postal voting for citizens abroad who had not renounced their citizenship. The postal ballots were processed and counted with QR code technology. Similar arrangements to vote by mail were also made for government employees who could not go their home constituencies. This gave voters respect of their ballots and franchise.
Youth participation in this election was significant. Many first-time voters expressed enthusiasm and a strong sense of ownership over the democratic process. Their turnout and visible engagement suggested a generation keenly interested in shaping the country’s political direction.
Women voters were also notably active. In multiple centres, women formed long queues and appeared confident about navigating the voting process. Minority community members were also present. Precautionary measures had been taken to thwart any disruption.
In the polling centres mostly located in schools, the overall environment was calm, orderly, and peaceful. Election materials were properly arranged, voting compartments ensured procedural clarity, and no major disruptions or visible irregularities were observed in the centres covered.&nbsp;
Security personnel were present but maintained a non-intrusive posture, contributing to a sense of order without interfering in the voting process.
Polling officials demonstrated familiarity with procedures, including voter identification and ballot issuance protocols. In informal conversations, station in-charges articulated procedural steps clearly and appeared confident in managing operations.&nbsp;
Queue management systems were generally in place, and voter verification processes were conducted in an organised manner. While observations were geographically limited, the professionalism of officials in the visited centers contributed positively to polling efficiency.
The vote counting was carried out promptly. Polling booths were required to send recorded data of the ballots cast directly, which significantly streamlined and expedited the counting process.
Despite the generally smooth procedures, certain accessibility challenges were observed. Senior citizens, lactating mothers, and individuals who appeared physically unwell were seen waiting in queues for extended periods. Priority mechanisms for vulnerable groups were not consistently visible across all centres.
Polling officials estimated turnouts between 50-60%, reflecting mid-day assessments rather than final figures. Voter flow remained steady but the ban on the former ruling party may have dampened some of the voter turnout.
What stood out most was the broader public mood. Many voters appeared motivated and engaged, particularly given the country’s recent political developments. Elections are not merely procedural exercises; they reflect citizens’ aspirations, expectations, and trust in institutional processes.
One of the most distinctive features of this election was the referendum on the ‘July Charter’. In some polling centres, this additional ballot appeared to generate confusion. A number of voters indicated they understood they needed to mark ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, yet some were unclear about the substance of the proposal.&nbsp;
Many younger voters seemed better informed about the implications of the referendum. Their engagement suggested that civic awareness surrounding reform debates may be evolving generationally. The referendum element added a constitutional dimension to what was already a politically significant parliamentary election.
LESSONS FOR NEPAL
Nepal also goes to the polls on 5 March, six months after its own student-led protests in September. Several of the practices seen in Bangladesh could be relevant.&nbsp;
Bangladesh has made notable strides in electoral reform and administrative efficiency, creating a sense that the country has taken a meaningful step forward in improving the accessibility and management of its electoral process.
Polling day was a crucial indicator of administrative preparedness and civic participation. The Bangladesh election illustrated both strengths and areas for continued civic education, especially regarding public understanding of referendum questions. Youth engagement, women’s participation, and enhanced security coordination were encouraging signs.
Historic elections shape nations. They also leave a lasting impression on those privileged to observe them closely. Democratic consolidation is an incremental process. Orderly procedures, technological monitoring, and visible participation reflect institutional maturity. At the same time, inclusivity particularly for vulnerable groups remains an essential benchmark.
Mohna Ansari is an advocate, a practicing lawyer at the Supreme Court and Former Commissioner of National Human Rights Commission of Nepal. She was a member of the International Election Observer team from Nepal.
Local observer Muzaffar Hossain Chaudhary also contributed.

Bangladesh’s post-uprising election

There is a growing tendency to frame Nepal’s current political turmoil primarily through the language of Foreign Hands.
Across talk circuits and commentary today, Nepal’s unfolding crisis is increasingly being explained through external influence —foreign powers, hidden backers, geopolitical plots.
In a tense regional environment, this framing is understandable, but it also risks becoming a convenient shortcut. By looking outward first, it subtly shifts attention away from the harder, less comfortable work political parties and institutions have long postponed: internal reform, accountability, and rule-bound governance.
Three collapses in three decades and seven constitutions in as many decades should force us to pause for self-reflection. Add to this nearly thirty changes of government in just as many years.&nbsp;
Nepal’s democratic century, which began in 1950, has been marked by repeated conflicts, transitions, and crises. Not all of these can be explained by — or blamed on — &nbsp;forces from outside. This persistent finger pointing pattern indicates structural weaknesses at home.
Long before the September GenZ uprising, many observers (including myself) had been warning that Nepal was approaching a tipping point.&nbsp;
The concern was not foreign interference, but accumulated internal fragility: weak checks and balances, cartel-like party arrangements, politicised constitutional bodies, episodic accountability, and the near absence of credible, nonpartisan civic watchdogs.&nbsp;
Together, these produced a system operating at the edge of collapse. In such systems, small triggers — a protest, a ban, a spark — can produce cascading effects far beyond their immediate cause.
Explaining this rupture mainly through foreign influence can feel reassuring, but it ultimately absolves domestic actors of responsibility. External pressures do exist, but they become decisive only when internal institutions are already hollowed out and exposed.&nbsp;
When institutions are weak and compromised, outside forces stop dealing with the state as an institution and begin negotiating directly with individual political powerbrokers. At that point, sovereignty erodes quietly — not through invasion, but through leverage.
This is why the current obsession with identifying external hands risks missing the deeper lesson. The more revealing symptom may not be foreign maneuvering, but the ease with which, for example, militant cadres, informal networks, and extra-institutional actors are able to step in and exert influence, right under our nose during this election cycle. This is just the tip of the ever fragile institutional iceberg that needs tending.
CADRE MACHINES
As some have recently noted, these 'cadre machines' are not causes of the crisis so much as indicators of a broken system — filling a vacuum left by institutional decay.
Nepal’s deeper challenge, therefore, is not denying or ignoring outside influence. It is rebuilding the internal capacity that makes such influence less consequential: credible institutions, internal party democracy, transparent rules, and steady and independent civic oversight that operates beyond election cycles. Without this foundation, every crisis will continue to invite external interpretation — and external leverage.
Several recent essays on my Nepal Unplugged newsletter may be of interest to some: why Nepal’s current crisis is better understood through internal institutional fragility than through the language of 'foreign hands'. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Alok K. Bohara, PhD, is Emeritus Professor of Economics at the University of New Mexico, and writes his newsletter <a href="https://substack.com/@nepalunplugged">Nepal Unplugged</a> as an independent observer on Nepal’s socio-economic and political landscape. &nbsp;

Foreign hands, or homegrown failure?

