The Kangchenjunga Trek in far-eastern Nepal is a remote and less-crowded adventure that offers raw wilderness, diverse cultures, and breathtaking terrain below the world’s third highest mountain. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) grabbed the world’s attention before Mt Everest ever did because its imposing rampart dominated the northern horizon from Darjeeling, the summer refuge for the British in India. The Kangchenjunga massif is more a mountain range rather than a peak, its high ridge stretching 25km from Nepal to Sikkim.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c" data-rendition-name="original" width="938" height="726" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga trail map"></figure>  Sikkim considers the mountain sacred, and has banned mountaineering expeditions. But the various prominences of Kangchenjunga are increasingly popular for climbers via the north face in Nepal. For non-mountaineers, even the Kangchenjunga trek can be arduous, especially in winter. It is one of the last pure wilderness areas in Nepal, traversing sparsely populated valleys that are rich in biodiversity because of the high annual rainfall. Even when Nepal was a forbidden land, among the first foreign visitors was British botanist J D Hooker who explored the Nepal side of Kangchenjunga in 1850 to collect plant samples. The peak was first climbed in 1955, two years after the first ascent of Mt Everest.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The establishment of Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in September 2006 was accompanied by tragedy when 24 people, including Nepal’s nature preservation pioneers were killed in a helicopter crash. The Conservation Area is now the only one managed completely by the local indigenous people. It has 70 varieties of orchids, 30 rhododendron types, and 15 out of 28 endemic plants of Nepal. Kangchenjunga still gets very few of the 200,000 foreign trekkers who visit Nepal every year, but improved road access in recent years is making it more popular. Trekkers have a choice of exploring the North Base Camp (Pangpema) or the South Base Camp (Yalung Glacier), or combine both for the full Kangchenjunga Circuit (map). This trek is considered strenuous, with long walking days, high altitude, and tea house accommodation that is much more basic than the Everest or Annapurna regions. Trekkers have to be fit and with prior hiking experience. Most teams take tents and camp, and carry most of their food.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  FULL CIRCUIT Because the region is restricted, trekkers must obtain a permit and be accompanied by a licensed guide. A full circuit can take three weeks, while doing only the North or South Base Camps will take two weeks, including flying from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur and jeep to Taplejung or a rough trail to Hellok. The lower forested stretches are teeming with wildlife, and this is red panda and snow leopard country. The streams and ponds have amphibians and reptiles, some of which have not yet even been classified. The route also passes the homelands of the Limbu, Rai and Tibetan communities with the local culture and architecture more intact than in most other mountain areas of Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The best seasons to trek are spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November). There are fewer trekkers and climbers in winter, and many of the birds and wildlife have migrated down to warmer climes. Despite its beauty, trekkers should be prepared for challenges like long distances between villages, unpredictable weather, and limited emergency rescue options due to the remoteness of the area — all even more challenging in winter. Norbu Lama is an international hiking guide with www.dolpocaravantreks.com and just returned after leading a trek to Kangchenjunga Base Camps.

Kangchenjunga in winter

Bottom

The International Labour Organisation and the Social Security Fund (SSF) are partnering to extend coverage to informal workers and the self-employed. Some 2.7 million Nepalis are currently enrolled in the SSF, most of them are migrant workers, and this does not include the informal sector where 86% of Nepalis work. "The goal of the campaign is to leave no worker behind," said ILO's Nepal Director Numan Özcan.

ILO+SSF

Turkish Airlines has started flights to Cambodian capital Phnom Penh, making it the seventh country in Southeast Asia to be served by the Turkish flag carrier and 11th city in the region. Flights will operate three times a week, departing from Istanbul at $699 on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, and returning at $679 on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. “Adding Cambodia as our 132nd country to our unparalleled network will present new opportunities for both tourism and business. As the only European carrier flying to this destination, we will further solidify our leadership in the region,” said Turkish Airlines CEO Bilal Ekşi.

Turkish to Cambodia

Global IME and Floriculture Association Nepal signed an agreement for greenhouse loans for flower farmers. The initiative hopes to increase flower production, create sustainable business models, and promote the use of climate-friendly technologies and greenhouses.