The recent Nepali Times Substack post titled ‘Unresident Nepalis’ made me realise I also belong to the category of Nepalis who are technically Non-resident Nepali (NRN), but want to ‘permanently reside inside Nepal’.&nbsp;
Although this was meant as a joke, it is ironic that many of those who go abroad long to come back home, and those who have not emigrated cannot think of a good enough reason to stay back in Nepal.&nbsp;
As soon as the NRN Citizenship was officially introduced in late 2023, I had tried to apply for one but was shut down before even submitting my documents as the district administration office firmly told my then lawyer that I needed to prove “तिन पुस्ता” proof of three generations of Nepalis from my father’s side.&nbsp;
My late father was from Japan and relinquished his citizenship to become a Naturalised Nepali citizen in 2006. Three years ago, I dismissed the rejection with the thought that I will try again later when government officials would gain more experience with such applications.&nbsp;
Now, with an ailing mother and an energetic toddler, I felt the need to act soon and reached out to a law firm that specialises in NRN citizenship applications. To my surprise, they were positive after reviewing my documents, although they did warn me that we may need to overcome some obstacles.&nbsp;
In 2023, I had applied in the district office where my father had received his naturalised citizenship, but now the suggestion was to try from the district where my mother had received her Nepali ancestral origin “बंसागज” citizenship.&nbsp;
The lawyers pointed to the NRN citizenship mandate which clearly states that it can be acquired via a Nepali origin father, mother, grandfather or grandmother. The firm helped arrange the necessary documents required and the first step was to get a “सिफारिस” &nbsp;recommendation letter from my mother’s ward office.&nbsp;
This was the first hurdle as the ward office was unsure if they could issue such a letter, so they checked in with their head office, and luckily we received the go ahead. After persistent follow up from the law associates, they were able to provide us with a recommendation letter and we filled out the application forms.&nbsp;
The law firm wisely suggested that I take the paperwork myself to my mother’s district office while they stayed in the background in case I needed help explaining my situation.&nbsp;
With a big smile and cheerful tone, I dutifully followed the process and to my surprise, I found most of the officials ready to help without creating unnecessary hurdles. The application has to be signed off by the Chief District Officer (CDO) or Assistant CDO and just when I thought wow, I am going to breeze through this, one officer noticed that my father’s naturalised citizenship was from a different district and told me that I should apply for my NRN from there.&nbsp;
I explained that my father has already passed away and as he was not originally a Nepali, therefore it is not possible for me to get my NRN from his documents, as the requirement is ancestral “बंसागज” citizenship. The officer then went to check with their seniors and later told me that I would need police verification as an extra precaution.&nbsp;
Off I went to the police headquarters where they issued a sealed letter to be given to the police station that was in the same vicinity as my mother’s ward office. At the station I was told to get four people who are not my relatives to testify our documents are true.&nbsp;
This process happened to be more stressful than dealing with the government offices. At first, it turned out that most of my mother’s old neighbours had already passed away or had citizenship papers from another area. Others confirmed their availability, but later had conflicting schedules. Luckily, one very helpful old neighbour was able to arrange for enough people to verify the documents.&nbsp;
Encouraged that the end of the tunnel was in sight, I went back to the district office with all the requested documents, and after some initial pushback, I was finally referred to meet the official who signs off the documents before it goes to the CDO.&nbsp;
As luck would have it, the officials were in a meeting that lasted more than two hours, and I had to give my mother her insulin shot and noodles from the cafeteria in the waiting area.&nbsp;
When we were finally able to meet the officer, he didn’t even look at my papers properly and started questioning my lawyers whether they had even read the law, how could I apply for Nepali citizenship when I already had a Japanese passport, etc. He somehow assumed that I was looking to get a normal Nepali citizenship from my mother’s side, and we informed him that I was only looking to get an NRN citizenship, after which his tone became more apologetic and said that he would need to look into the law more closely.&nbsp;
It had already been three full days of working through each step of the process, and I had no problem waiting another day for the conclusion.&nbsp;
Perhaps because this NRN citizenship is a fairly new law and perhaps a lot of NRNs apply from the Nepal’s embassies in their country of domicile, throughout my experience, officials kept on telling me that a case such as mine has not been processed before.&nbsp;
My case being that I have never had a Nepali citizenship, my father having a naturalised Nepali citizenship and my mother being the only 100% Nepali in the family. I kept on saying that just because it has never been done before does not mean that it cannot be done, and sure enough, the next day the officer signed off on my documents, even kindly saying that they should have highly respected my application upon learning about my late father and his contributions to Nepal.&nbsp;
Although the intricacies of the NRN citizenship law have not been fully hacked out such as the transfer of land ownership, it is definitely a positive step in securing the rights and aspirations of fellow NRNs as many would agree that no matter where we go, “यो मन त मेरो नेपाली हो!”&nbsp;
Sonia Miyahara, Managing Director of Hotel Everest View, Trans Himalayan Tours &amp; Trekking Pvt Ltd &amp; Himalaya Kanko Kaihatsu Co. Ltd.

How I got my NRN Citizenship in Nepal

Bangladesh has just done something remarkable.
On 12 February, in what observers are calling the country’s first genuinely competitive national election in over a decade, millions of voters queued at thousands of polling stations across constituencies, many casting a meaningful ballot for the first time since 2008. 
That this election took place at all, that it was conducted with sufficient procedural credibility for observers and citizens alike to describe it as largely peaceful and orderly, and that it happened on schedule, is not an accident.
It is the culmination of 18 months of work by the interim government that inherited a country in crisis and was tasked with steering it toward democratic renewal.
As Bangladesh turns the page, it is worth taking honest stock of what the administration of Dr. Yunus accomplished over 18 months and where it fell short.
The context matters enormously. When Sheikh Hasina fled Bangladesh on 5 August 5 2024, following a student-led revolution in which over a thousand people lost their lives, the country was not simply between governments. It was in freefall.
The police had largely abandoned their posts. Violence erupted across multiple districts. The banking sector was riddled with non-performing loans accumulated through years of politically directed lending. The judiciary, the civil service, the election commission, and key regulatory bodies had all been systematically subordinated to a single party’s interests over fifteen years.
What Dr. Yunus and his team of advisers stepped into was not a functioning state awaiting a caretaker, it was institutional wreckage requiring reconstruction. 
What followed was a period of institution-building that, whatever its imperfections, deserves recognition.
The reform process was arguably the interim government’s most consequential undertaking. Eleven commissions were established, covering areas from constitutional design and the judiciary to policing, media, labour, and women’s rights. Their recommendations were consolidated and put through seven months of nationally televised consultations with political parties, producing the July Charter: a package of 84 reform proposals endorsed by some two dozen parties.
That level of sustained multi-party negotiation, in a country whose political culture has been defined by zero-sum rivalry between two dominant blocs, was without recent precedent.
The charter may be imperfect, but the effort to forge a broad consensus on institutional redesign was substantive rather than performative.
The election infrastructure itself reflected serious institutional work. The Election Commission was reconstituted. Voter rolls were overhauled, and postal voting was introduced for the first time, enabling overseas Bangladeshis to participate.
Some 500 international observers and journalists were accredited, including delegations from the European Union, the Commonwealth, and international election monitoring bodies.
The Election Commission has reported a nationwide turnout exceeding 60%. For a country whose last three elections under the Hasina government were widely dismissed as neither free nor fair, this represented a qualitative shift.
On the economic and diplomatic fronts, the interim government navigated a landscape that would have tested any administration.
Point-to-point inflation declined by late 2025, according to the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics, though it remained above the government’s own targets and continued to strain household budgets. Exchange rate reforms helped stabilise foreign reserves.
The diplomatic record was arguably stronger. When the Trump administration imposed a 37% reciprocal tariff on Bangladeshi goods in April 2025, the interim government negotiated it down to 20% by August, and then, just three days before the election, signed a formal reciprocal trade agreement with Washington that lowered the rate further to 19%, with provisions for zero-tariff access on certain textile and apparel exports, making Bangladesh the first South Asian country to finalise such an agreement.
An Economic Partnership Agreement with Japan secured duty-free access for thousands of Bangladeshi products.
Dr. Yunus’s visit to Beijing in March 2025 yielded over $2 billion in investments, loans, and grants, along with Chinese commitments to a long-term master plan for river and water management. 
After years in which Bangladesh had shut itself off from international scrutiny, the reopening of the country to the world was itself a diplomatic achievement of real consequence.
On the institutional front, the government’s own figures indicate that approximately 130 laws were enacted or amended during the interim period.
The National Board of Revenue was dissolved and restructured.
Bangladesh signed the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearances, a step the previous government had refused to take.
A commission of inquiry documented more than 1,600 complaints of enforced disappearances under the Hasina government. The national budget was presented via live broadcast for the first time since 2008.
None of this should be mistaken for a record without serious failures.
Law and order remained fragile throughout the period. The treatment of journalists drew criticism from international press freedom organisations. Women bore a disproportionate share of economic losses. Minority rights remain an issue. Youth unemployment remained stubbornly high. The macro-level economic stabilisation did not translate into relief at the household level for millions of citizens.
These are real failures, and they matter.
What deserves emphasis, however, is the nature of the interim government’s orientation. This was an administration that understood its mandate as transitional and one of repair. It did not attempt to entrench itself.
Dr. Yunus, who was 84 when he took office, had been called to this role by the student leaders of the revolution, not by political ambition. He accepted the position at considerable personal cost and committed to holding a free and fair election.
He then did so, on a date announced well in advance, and prepared to leave. 
In a region where democratic transitions routinely fail, where leaders extend their tenures through manufactured emergencies and constitutional manipulation, a government that builds the machinery for its own replacement and then steps aside is not a small thing. It is, in fact, quite rare.
With the election now concluded, Bangladesh has closed one political chapter and opened another. The era of the interim government is over. The period of elected governance is about to begin.
What happens next will depend on the capacity and commitment of whatever coalition forms the next parliament, and on the willingness of citizens and civil society to hold that government accountable.
The reform frameworks, the restructured electoral machinery, the July Charter, the restored diplomatic relationships: these are not completed achievements but open possibilities that the next government can build upon, strengthen, or neglect. 
For many Bangladeshis, this election also marks the end of an extraordinary and improbable chapter: a Nobel laureate summoned from civil society to oversee a national reset.
Transitional leaders rarely receive appreciative farewells, but Dr. Yunus does, not because the period was flawless, but because it concluded as promised. 
He and the advisers who served alongside him took on a broken state and did consequential, if incomplete, work to repair its foundations. They delivered a credible election. They built a multi-party reform consensus. They navigated a volatile diplomatic and economic landscape, with relentless domestic political pressure, without the country tipping into the kind of catastrophic instability that many had feared.
Dr. Yunus was imperfect, as all leaders are. But his compass pointed consistently toward accountability, consensus, and the democratic rights of the people who made the July Revolution.
He and his team gave Bangladesh something to build on. They modeled a form of public service grounded in diplomacy over domination, consultation over decree, and ethical commitment over expedience. 
As someone who has spent my career studying the structural forces that shape governance, power, and everyday life across the Global South, I know that democratic transitions are fragile. They fail more often than they succeed.
The next government will inherit enormous challenges: economic recovery that has barely begun, institutional reforms that are only partially implemented, a society still processing the trauma of authoritarian rule and revolutionary upheaval, ongoing environmental challenges -- the economic, political, social, and ecological challenges are all interconnected.
Whether the space for pluralism and accountability expands or contracts will depend on how reforms are operationalised and how vigilantly civil society insists on transparency.
The courage that filled Bangladesh’s streets in July and August 2024 has now expressed itself through the ballot box. Turning that democratic energy into durable institutions is the work of years, not months.
It falls to the new government, to civil society, and to every citizen. The election and referendum have restored a measure of procedural legitimacy, but the harder task is embedding that legitimacy in everyday governance.
It is up to all of us to build, to hold our new leaders accountable, and to ensure that the sacrifices of the July martyrs were not made in vain.
Bangladesh has turned a corner. Where it goes from here depends on all of us.
Farhana Sultana is a Professor of Geography and the Environment at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs of Syracuse University.
Reprinted with permission from <a href="https://counterpointbd.com/what-the-interim-government-gave-bangladesh">the original</a> published on COUNTERPOINT.

What the interim government gave Bangladesh

NT #1291

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

One aspect of colonial cartography of South Asia leaps out in this must-see exhibition – while the coastline of India, Ceylon, Burma are extraordinarily accurate in maps made more than 200 years ago, the Himalayan hinterland is wholly approximate and inexact. The accuracy improves as modern survey techniques are introduced by atlas-makers, but even then formidable terrain and forbidden lands thwart precision. Map aficionados will be fascinated by the 40 antique maps from The Rajbhandari Collection on display at the exhibition ‘Imaging South Asia: Nepal in the Making at Kathmandu Art Gallery’ at Baber Mahal Revisited from 13 February - 17 March.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_0cbeb88674a97c6292e2b43b2135df219257ca641cbd4723e9aabf5541c2b258.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260211090252_0cbeb88674a97c6292e2b43b2135df219257ca641cbd4723e9aabf5541c2b258" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="3485" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  The first maps were made on clay tablets and cave paintings, but maps improved with Chinese maritime charts of Southeast Asia and beyond. Nautical maps created during the European Age of Exploration used geometry, latitude and longitude. Competition for colonial riches rested on the accuracy of these maps. The Portuguese had the lead in the 15th century, but were soon overtaken by the Spanish with Columbus voyaging to India but landing up in the Americas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_1fb21d20cf29b408119f5279ce666e73dee089356e52277d753a27e3440364eb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260211090252_1fb21d20cf29b408119f5279ce666e73dee089356e52277d753a27e3440364eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="4030" height="3407" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  European mapping of the coastline of peninsular India &nbsp;began after Vasco de Gama sailed around the Horn of Africa to arrive at what is now Kerala in 1498. The British and French struggled for control of India, and the Carnatic Wars of the 19th century were extensions of their rivalry in Europe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_0fb0969dc3e07c5a77123b4aa5eb0f11d2ffea73c108077f7e4d1892d6bd4bb6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260211090252_0fb0969dc3e07c5a77123b4aa5eb0f11d2ffea73c108077f7e4d1892d6bd4bb6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2842" height="4160" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  While most of the maps at this exhibition were commissioned by the East India Company and the Survey of India, there are quite a few made by Parisian cartographers and feature Pondicherry and the Danish trading outpost at Tranquebar. Followed chronologically, the maps show improvements in cartographic techniques. The earliest French map L’Inde of J D Barbié du Bocage from 1760 is a copper engraving with hand painted colours demarcating boundaries. ‘Napaul’, ‘Gorka’ and ‘Catmando’ are depicted. The rivers of India are precisely drawn, as is the Brahmaputra (Yarou Tsanpou) even though locations across the rest of Tibet are rough estimates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_486dc1b12f391550516be164f27170d4702a69b5125c1b8c4b10f76fdae4c0b1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260211090252_486dc1b12f391550516be164f27170d4702a69b5125c1b8c4b10f76fdae4c0b1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1675" height="604" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  The 1781 map Carte des Indes en deçà et au-delà du Gange of Rigobert Bonne has slightly more detail about Nepal with even ‘Pattan’ and ‘Bagmally’ river marked. William Darton’s 1802 map has ‘Nogarcot’ and ‘Mocaumpour’ wrongly placed to the east of the valley of ‘Napaul’. Samuel Arrowsmith’s 1828 map ‘India and the Birman Empire’ has Nepal’s rough boundaries demarcated for the first time within a hand-coloured green border, with the mountain ‘Dholagiri’ and ‘Dhunchi’ appearing for the first time. The 1835 map by Boston-based American cartographer Thomas Bradford has a more precise ‘Burrampooter’ river with ‘Sgigatoe’, ‘Lassa’ and ‘Bootan’ marked. In Nepal, ‘Batgan’, ‘Macwampour’ and ‘Lelit Pattan’ appear near ‘Catmandu’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_5509c8e043a74b3e34e399c0684ca8eef7fc79953ee0dd18aedc738e8189d552.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260211090252_5509c8e043a74b3e34e399c0684ca8eef7fc79953ee0dd18aedc738e8189d552" data-rendition-name="original" width="4094" height="3646" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  One striking landmark appears consistently through a century of map-making from 1760 onwards, and that is the sacred Yamdrok Tso near Lhasa. It is precisely located, although it is drawn as a circular lake called ‘Jamdro or Palto Lake’ till J Bartholomew’s lithographic map in 1893 Constable’s Hand Atlas of India. Bartholomew’s map is also where ‘Mt Everest’ appears for the first time with its altitude ’29,002ft’ after Peak XV was calculated to be the highest mountain in the world by the Survey of India. Meanwhile, ‘Kinchinjunga’ appears in some of the earlier maps from the mid-1800s, north of ‘Dorjeloo’. The maps did not only have locations of towns, rivers and mountains but also other interesting facts about places. History buffs will find much to pore over in these maps.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_8280c979b175946a2ac29e22b7a2b2427f7f36f22093c3456524f1f529311498.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260211090252_8280c979b175946a2ac29e22b7a2b2427f7f36f22093c3456524f1f529311498" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2762" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Many have sites of major British battles while conquering India. The ‘British India’ map by J Rapkin has dates and times of the ‘Principle Massacres’ during the Indian Mutiny of 1857. The map also shows India’s growing railway network with completed lines and those ‘in progress’. Narrow gauge lines can be seen in successive maps snaking up to the Nepal border to haul sal logs for sleepers for India’s expanding railway network. Many maps were drawn by British military intelligence. One even has the Kuti route of the Nepal Army while invading Tibet in 1791, and the Chinese Army’s advance in hot pursuit through Kerung to Nuwakot.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_a41ff6a7453f95d1e83c12ed3f831911d65ebd4d2389e0e3b774252dfa037132.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260211090252_a41ff6a7453f95d1e83c12ed3f831911d65ebd4d2389e0e3b774252dfa037132" data-rendition-name="original" width="1173" height="679" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Pre-1857 maps show the western Tarai as a part of British India, but in later ones the Naya Muluk districts of Banke, Bardia, Kailali and Kanchanpur have reverted back to Nepal. The maps clearly mark Nepal as an independent nation, and represent it differently from Indian princely states. The Atlas of India of 1846 shows the ‘Dominion of the King of Nepal’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260211090252_52132146d9ee8b922560b98e90d866149715d7f53ced408b5f3af8f3b142a07b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260211090252_52132146d9ee8b922560b98e90d866149715d7f53ced408b5f3af8f3b142a07b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4149" height="3682" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Visitors will be curious about Nepal's claim to Limpiyadhura and Lipu Lek. A map by Mason &amp; Payne from 1846 clearly shows the ‘Kallee River’ as being the border between Nepal and British India, with Kalapni within Nepal. The Lipu Gad tributary (which India claims is the border) is not marked. Some other maps, however, seem to show the border not following the Kali river to Limpiyadhura but the tributary up to Lipu Lek.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026021112024_9a1b6055a9fbecca7b64c3882c205efb336aac03e64ecf43a2044cb079cd699f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2026021112024_9a1b6055a9fbecca7b64c3882c205efb336aac03e64ecf43a2044cb079cd699f" data-rendition-name="original" width="875" height="1215" loading="lazy" alt="Map Land NT"> </figure>  Imaging South Asia: Nepal in the Making&nbsp; Kathmandu Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Revisited&nbsp; 13 February – 17 March For guided walk-throughs and curatorial tours: +977 1-5318048 Panel discussions: -Cartographic Practices from the &nbsp;Gorkha Polity to the Present with Buddhi Narayan Shrestha and Kanak Mani Dixit&nbsp; Friday, 13 February, 4pm -Mapping Beyond Borders with Akhilesh Upadhyay and Amish Raj Mulmi Wednesday, 25 February, 4pm&nbsp;