Flower farmers

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

For the first time in decades, Nepal’s political structure is on the cusp of a major transition as the monopoly of the legacy parties is being tested by emerging political forces.
Whatever the outcome of the 5 March elections, the age of the Oli-Deuba-Dahal triumvirate will have to struggle to stay relevant in the post-GenZ phase.&nbsp;
As Nepal’s milestone year 2025 came to a close, the three leaders are mounting a rearguard action to retain supremacy within their own parties, and in the wider polity for supremacy. But they do not realise that it is a lost cause — history has moved on.
GenZ youth were not behind the mayhem and arson of 9 September that brought down the UML-NC coalition, but the regime change that followed it bears their name. The new and alternative parties aim to carry their brand forward.
Another troika is emerging: that of RSP chair Rabi Lamichhane, Kulman Ghising of the Ujyalo Nepal Party and Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah. Talks among the three for some kind of electoral togetherness have sent tremors across the established parties.
Freshly released from prison on bail last week, Lamichhane was welcomed back to his party as the chair with open arms even though his reputation took a hit after he made a jailbreak during the September protest.&nbsp;
“People really want change, and any change will do,” notes public policy expert Ashutosh Tiwari. “It’s not that Kulman, Balen, and Rabi will present a superior alternative, it’s just that they will present an alternative, which, at this time, is more than enough—it is much, much better than having forever having Deuba, Oli and Prachanda in governance forever.”&nbsp;
Still, news of a potential partnership between the three must have come as a welcome new year message for Prime Minister Sushila Karki who has been under pressure from both GenZ factions and the UML-NC to put off elections for differing reasons.
Karki does not want anything to dim chances of polls, so it is looking unlikely that the Judicial Inquiry Commission formed to investigate the 8 September massacre and the destruction the next day will be naming names anytime soon.
Former PM K P Oli has shown no contrition for the state violence, and defied summons from the commission saying he would rather be shot than sit for cross-questioning.
The chances of the UML-NC strategy of reinstating the House and forming an all-party government is now looking slimmer, which is why they are now working on finalising the ticket list of candidates.
Some GenZ figures like Sudan Gurung also want the elections postponed (even if it means House reinstatement) perhaps because they need time to pull together their own party. But Gurung also seems inclined to support a partnership between Lamichhane, Shah, and Ghising.
Others like the GenZ Front and the GenZ Movement Alliance are for elections, while some youth have joined new alternative parties or are shopping for parties to join.
There is also wariness among some youth about the possible backing of the RSP for Balen Shah as a PM candidate. The RSP may feel it can piggyback on the mayor’s popularity and tempt him with a leadership role in case Lamichhane is barred from contesting.
Youth reservations are not unfounded. Any partnership between leaders like Lamichhane and Shah must not (just) be based on political opportunism, but a shared platform of good governance and service delivery.&nbsp;
They must put their egos aside and temper their populist, divisive rhetoric — exactly the kind of political culture that they have been trying to change.&nbsp;
The elephants in the room are Nepal’s two neighbours and the United States. The Chinese and American ambassadors have been recalled, and the Indian ambassador has medical issues. The Trump-Modi falling out could already be having an impact, as seen in the violence in Bangladesh, with Washington no longer regarding New Delhi as a regional hegemony.
Beijing appears especially wary of the interim government and the direction it is going. Aside from its suspicions of pro-Tibet antecedents of some GenZ figures, it has also taken umbrage at Chinese entities being dragged into the Pokhara airport payoff scandal.&nbsp;
New Delhi, meanwhile, has been cosying up to the Sushila Karki administration, throwing its weight behind the March polls. In 2026, a lot will depend on the next pro-Trump US ambassador in Kathmandu.
The September movement will have meant nothing if we elect the same people who have led Nepal to democratic decline over the last three decades. However, Nepali voters in March will not just be swayed by changing the structure of politics, but also its culture.&nbsp;
‘Nepal does not need to search for perfect leaders, it needs institutions capable of handling imperfect ones,’ wrote Alok K Bohara, at the University of New Mexico, in a recent blog post arguing that Nepal needs an ‘absorbent democracy’ with institutions designed to withstand governance failure without collapsing.&nbsp;
Bohara continued: ‘The task is to rally around a civic campaign to design institutional architecture that can absorb failure, constrain abuse, and correct deviation. Let the system take care of behavior, rather than hoping that behavior will take care of the system.’
&nbsp;Shristi Karki

70 days, and counting

This is the first instalment of our new series Nepal Made, where we profile world-class Nepali products and the people behind them. The Himalaya is the home to Ayurveda, the preventive and curative medicinal practice that relies on the tremendous diversity of plant life. This is where Hanuman is said to have come to find a specific rare herb when Ram was wounded in battle. When he could not find it, he tore off a whole mountain and hauled it down to Lanka. Since then, herbal medicines and care products have been steadily modernised in India and Nepal. Now, one Kathmandu-based company, Herveda, is going global with an all-natural skincare brand that blends traditional knowledge of medicinal plants with modern technology. Originally a Sanskrit word, Ayurveda literally means ‘the science of life’ and promotes physical and mental wellbeing through a holistic knowledge system that is 4,000 years old. Ayurvedic products have gotten more popular as global demand rises for all-natural, chemical-free cosmetic and wellness products, instead of wasteful fast fashion and beauty trends. Herveda was founded by Prativa Pandey, a scientist-entrepreneur and mother of two. She did her PhD in nanotechnology chemistry from Northwestern University in the United States and returned to Nepal in 2015 after the earthquake, staying back to explore the market and launch her brand.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_b699e74ee82333951b99b22648705dc916deb8eef3d425c77c1e2f3b1058a64d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251218141216_b699e74ee82333951b99b22648705dc916deb8eef3d425c77c1e2f3b1058a64d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  “I wanted to do something in Nepal, but didn’t want to be a doctor or engineer,” says Pandey at the elegant Herveda showroom in Jhamsikhel. “Whatever knowledge that I had gathered, I wanted to spread it in my own country.” Nepal is rich in traditional medicinal herbs and Ayurvedic plants, but proper utilisation and mobilisation has always been lagging. Most of the benefits are reaped by large companies and not local farmers. Pandey wanted to change that. To ensure that it gives back to the community, Herveda collaborates with farmers and local traders for fair trade. “I have always been fascinated by the medicinal herbs found in Nepal, and wanted to create high value products with them. It was a way to combine valuable indigenous knowledge with my academic research background,” adds Pandey. “I did not require a huge investment, just a proper marketing strategy.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_350f6eb1511523ea54a8aba468f20a7dffcb5def3fade4dcced30324417f83bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251218141216_350f6eb1511523ea54a8aba468f20a7dffcb5def3fade4dcced30324417f83bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  According to the Trade and Promotion Center under the Ministry of Industry, Nepal’s import of cosmetic products is increasing every year, driven by demand from a younger population. These younger customers are also more conscious about the products they use. For brands like Herveda, it is important that customers engage in wellness and skincare in an ethical and sustainable manner. Apart from being all natural, Herveda’s flagship store in Jhamsikhel has a reuse box where consumers can drop used bottles, which are then recycled. The store also displays products from 35 local businesses. Pandey believes that Nepali brands should cross-promote and complement each other: “Rather than competing, I believe we should support each other. 1+1 can be 11, and not two.” Effectiveness and functionality hold great importance for Herveda. which employs 25 scientists to develop and lab test its products at its research institute. Currently, there are products ranging from Rs400-2,000, which include lip balms, serums, and essential oils. A signature product is the Berry Boost Radiance Mask, which contains Spikenard (Jatamansi), Ashwagandha, Orange Peel, and Rhododendron.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_7ec1104e0dd63db2fbbfe666034b468fe5b7e6876fde8b5446cb9d9fe27566cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251218141216_7ec1104e0dd63db2fbbfe666034b468fe5b7e6876fde8b5446cb9d9fe27566cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  Herveda exports to the United States and plans to expand to China and Europe. The products get a 50-100% markup in the international market. The company recently received a grant from UKAid to expand the market as well as build capacity to scale up. It has partnered with Agriplayer software to help to develop QR codes on its products, which consumers will be able to scan to track the product sources and evaluate pricing. Nepal lags behind in rules and regulations, and the lack of monitoring has allowed low quality cosmetic products to penetrate into the market. Herveda has got an international certification from USFTA, which is important for its foray into the export market. “For the cosmetic industry to scale up, there should be a central testing facility that is well equipped and meets international standards. Additionally, export should be made easy,” adds Pandey. “If there are too many barriers to entry, no one will be willing to invest.”