Map land

We walk past familiar neighbourhoods and wonder how much it has changed. An ongoing exhibition at The Kalā Salon titled Changing Times by The Pagoda Group aims to do just that -- capture ever-changing society within a captivating display of colourful canvases. Brick-lined houses, local tea shops, ancient temples, quiet devotion are themes in Pradhumna Shrestha’s series Shangri-La, much of which is an imagined past filled with nostalgia of the place he grew up in. By keeping people out of the frame, he allows space for what he calls a divine aura to surface.&nbsp; “I was born and brought up here and my canvases echo the nostalgia of cities like Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Lalitpur which are dense with myth, folklore, religion, and an ever-present divinity. All of this is truly what is ours, and we must treasure it,” says Shrestha. “Whatever I truly felt in my heart, I translated it into my work.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260128100132_32a8f9e9816595f12ec0da357528feffbb249fd19adbb658c18e72e2b721f9df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1036" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  The swirling clouds that drift across Shrestha’s canvases borrow from thangka and paubha traditions, lending the scenes a sense of mysticism and otherworldliness. Within this dreamscape are red circular forms which represent wheels of chariots. &nbsp;The presence of divinity dominates from above, its presence asserted in soft blue brushstrokes below, as if the deity’s gaze itself has seeped into the land. Gods linger as guardians and temples hum with enigma in his paintings. In his much earlier work, Cultural Bond, a lakhe masked dancer bursts forward in vibrant red, dancing against a backdrop of molten gold clouds. The lakhe’s trance signifies protection and where it steps, the evil cannot follow. Hence, the skulls that surround but never fall beneath its feet but, one leg hangs suspended in midair, suggesting uncertainty, raising questions.&nbsp; Is this a symbol of culture and tradition, secure, or is it endangered by modernity? The work captures a society at a crossroads, honouring tradition while grappling with the risk of drifting away from it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260128100132_c78307920acc7b14fb9f469a011043661accec66c230b5e7587bcba0199bcbf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="979" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In Panchatatva Mandala, Pasang Bikram Lama fuses two mandalas into a single visual meditation, suggesting unity where each colour carries symbolic weight: yellow evokes the soil of the earth, blue flows as water, red burns with fire, and black opens into the vastness of the spatial sky. Together, these elements form a quiet cosmology that speaks of creation and dissolution, of life folding endlessly into death and returning again. Says Lama, “Everyone has a mandala of their own being, and the elements represent their cycle of life.” Mala Shrestha’s works Water of the Divine Mother and The Spirit of Serenity unfold in a dreamy and delicate fusion of nature and religion, suggesting that divine forms are not separate from the natural world. Trees and branch-like motifs appear as origins of sacred sculptures and spiritual presences.&nbsp; Her goddesses, adorned in alluring ornaments, emerge from trunks and streams, painted in aqua green, pink pastels, and rustic browns, as if grown rather than created, affirming that the divine is inseparable from nature and present everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260128100132_1f8cce84b4515a0d6d8b8fc169367bf5d39a7479c2c30038dafe90ec2bb3c4c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Kishor Nakarmi’s Essence of Nepal, where Gautam Buddha appears embedded within leaves, brick walls, birds, and wilderness, dissolving boundaries between the sacred and the earthly. These canvases radiate calm and their subtlety is enriched by finely observed details. Similarly, Rudra Bahadur Pun captures the vitality of mask dances and ritual movements found in the monasteries of Mustang, weaving together tradition, landscape, and daily life. The essence of the exhibition comes together in Roshan Pradhan’s works. His paintings reflect a contemporary tension where technology collides with ancestral myth and the power of tradition. A fierce Garud rises within a landscape saturated by technological apparatuses, while at its feet a human form representing AI clings tightly, attempting to assert control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260128100132_dc2c1ad4a4cefea6c6c7d02e9ed500309b7c862535247fe6451038e1d053d6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  In another work, Bhairab confronts a human embodiment of AI in a theatrical standoff, with the deity ultimately prevailing, reaffirming endurance over technological dominance. The human figures in Pradhan’s paintings are drawn from life with his friends volunteering as models, photographed and later translated onto canvas.&nbsp; “Technology has taken over our lives. Many can probably not even imagine life without it now. But, culture, too, is integral to human existence. Our life would be much different without our culture; it is a part of us,” notes the artist. Rather than framing technology as purely antagonistic, Pradhan explores coexistence, and while acknowledging its destructive potential, he affirms his belief in the power of our myths and traditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260128100132_bc831a663ca8977c39979a363a95bcae5e41cfe624d78152c546579caa3e680f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Kala Salon exhibition NT"> </figure>  Pradhan adds, “These paintings are also an archive of its time. Viewers centuries from now may read these paintings as records of the age we inhabit. While technology is important, cultural continuity must walk alongside it. Festivals must still be celebrated, oral traditions must be sustained, and our roots must be remembered, especially by future generations.” Curator Sophia L Pande says the exhibition took more than a year to put together:&nbsp; “It responds to a shifting world, seeking to capture both transformation and the quiet fear of loss. Its themes move fluidly across environment, technology, artificial intelligence, and climate change, reflecting the diverse yet interconnected practices of the artists, providing a glimpse into the evolving landscape of contemporary Nepali art.” Changing Times The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11AM-8PM