Looking good by doing good

Prime Minister Juddha Shamsher Rana built the NJJR probably to transport logs cut on his forested birta land north of Janakpur to sell in India. The 2’6” narrow-gauge railway extended north from Jaynagar, India 29km to Janakpur and another 22km to Bhutaha/Bijalpura, cost 680,000 Indian rupees to build, and opened for business December 1937. The Nepali engineer in charge of construction was Capt Tilak Bahadur Rayamajhi, who in 1908 was one of the first Nepalis to receive a civil engineering degree in India.&nbsp; After 1950, the line from Janakpur to Bhutaha had little commercial value and was out of service. Until the late 1970s, there were no proper motorable roads connecting Dhanusha and Mahottari Districts with India. The NJJR was the only transportation alternative for people who had to otherwise go on foot, bicycle or ox carts to India.&nbsp; The NJJR also played an important role in religious tourism, as hundreds of thousands Indian pilgrims visited Janakpur annually to participate in the Bibaha Panchami, Rama Navami, and Janaki Navami. For the Bihari peasant bound for Janaki Mandir in 1955, sitting on the roof of a slow-moving train was a luxury compared to trudging 29km on foot from the Indian border. The first manager of the NJJR in Janakpur was Lt Hem Bahadur Gadtaula-Chhetri. The general manager from 1942-58 was Rekha Bahadur Rayamajhi of Bhojpur, posted at the railway’s main office at Jaynagar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071140_971118917423dec021d89591fe5fef4f7218698595773f6006b4d50c5c57cf94.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251106071140_971118917423dec021d89591fe5fef4f7218698595773f6006b4d50c5c57cf94" data-rendition-name="original" width="1014" height="680" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR Dan Edwards NT"> <figcaption>A steam train excursion for foreigners in 1999. The last steam excursion on the Janakpur Railway ran in 2006. Photo: GORDON EDGAR</figcaption> </figure>  Rama and Seeta, the railway’s first two appropriately named locomotives, were built in Berlin in 1936. In view of the rising power of Adolf Hitler’s Germany at that time, was Prime Minister Juddha trying to cultivate the Third Reich in hopes of reducing Nepal’s virtually total dependence on British India?&nbsp; In 1939 Adolf Hitler gifted a Mercedes-Benz 230 Pullman Landaulet to Juddha as a way to convince him not to let the British use their Gurkha regiments against Germany in World War II. The car had to be disassembled and carried over the mountains to Kathmandu and reassembled.&nbsp; The Nepali Congress-led campaign against Rana rule received considerable support in Janakpur and the eastern Tarai. In December 1951, King Tribhuvan rode the NJJR from Jaynagar to Janakpur, and thousands thronged to catch sight of a king of whom they had heard but never seen. As operations on the Nepali Government Railway came to an end, its European-made engines were transferred to the NJJR. King Mahendra ordered two more locomotives named Chandra and Surya for the NJJR in 1962. They were built in Leeds and traveled from Liverpool to Calcutta to Jaynagar to begin their service.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071140_55e4b768ef0ae7682dec8092169bbedc070656d46d9d0a80039fd960a23ae335.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251106071140_55e4b768ef0ae7682dec8092169bbedc070656d46d9d0a80039fd960a23ae335" data-rendition-name="original" width="2144" height="1399" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR Dan Edwards NT"> <figcaption>Inside the Nepal Janakpur Jayanagar Railway workshop at Khajuri. By the early 2000s, management was unable to control rising payroll and administrative costs nor secure adequate funds for the railway. Photo: GEOFF WARREN</figcaption> </figure>  The NJJR was renamed Janakpur Railway (JR) in 1965 and became the Nepal Railway Company in 2004. Unlike most government-owned enterprises in Nepal of that era, the JR and Nepal Government Railway operated at a profit for many years. In 1947, its total income was 225,000 Indian rupees, with a profit exceeding 100,000 rupees.&nbsp; In FY1974/75, the railway had revenues of 2.6 million rupees and a profit of 443,000 rupees. It is unclear if depreciation expenses were accounted for. Only from the mid-1980s did the railway begin to lose money. The NJJR did a booming passenger business. Ridership increased from 197,000 in 1960/61 to 1.4 million in 1977/78. Revenue increased from 770,000 rupees in 1966/67 to 2.6 million rupees in 1974/75. Yet warning signs appeared in the 1970s that the railway was living on borrowed time.&nbsp; &nbsp;A foreign consultant conducted a comprehensive study of the railway in 1975 and concluded that ‘the entire railway is very old and worn out, and unless a total rehabilitation’ of the railway was undertaken, it would ‘be forced to close in a very short time’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071140_240ed714ee4cb369005439a3fb982d6142fd028e7cf6b0c0338519a8abc6afd4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251106071140_240ed714ee4cb369005439a3fb982d6142fd028e7cf6b0c0338519a8abc6afd4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1387" height="784" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR Dan Edwards NT"> <figcaption>A second class ticket issued in 2004 costing Rs7.25 between Janakpurdham to Jaynagar. Photo: FUZZ JORDAN</figcaption> </figure>  CHUGGING ALONG An investment of two million rupees resulted in some improvements between 1976 and 1979 but rolling stock and most infrastructure were neglected for another 15 years. Yet somehow the JR’s trains kept chugging along for the next 42 years, often late, with service frequently suspended due to floods.&nbsp; Nearly every year, monsoon rains swept away some of the 135 bridges and tracks and embankments. An RSS News Agency bulletin in August 1975 noted that parts of Janakpur were ‘under 2.5 feet of water’, and the railway tracks near Khajuri were covered by four feet of water.&nbsp; The Jaynagar line was damaged in many places by the swollen Jaladi, Kamala and Jamuni Rivers. Trains to Bijalpura were suspended. For each week railway service was suspended a loss of 75,000 rupees resulted.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251108131132_4a189fa9999b50037f1774b183e62e2caad6177f594ba57a28d93bd674644163.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251108131132_4a189fa9999b50037f1774b183e62e2caad6177f594ba57a28d93bd674644163" data-rendition-name="original" width="1202" height="770" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR MAP"> </figure>  There were also accidents. Trains made only two or three roundtrips daily between Jaynagar and Janakpur and ran at slow speeds, so there were few passenger fatalities, but there were frequent derailments due to the worn rails and overloaded carriages. A RSS report in 1976 said a train derailed near Mahinathpur, and some passengers riding on the roof fell off and were injured. ‘Such accidents occur because the coaches are not regularly maintained and repaired. The speed of the train has been reduced from 12 to 8 miles per hour, since the old and rickety coaches rattle and sway from side to side if driven too fast. The trains take an incredible 4 to 5 hours to cover 28 kilometres,’ the report noted. Gangs of dacoits occasionally boarded trains and robbed passengers. Another RSS report in December 1972 said ‘Six dacoits armed with guns and revolvers looted 13 railway passengers travelling from Janakpurdham to Jaynagar [last] Sunday. The [loot] included wrist watches, gold rings, currency notes and other paraphernalia of the passengers…The dacoits raided third-class bogie number 2 soon after the train started from Khajuri station. The dacoits after plundering the passengers jumped down from the running train about two miles from the Nepal-India border [and fled into India.]’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071140_de60de1d7fdd0a9d29f19440ed68d773f754c10ef01a8c7e3385097eab6a8419.