Time, transience, transition

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible.&nbsp; In the lap of Langtang lie misty meadows that are carpeted with alpine flowers during the monsoon. It was here that Gyalbu Tamang (pictured, right) spent his childhood accompanying his father Pasang Norbu to high pastures, to milk nak and make cheese. Norbu himself was taught to produce Emmentaler cheese by two Swiss experts in the 1950s. Switzerland and Nepal are marking the 70th anniversary of diplomatic ties this year, and the cheese plant in Kyangjin was one of the first the Swiss were involved in.&nbsp; Langtang had surplus milk, and the idea was to turn it into cheese to raise nutrition levels. “The Swiss were very hard-working, and were not used to the laid back attitude of Nepalis,” remembers Gyalbu Tamang, now 50. “The children in Langtang were scared of the tall blonde foreigners, but I got along with them.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221070240_dd47ceaf71a505e075f4a3628baf70161a40ebd21bcec1b1a2ebe03b28da4293.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260221070240_dd47ceaf71a505e075f4a3628baf70161a40ebd21bcec1b1a2ebe03b28da4293" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang cheese"> </figure>  Gyalbu remembers sleeping outdoors with his father, under the stars and gazing at Langtang Lirung luminescent in the moonlight. After the milk was boiled, he helped carry it down in 40 litre churns to Kyangjin for processing.&nbsp; The plant was handed over to the state-run Dairy Development Corporation (DDC). Norbu Lama retired, but cheese making was too ingrained in him. So he bought a dozen yaks and Gyalbu helped him sell the milk. At 18, Gyalbu joined the cheese plant, and 32 years later, he is still there – now manager. “I had learnt everything from my father, so it was easy for me,” Gyalbu recalls. “Trekking boomed in Langtang and there was high demand for cheese. It raised the income of farmers.” 2015 EARTHQUAKE&nbsp; But all that came crashing down just before noon on 25 April 2015 when the earthquake triggered an avalanche that buried Langtang &nbsp;village. More than 300 people, many of them trekkers, were killed. “My father was grazing yaks, and we found him five days later, thrown off by the avalanche. My mother was buried in the ruins of her home,” Gyalbu says. Fortunately, his wife and three children in Kyangjin were safe in their damaged house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221070240_7c0d512514280965aa72511100a2bda4e515c52c6e6428665dc7dd88c62c7ebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260221070240_7c0d512514280965aa72511100a2bda4e515c52c6e6428665dc7dd88c62c7ebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="882" height="661" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang cheese"> </figure>  Twenty-seven herders and 400 yaks also perished. The cheese plant was flattened. Even before the disaster, an ageing population, out-migration, and better education meant that fewer Langtangpa were interested in cheese-making. The DDC’s mismanagement also took its toll, and at Rs80 / litre, it was not feasible to herd yaks anymore. The Swiss stepped in again to help rebuild the plant on condition that the price of milk be raised. The DDC agreed to pay up to Rs110/litre depending on fat content, and that price has remained the same.&nbsp; Gyalbu Tamang was in Kathmandu this week, trying again to convince the DDC to raise the price of milk to make cheese-making a worthwhile occupation for the younger generation.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221070240_61f302b28a3051006fedba92ac1a88ffab13a1ffb3154603bfc6693aee8fca5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260221070240_61f302b28a3051006fedba92ac1a88ffab13a1ffb3154603bfc6693aee8fca5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang cheese"> </figure>  There are only three yak ranches left and the numbers of yak, nak and dzo have shrunk. In its heyday, Langtang used to produce 5,000kg of cheese per year. Today, it is down to 800kg. The cheese is sold in Kathmandu for about Rs2,000 per kg, but the plant has no savings to upgrade its 80-year-old equipment. “We are on our own, there is not much help from the government or Langtang people overseas,” laments Gyalbu. “I do not know what the future holds, but I will keep making cheese as long as there is milk, and as long as I am able.”&nbsp;

Langtang Emmentaler

This week 30 years ago, the Maoists launched their armed struggle from the rugged mountains of Rukum, attacking a police post in Athbiskot on 13 February 1996 (Editorial, page 2). Today, Rukum has been partitioned into East and West, and is an electoral battleground for the 5 March poll between the former Supreme Commander of the Maoist party Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) and his erstwhile guerrilla commander Janardan Sharma (Prabhakar).&nbsp; The Maoist revolution was all about liberating the people of districts like Rukum from poverty, oppression and feudalism. The comrades promised to end inequality, social injustice, and exclusion in an insurgency they called ‘People’s War’.&nbsp; Today, 20 years after the conflict ended with the loss of 17,000 lives, not much has changed in both parts of Rukum. A motorable road does connect the district to the rest of the country, and it is the route many people have taken to migrate out.&nbsp; In one village in Rukum West, some young men paid as much as Rs8 million to human traffickers to take them to the United States. Some reached the US, but have been deported back to Nepal. Dahal has dropped the label ‘Maoist’ from his newly minted Nepali Communist Party and is contesting from Rukum East, while Sharma split from the party and is contesting from Rukum West as a Pragatisheel Loktantrik Party candidate. Newer faces from Rastriya Swatantra Party and Ujyalo Nepal Party are also in the race. Rukum was affected by the 2023 earthquake that killed 153 people and damaged 10,000 homes in Rukum West and Jajarkot. Many health facilities and schools collapsed, and one of them was Bheri Dovan Secondary School.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_4440ee7eeb935805db344c3bd91f7ed285fc9eec6910ee0d33bfc9410fa15acd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260221020232_4440ee7eeb935805db344c3bd91f7ed285fc9eec6910ee0d33bfc9410fa15acd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>This is my school by the river, seen from above. Chitrakala, 16</figcaption> </figure>  Reconstruction has been slow, but Finland and UNICEF have built a semi-permanent transitional learning centre with a gender segregated sanitation facility.&nbsp; STORIES IN PICTURES &nbsp; The project gave digital point-and-shoot cameras to 15 students between ages 11-16 who were interested in photography to take pictures of their daily lives. Eight girls and seven boys got a three-day basic training in photography. “The reason we chose this school was because it was completely destroyed and they have quite a few children from marginalised communities,” says Sabrina Guruacharya of UNICEF. “We wanted to invest in the creative skills of children and provide the space for them to tell their own stories in pictures.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_73b47852cd98061fc6b938273c7e40dbe5b8b8d0dbd9c528c2c1d295cd1b5ad1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260221020232_73b47852cd98061fc6b938273c7e40dbe5b8b8d0dbd9c528c2c1d295cd1b5ad1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>During the busy rice-harvesting season under Kartik’s gentle sun, farmers of Chinabagar, West Rukum. Lokendra, 14 </figcaption> </figure>  The theme of the photography workshop was to reflect on how the community was rebuilding after the earthquake. But instead of photos of destruction and ruined houses, the children took pictures of their family members, neighbours, friends, beloved pets and household livestock.&nbsp; They also took pictures of bridges, roads and telecom towers, neighbours harvesting crops, family members playing. In one frame, a girl is cooking over a traditional stove even as she scrolls through her smartphone. In another, six neighbourhood children are made to pose in a line -- a heartwarming portrayal of childhood innocence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_4a880ec63b39d5781e5fd240c7892fbb2a44287525b0e5f5af7b7fb44f72147f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260221020232_4a880ec63b39d5781e5fd240c7892fbb2a44287525b0e5f5af7b7fb44f72147f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>My sister was cooking while using her phone. Srishti, 13</figcaption> </figure>  “We are looking at new ways of storytelling that are inclusive and where young people are at the heart of the story. It’s their story, it’s them narrating,” says Guruacharya. Selected photographs were exhibited at Patan Darbar Square in January, as well as in the Rukum West school itself.&nbsp; The project is a direct beneficiary of an initiative in Finland where students raise money every time they walk to school. Finnish children then donate the money to their school, which in turn helps fund education in countries like Nepal.&nbsp; In a video about the program, participating students talk about learning the basics of photography such as different image sizes and camera angles, shooting at eye level and avoiding digital zoom for better results, understanding the perspective of light and motion, rules of composition and different lighting conditions, among others.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260221020232_bd935d88f2da60a8f5d6e802934947f9871bf2f763dadc876254a8fb779951a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260221020232_bd935d88f2da60a8f5d6e802934947f9871bf2f763dadc876254a8fb779951a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1414" loading="lazy" alt="Rukum children"> <figcaption>I took this photo of my grandmother and my sister because I love my grandmother. Her age is also over 100 years and I wanted to take her picture. Birendra, 13 </figcaption> </figure>  It looks like some of the talented students are set to become content creators when they grow up, and UNICEF is now looking to replicate this in Madhes Province. The photographs taken by the children illustrate their everyday lives and concerns, which seems far away from the manifestos and stale electoral promises of candidates.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lzZkY9CvM4g?si=2QMEaRp9XTadRuu9" 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>