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251106071140_de60de1d7fdd0a9d29f19440ed68d773f754c10ef01a8c7e3385097eab6a8419" data-rendition-name="original" width="1498" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR Dan Edwards NT"> <figcaption>Narrow-gauge tracks in Jayanagar in India going north toward Nepal. Photo: FUZZ JORDAN</figcaption> </figure>  Strikes and political protests also stopped the train from time to time. From the early 2000s Maoist and Tarai-based groups enforced stoppages with threats and intimidation that closed schools, shops, government offices, and brought transport services to a halt. Six minor political parties organised a strike in Janakpur in May 2001. Agitators stopped a train near Janakpur and pelted it with stones, breaking windows and injuring the driver. The railway came to a standstill in May 2004 after Maoists set fire to the Mahinathpur station. During February-March 2006, the Maoists obstructed rail service six times. A cylinder bomb exploded inside a train near Parbaha station in May 2009 injuring 30 passengers. Between 1993-2003, the railway had nine general managers who had influence with Kathmandu’s political and bureaucratic elites, but none of whom knew much about railways. Management was unable to control rising payroll and administrative costs nor secure adequate funds for the railway.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071140_df754214acd19eaab3b56ceaa0d96f0b66f9f0f8fd29fb4a533d860f627f483f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251106071140_df754214acd19eaab3b56ceaa0d96f0b66f9f0f8fd29fb4a533d860f627f483f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1140" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR Dan Edwards NT"> <figcaption>Coal was unavailable, so Seetaa-Ram, the railway’s first two locomotives, burnt wood for fuel. Photo: BASIL ROBERTS</figcaption> </figure>  Revenue ‘leakage’ was significant, as perhaps twenty percent of the passengers rode without tickets. Railway staff was bloated, in 1996 there were 340 on the payroll, many of them with political connections who needed jobs. Safety measures for railway operations were non-existent.&nbsp; There were no performance reviews, no criteria for promotion, and no training opportunities for workers to improve their skills. But the locals continued to ride their beloved railway. For 56 years, the Janakpur Railway received no foreign assistance, not even one rupee of foreign aid. That changed in 1994 when the Indian government provided two used diesel locomotives and 12 used coaches. Two years later, India supplied two more engines and 12 more coaches and promised some upgrades.&nbsp; This gave the railway a new lease on life, but the road network in the eastern Tarai had expanded,making the railway redundant. It also did not connect with the East-West Highway, the major transportation artery across the Tarai, nor could it seamlessly interconnect with India’s broad-gauge rail network at Jaynagar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251106071140_7a52a3c5a3fe4e6320135d90632dcfcee6085a32637a3f71e1e644c5e8d3b19f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251106071140_7a52a3c5a3fe4e6320135d90632dcfcee6085a32637a3f71e1e644c5e8d3b19f" data-rendition-name="original" width="3239" height="1429" loading="lazy" alt="NJJR Dan Edwards NT"> <figcaption>Pashupati, Nepal's first locomotive, in retirement at Khajuri in 1996. Photo: FUZZ JORDAN</figcaption> </figure>  The railway carried no goods, all cargo traffic migrated to trucks. During the 1980s and 1990s, British and European train spotters traveled to India to ride its few remaining steam locomotives, including those of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway. Some took a side trip to Jaynagar where they, without Nepal visas, were thrilled to ride a train to Janakpur without encountering a border check post or immigration officials. Other visa-complying tour groups arranged steam trains for 60,000 rupees or more.&nbsp; The last steam excursion ran in 2006, and after that, foreign interest in the railway evaporated. Cascading financial losses and government indifference coupled with irregular, unreliable service finished on the Janakpur Railway.&nbsp; Seventy-six years of remarkable narrow-gauge railroading in Nepal ended not with a bang but a whimper on January 20, 2014. Sic transit gloria. Dan Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. This is the third instalment in a new limited series in Nepali Times on the historic transportation infrastructures of Nepal.