Rukum in the eyes of its children

Party flags and banners wave from electric poles, houses and e-rickshaws are festooned with posters. Madhes Province is in the grip of election fever, and in a tour through four of its districts, there is the sense that any efforts by mainstream political parties at reforms have come too little too late. Among the banners, the sky blue of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/new-vs-new-in-nepal"> RSP is more prominent </a>here this time, and the rallying cry across the country for new and improved leadership is echoed on the ground. “For the people around here, whatever these old leaders are saying has become just noise,” says a lassi shop operator in Janakpur, waving a dismissive hand at flags with the NC’s tree symbol across the street. In Janakpur, UML nominee Raghubir Mahaseth was barred from canvassing door-to-door. Campaign posters of the mainstream parties have been torn from walls and replaced with RSP posters.&nbsp; In Inarwari village of Rautahat in the Madhes heartland, local elected officials whose parties have been merged into the Nepali Communist Party hope to retain enough supporters this election. But not many residents say they would vote for its candidate. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SHRISTI KARKI</figcaption> </figure>  A first-time voter in Sarlahi’s Haripur is home on a semester break from medical school in Kathmandu, and is waiting excitedly for 5 March. “You can’t really say out loud whom you’re voting for around here,” he says, as he mimes ringing a bell. “It is time for someone new to be in-charge." In the highway town of Bardibas, an elderly teashop owner says that all she hears are calls for घण्टी, the RSP’s bell symbol. “After all, bells are rung in the house of gods,” she says. “It seems like the right choice.” The RSP wave sweeping the nation after the GenZ movement is seen in Madhes, and the PR ballots might reflect that, notes political analyst Tula Narayan Shah.&nbsp; “But the socio-cultural networks, organisational setup, and legacy of democratic movement of traditional parties might still give them a fighting chance on the first past the post ballot,” he says. &nbsp;“The door-to-door campaign style of candidates has always been more prominent in Madhes than elsewhere.”&nbsp; Villages like Dhankaul in Sarlahi-4 where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grand-split-in-nepal-s-grand-old-party">Gagan Thapa</a> of the Nepali Congress (NC) is running against incumbent Amresh Singh, is an NC stronghold. Singh won the election here twice before in 2013 and 2017 when he was an NC leader, and still had goodwill among NC voters when he ran and won as an independent during the 2022 election. “I voted for him twice before when he was in the NC, but he did not do anything for this or other villages. Once he is elected, he has not set foot here,” says Rajiv Yadav, a voter in Dhanakul. “The RSP will get more votes here than last time, but Gagan is sure to win. This village will vote for him.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  Madhes is in the spotlight this election because two prime ministerial candidates have focused their attention in the region. Balen Shah began his campaign in Janakpur (main picture, left) in January as a ‘Son of Madhes’, and Gagan Thapa chose Sarlahi-4 as his constituency over Kathmandu-4, from where he has been elected since 2013.&nbsp; The Madhes has always been the battleground for Nepal’s electoral politics, and candidates from here, like Krishna Prasad Bhattarai from Parsa, Pushpa Kamal Dahal from Siraha, Jhala Nath Khanal from Sarlahi, and Madhav Kumar Nepal from Rautahat, have all been prime ministers. Despite electing politicians to high office in Kathmandu, districts of Madhes have consistently ranked low in development and service delivery indicators, especially in basic healthcare and education. Socio-economic inequalities stemming from a lack of opportunities has also meant that Madhes districts have the highest rate of out-migration in the country.&nbsp; What is different this time is that the people of the province have a Madhesi prime ministerial candidate who will represent them in national politics, and the main competition ultimately will be between the NC and RSP prime ministerial candidates. Interestingly, voters seem to be looking beyond Madhes-based parties who have historically campaigned on identity and federalism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  “Leaders of Madhes parties have glorified their struggle for votes but failed to perform on good governance at local and provincial levels,” explains Tula Narayan Shah. “Now, Balen has become a PM candidate as a face of the region, and as someone who will deliver based on his work as Kathmandu mayor.” If the RSP wins, it will be governing in the absence of provincial leadership that would play a crucial mediatory role between Kathmandu and local units. On Wednesday, RSP’s Madhes province chair Mamta Sharma resigned from the party and joined the NC. There is also some underlying tension between RSP cadre loyal to Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane. “It is not prudent to predict who will win the election and whether parties will deliver on promises,” says Tula Narayan Shah. “But win or lose, there is little basis at this time to believe that the RSP will be committed to making the federal system and provinces more functional.” Voters here in the heart of the federalism movement, however, are willing to give the RSP the benefit of the doubt. &nbsp;Resident Brahma Dev in Janakpur told us: &nbsp;“The RSP, like parties that came before them, deserve a chance to prove their leadership in the next five years. If they do not deliver, we can always vote them out next time.”&nbsp; On Wednesday, NC leaders unveiled the party’s 10-point election manifesto at a large rally in Janakpur (main picture, right). Gagan Thapa began by addressing a cheering crowd in Maithili, and said the NC was reformed, adding:&nbsp; “The GenZ did not reject us, they told us to change our ways.” Also on Wednesday 800km away at the other end of the country in Dhangadi, Balen Shah, in a speech that lasted just three minutes, he said: “Don’t vote for us, give us work to do.”&nbsp;

Battleground Tarai

This is the 84th 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. Growing up, my parents encouraged me to prioritise studies. As the youngest, I always had an inner desire to be independent. My job at a travel agency in Kathmandu did not inspire me much. I wanted to strike off on my own but did not have money, and was reluctant to ask my parents because then they might have wanted to marry me off. So without telling them, I started Korean language lessons. What I had read and heard about Korea appealed to me because it was safe for women, they were treated respectfully and protected by strong laws. I wanted to temporarily migrate with the sole purpose of raising enough capital to start my own business one day. I made my passport without telling my parents. It was a hassle because they needed the consent of guardians since girls were at risk of being trafficked. I convinced them I was able to stand up for myself. I passed the Korean exam, and only then told my parents. I was in the first cohort under the Korea G2G Employment Permit System (EPS). The work there was not difficult: I trimmed, cleaned, sorted imported flower bulbs. My monthly earnings were Rs60,000 with overtime. I got engaged to my friend with 200 guests in attendance at a Lama ceremony. We had gone as friends but realised there that we were meant for each other. Later, when we returned to Nepal, we got married in a traditional ceremony.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_00a1e9f6b4c70756d1c8737e4c294cb2d3a9b73e0cd26bc9b84bc61d18644cb7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260219130232_00a1e9f6b4c70756d1c8737e4c294cb2d3a9b73e0cd26bc9b84bc61d18644cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  I stayed on in Nepal after my wedding while my husband re-migrated. We have two children, and when the younger one turned two, I was ready to go back to work. This time, as an entrepreneur. I bought the rights to an outlet of the Burger House and Crunchy Fried Chicken franchise which was neither too posh nor too shabby, reasonably priced, hygienic and with a cosy ambience. The outlet did well, and the lessons I picked up in Korea helped -- it taught me to value every second and be disciplined. I now transfer these lessons to my trainees. As a café entrepreneur no work is too small. I clean, wash dishes, make coffee, train, and run the cash register. I do it all. I have learnt the value of work. I was once contacted by the Korean Embassy. They wanted to understand what returnees in Nepal are up to. They put our stories in a book. The K-Hami project team encouraged me to share my story and inspire other Korea returnees, especially women. We created the DidiBahini network for women returnees, which we have recently registered as Sangi Nepal. There is a shared journey that binds us returnees. We know the struggle overseas. We value hard-earned money that comes with immense sacrifices, and we have learnt that hard work and dedication pays. As a restaurant entrepreneur, I often get calls from youth asking for jobs. They are under 25 and are struggling to juggle work and study. They need skills and jobs, so I started a hospitality training centre to help young people develop job ready skills. I did not think that I would get into politics, even though my grandfather was once a minister. As an entrepreneur, I can be everything the situation demands: barista, cashier, trainer, cleaner, dishwasher. And that is what politicians should also be. It is about more than power, it is a service. You have to experience hunger to solve hunger, empathise with people and their struggles. I had never seen myself as a politician, but I know that I understand people. When someone is hurting, it hurts me. People had started noticing, and I was invited to join various political parties.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_d989fc863fa8391c19abe88b153d54da3c1a4a51de3ccb7716230756e1c5a17e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260219130232_d989fc863fa8391c19abe88b153d54da3c1a4a51de3ccb7716230756e1c5a17e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  INTO POLITICS In my neighbour’s house, for example, there was no water and sewage was a problem. The prolonged inaction bothered me so I lobbied to get it fixed. This made me understand how far we can go if we serve selflessly. If we have a voice, we need to use it. Even then I did not think I would join politics, at least not directly and not for another ten years. During past elections, I used to educate people about good candidates and to think beyond parties. When I had heard that Kulman Ghising was starting a party, I trusted that he could contribute a lot based on his delivery experience. I just wanted to volunteer for his party, but ended up joining it. I realised women do not want to enter the fray, and are satisfied with proportional representation seats. Women should not hold back, or be held back. We should fight, share our vision and take action. We need to be in decision-making roles too. I wanted to see more women in Parliament. I wanted to fight direct elections and was appointed to run in Kathmandu-7. I felt proud. We don’t need to make lofty promises. Politicians do not care about the grassroots. They are stuck to their chairs. I do not have an unrealistic vision but want to help people in tangible ways. For hungry people, food is a priority. For the uneducated, it is education. For the sick, even one medicine tablet can go a long way. Health, education and jobs are my focus. I want to promote youth self-employment and decent jobs, just as I did as an entrepreneur. Being elected to power is not enough, you have to perform and deliver. Even in Kathmandu, there is poverty and hunger. It is hard to believe that some of these places exist in the capital — hard to reach places with no basic services. This hurt as well as inspired me.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260219130232_6723e3ff9b4c195c4ed13693b0d4a1066f37462e14fbdb22026c26ce10710072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260219130232_6723e3ff9b4c195c4ed13693b0d4a1066f37462e14fbdb22026c26ce10710072" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Bimala Lama NT"></figure>  If I am elected to Parliament, I will serve selflessly. As a returnee with a voice and the possibility to make policies and laws, I want to encourage people overseas to come back with whatever savings and learning they have and contribute to the country. It may not be easy, but it will be worth it. I myself may not have faced challenges overseas, but there are many who do not have a positive experience abroad, I will raise their concerns. I will also continue to encourage other women to do more. As a businesswoman, a politician and a mother I will erase any doubts they have about their capabilities. I will continue to be that source of courage. In Kathmandu-7, there are 29 candidates, I am the only female. While campaigning, people often ask me if I have money. When I say I don’t, they ask how I expect to fight an election. Through my idealism, I tell them. People also ask me if I am a proportional representation candidate. That is the first impression voters have of women candidates. When I tell them I am contesting directly, many are surprised. There are challenges but I like challenges. I like a fight. There will be winners and losers, that is part of the game. All I want to do is inspire fellow women and youth. My husband has whole-heartedly supported my business and political journey. My children are curious what will happen if I win. Even before I stood as a candidate, they knew their mother was a fearless leader. They now recognise the green Ujyalo Nepal Party banners. Looking at my children makes me even more committed to shape the future of the next generations of Nepalis. This is what got me into politics in the first place: to serve.

Migrant>returnee>entrepreneur>politician

Nepal showed inconsistent performance at the T20 World Cup 2026 in Mumbai with flashes of brilliance, but ultimately snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rhinos-hit-the-ground-running">near-win against England</a>, a test cricket team by an associate country, in the opening game showed promise and suggested that Nepal’s cricket was on the cusp of glory. The Nepal Premier League and a flawless performance in the qualifiers had raised hopes that perhaps the Rhinos could progress out of the group stage. However, subsequent losses against newcomers Italy and the West Indies were harsh reality checks about the true state of the game: there is a lot of catching up to do in the present, and structural changes to put in place to win big in the future. Head Coach Stuart Law summed it all up quite harshly: “To go from that high to then go to an extreme low four days later, that’s not showing mental toughness.” He was worried about the distraction of social media and lack of focus among players: “When you’re in cricket, do your cricket. It’s a difficult one for me because I’m a social media dinosaur, I don’t understand it. You don’t have to keep showing your face if we’re winning games.” Finally a late-night win against Scotland on Tuesday redeemed some of Nepal’s pride. A strong opening partnership, yet another rugged Dipendra Singh Airee innings and Sompal Kami’s vindictive 3 for 25 helped Nepal beat Scotland in their last group game at the T20 World Cup.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  There was nothing riding on the game but honour, it means at least that Nepal do not crash out on zero. The game ebbed and flowed. Scotland started well and looked set to score 200 before collapsing in the end at 170. The Nepal batting effort also started out well, but in the middle overs after some wickets had fallen, it looked like the team was whimpering out again. Boundaries dried up, the run rate creeped up to almost 13, before Airee and Jha woke up and took charge and got to 171 with a few balls to spare. The dhaka topi crowd in the stands loved it. A big part of the reason Nepal’s performance was so much better against England than in the other games was the mentality going in. Against England, Nepal were clear underdogs and could play freely. Even a nasty defeat would have been forgiven. Against newcomers Italy, these roles were flipped. Fans and perhaps the players underestimated Italy, a nation much better known for its football culture. But it had put together a smart, experienced team made up of Italian cricketers with South African, Australian, English, Indian, Pakistani and Sri Lankan heritage. And Nepal may have won a series against West Indies last year, but against the full strength Caribbean squad they were easily beaten.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  Another key difference is that Nepal was batting second against England. Against Italy and the West Indies, having to set a target rather than chase it, there was miserable batting failure. The front of the order — openers Kushal Bhurtel and Aasif Sheikh, captain Rohit Poudel — did not pace themselves well. They started much too slow, not able to take advantage of the first six powerplay overs. Airee’s 58 and Sompal Kami’s 26 off 11 against the West Indies were the only innings of any note. The middle order of Bam, Jha, Aarif Sheikh was not much better. Nepal really struggled with the ball too in that game, taking the one wicket against the West Indies and none against Italy. Of course, it is a huge ask of your bowling attack to defend anything below 150 in the modern T20 game. There were questionable tactical choices. Early wickets are essential when defending a low score. But key wicket taker Sandeep Lamichhane was not brought on until the middle overs, when the opponents had made too many runs to feel any fear. So they took him on and he had a really poor tournament, going for a lot of runs.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  To captain Poudel’s credit, he acknowledged the bad showing against Italy: “It was not a 123 all-out wicket. We are professionals and not turning up for the game was disappointing.” Coach Law thinks that Nepal is going to get to the next step. If the team is ambitious, and hopes to compete at the elite level, then it cannot celebrate a loss against England. If it wants to win consistently, it has to shed the ‘Cardiac Kids’ nickname. It is better to win than to be fun to watch but lose. The T20 game is so brisk and so it is often won in the margins. Good catching and fielding can create momentum and save a team the 5, 10 runs that win the game. Nepal were uncharacteristically poor in the field against Italy and West Indies, often fumbling and leaking boundaries. Airee didn’t get any of his usual run-outs either. Nepal lost cheap wickets through run-outs and stumpings. All these unforced errors right through the match add up on the scoreboard.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  SKILL SET Mentality is important but sport performance ultimately comes down to skill. There looked to be a large gap, and perhaps one of the reasons is because the Nepal team is so full of all-rounders. Airee’s two-way performance is undeniable, but Bhurtel, Paudel and Karan KC do plenty of both too and they do not do it super well very often. If the team wants to get consistent, it must have consistent performers with the bat and ball. That calls for some of these players to focus completely on one skill over the other. You do not see openers bowling so much in the top teams as Bhurtel does. The main reason for this skill gap, and one of the hardest parts about being an associate nation, is how little cricket the members of the team play compared to the test nations. Said Stuart Law: “The longer format is where you learn how to play the game. The shorter formats are where you have your fun. We need some sort of multi-day games.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  The contrast in experience showed during the Italy game. Most of the members of the Italy team were well into their thirties, had played a high volume of domestic cricket and were more self-assured. So, while the young Nepali team were more athletic, they seemed to lack the skill and experience to know what to do when things were going wrong. The Italians seemed to go about their game with a lot more self assurance. In the long run, this means setting up grassroot structures, getting kids into formal training when young, and setting up a longer format domestic league. In the short term, CAAN could organise frequent series with other associate nations, and individual athletes could go play long form club cricket abroad. Surely some team in the world has to have a spot for a player like Airee, for example. It has been Airee’s tournament. Scores of 44 v England, 58 v West Indies, and now a match-winning 50 against Scotland that gives the travelling Nepali support something to cheer for. The tournament could have been a lot more, but it is wholesome to end on a win.

Nepal goes in and out of T20

This is the 84th 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. A foreign country called me, Nepal told me to leave Ambar Bahadur BK I am headed to Dubai. Prior to this, I have worked in Qatar, Malaysia, Saudi and now I am re-migrating. My family members have all voted, but I never got a chance to vote myself. I have never seen a voting booth. Because I have always been away during elections. &nbsp; My ticket is already issued. A foreign country called me, Nepal told me to leave and not be around on election day. Nepal is not changing its face, but we migrants change the face of other people’s countries. We are leaving, but when we return we want Nepal to be how we have imagined it to be – as developed as the countries we work in. That would make us happy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070236_e11576fa6934131beedda091ffd7bb22dada6c99c428d4812937d79c7037b22e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260216070236_e11576fa6934131beedda091ffd7bb22dada6c99c428d4812937d79c7037b22e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  What more can I say? I am going abroad again. I will again have to work hard. This is not a choice, it is a compulsion. Why would we leave the country if there were jobs in Nepal, if we got paid on time for work we complete? We work for a month and wait almost a year for the salary. A labourer earns Rs21,000 and a carpenter Rs28,000 in Nepal. But even for that we are made to wait. There are no savings. We leave so we can save. Recruiters and their agents cheat us. We rely on them because we are unable find the jobs ourselves. We have little education but even the educated are cheated. We are the sons of poor fellow-Nepalis. We are not from millionaire families. We migrate so we can support our families. I hope some day we Nepalis can fly out as tourists and not migrant workers. &nbsp;That will be the day when we can make enough money with pride in Nepal so we can go overseas for a holiday. As migrant workers abroad, we work hard. The tiredness after a long day’s work is worth it when we get our salary promptly every month. That money goes back home to raise our children. I am hoping good luck will follow me this time and my dreams will come true. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-nepali-vote-bank">Overseas Nepali vote bank</a>, Diaspora Diaries I have never voted Shreejana Lama  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_71abdf3ca5d51b9b2f43290f646946f0c7b59ef3a2b57444e9562d0e72be02ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260216070240_71abdf3ca5d51b9b2f43290f646946f0c7b59ef3a2b57444e9562d0e72be02ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Sindhupalchok, headed to Cyprus because there are no jobs in Nepal. Prior to this, I was in Jordan. I did not vote in the past because I was too young, but even though I am now of &nbsp;voting age I have to migrate just as election day approaches. I feel sad about it. I hope the new government will work to create meaningful jobs at home so we do not have to leave. There are jobs in Nepal but the pay is not enough even for rent and food. For us it is important to get jobs without paying high fees because we are leaving precisely because we do not have that kind of money. Migration makes sense if you learn the language and have skills, or else it will not be enough overseas either. It would also be good if migrants got jobs with salaries that are promised. In many cases, they find out the jobs were not what were promised by recruiters. If we face any problem overseas, the Nepali recruiter should be responsible and the government should help us. I am going to Cyprus for two years. When I am back in two years, I hope there are jobs in Nepal so I do not have to go off again. I also hope Nepal is cleaner. What will we gain by voting? Hira Kaji Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_833650f21e3922c713f9207129c804ddffc2afd6ee4b917e453ee7c4256cd265.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260216070240_833650f21e3922c713f9207129c804ddffc2afd6ee4b917e453ee7c4256cd265" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Sindhupalchok, and am headed to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/our-migrant-sons">Malaysia</a>. Prior to this, I had gone to Dubai but it did not work out and I returned after 7 months. I then re-migrated to Malaysia and was home for a vacation. I migrate because there are no jobs in Nepal. At least in an overseas job you can save some money. I have to take care of my family. All responsibilities are on my shoulders, so I have to go. I have voted once in the past during elections. There was no point to it. For people like us, votes don’t matter. It is for party cadres, not for simple people like us. There are no jobs, there is nothing. Elections would have mattered if there were good people to vote for. Let us see how the new candidates do. My two month vacation is over, but I have to fly out just before election day. The new government should create jobs so people like us do not have to migrate. &nbsp;We are not even asking for much, jobs that pay up to Rs20,000 would be good enough for people like us. The government should help Nepalis stranded overseas, their voices should be heard. When I come home to Nepal next, I hope good roads will have reached remote places in Nepal and everyone has basic service. I hope we will have factories and jobs, good health posts in remote areas so people don’t have to go to the cities. I can’t afford to wait for elections Chandra Bahadur Sunar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_32a29e167ac6f2fcac3613bbc0b72273a69f8e8d75d617b62b5e55c8c591811c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260216070240_32a29e167ac6f2fcac3613bbc0b72273a69f8e8d75d617b62b5e55c8c591811c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I have been living in Bahrain for eight years, and before this I worked in Saudi and India. I never had a chance to vote. My three-month vacation is over. I have to resume work and could not wait for the election. Do I vote or do I work to pay my children’s school fees? How will I pay for household expenses in Nepal if I stayed to vote? I could not afford to wait. The new government has to address unemployment so that people can stay in Nepal. There are no jobs, expenses are high. Education and health should also be made affordable and accessible. The government can negotiate for better salaries for its citizens abroad. It should also increase to keep up with inflation. I will come back in 2-3 years. When I return I hope it will not take me 17 hours to get to Kathmandu from Nepalganj. Roads should improve, there should be jobs for the jobless, education for the uneducated. That’s all, isn’t it? My prayer for Nepal Shyam Bahadur Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070244_ca58e3c9214fc91275ad85e354eb5d888c81edf02764bd49826acd423c049d27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260216070244_ca58e3c9214fc91275ad85e354eb5d888c81edf02764bd49826acd423c049d27" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Kavre. I am headed to Malaysia. I have worked in Malaysia before after which I went to Saudi Arabia for three years. Foreign employment has worked for me so far. I have voted once. This time, I could not wait for election day since my visa arrived. I will vote in future elections once I am back. I hope the new government can create an environment so we do not have to leave. If we could work in Nepal, we would be close to our families and happy. The new government should focus on jobs. And for those of us who migrate, the government should prioritise <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/valuing-moral-migration">free visa and free ticket jobs</a> so that migration is affordable and we can save. At the moment, no matter which recruiter we go to, they say it is free, but there is always a huge fee. The government should stop this malpractice. When I come home in a few years, I hope to see a new Nepal that has a strong government. I want to see reforms and big changes. There are too many protests and much instability. Even small issues lead to demonstrations, and lives are lost. I pray that this does not happen again. That is my prayer for Nepal.

Nepal’s voters are migrating

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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>

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