The saga of Nepal Jaynagar-Janakpur Railway

Featured videos

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

How much ice must melt before we act?

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

The Himalaya is not fragile

At the opening plenary of COP30, which stands for the convolutedly named 30th Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), in Belém on Tuesday, Nepal brought up the threats to the Himalayan watershed. Nepal’s delegate Rajendra Prasad Mishra, Secretary at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, also spoke on behalf of Bhutan and Bangladesh after the three countries formally called for tripling grant-based adaptation financing from 2015 levels to at least $120 billion per year by 2030, and to ensure a more simplified, scaled-up access to finance their National Determined Contributions (NDCs) to reduce emissions and adapt to climate impacts. “Bhutan has already graduated from Least Developed Country (LDC) status, while Bangladesh and Nepal are in the process of graduation,” said Mishra. “Graduation reflects development progress, but does not reduce our climate vulnerability nor the scale of support required to safeguard development gains.” The Loss &amp; Damage Fund is also finally coming into effect, so countries can now apply for $5-20 million to make up for damage from climate impact. But claiming damage and linking disasters to climate breakdown has not been an easy process. “When a 200MW hydropower plant is destroyed by a glacial flood, it is a big loss for Nepal’s GDP. Every megawatt costs us $20 million to build,” says energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. “Our lobbying should be top-notch, and hydropower can make a good case for us.” Belém marks the tenth anniversary of the Paris Agreement that brought the world together to pledge to keep global average temperature to ‘well below’ 2°C above pre-industrial levels and limit it to 1.5°C.&nbsp; COP has also returned to Brazil after 30 years of the Rio Conference in 1995. Since then there have been numerous summits, which have been criticised for being just hot air and being hosted by fossil-fuel exporting countries like UAE and Uzbekistan. Belém was selected because it is a gateway to the Amazon, but Brazil has now also become a major oil producer after new offshore finds. A recent report shows that compared to 2019, the world is set to reduce its emissions by 12% in 2035 if countries are to implement their Nationally Determined Contributions even though the figure needs to go up to 40% to meet temperature targets. There has been progress. Before the Paris Agreement the world was on a path for 4°C increase during this century, and this has now come down to 2.5°C because of the clean energy transition. But a lot more needs to be done to meet the Paris 1.5°C target. “This progress is proof that multilateralism is working, it is delivering,” Manjeet Dhakal of the Climate Analytics South Asia told us from Belém. “Having said that, it is simply not enough. Emissions need to go down much further, and a lot of it is tied to developed countries providing climate finance to do so.” Many developing countries have adopted ‘conditional NDCs’ which means their emission reduction targets cannot be met without international climate finance. In its third NDC, Nepal set a target of a 17.1% reduction in net greenhouse gas emissions and 26.8% by 2035. But achieving that has a price tag of &nbsp;$73.74 billion, with much of it from international climate finance. UNDERFINANCED However, the climate for climate finance is getting worse. The United States has exited from the Paris Agreement for the second time under President Trump, and there are cutbacks in foreign aid by European funders. Even so, the EU has committed to reducing its emissions by 90% in the next 15 years, 85% of which will be domestic emission cuts. The silver lining in all this is that the leadership in climate action is increasingly being taken by Nepal’s neighbours China and India with both investing heavily in renewable energy. China is the world leader in solar panels, wind turbines and electric vehicles, and Nepal has already taken strategic advantage of this.&nbsp; With expensive hydropower plants increasingly at risk from glacial lake outburst floods, experts say Nepal must diversify its energy mix and invest in solar power which has 10 times more potential than hydropower at 432 gigawatts with over 300 days of sunshine a year. Solar farms can also power pump storage, which are cheaper and quicker to build.&nbsp; China has drastically reduced the cost of photovoltaic cells, making such schemes more feasible. Nepal just needs to ease up its restrictive domestic energy policies, boost investment and resist geopolitical pressure on electricity generation. “First, we need to increase the cap on solar energy from 10% to 30%, and next, the bidding process should be made easier, or just have the first past the post system like that for hydropower,” says Kushal Gurung. The disadvantage of solar power is that it generates only daytime energy, but this can be solved with grid-scale battery storage or pump storage. But first, the government needs to fix the rate for solar purchase so that entrepreneurs are incentivised. “This is not happening because our government officials and engineers are comfortable dealing with hydropower, and are not just updated about the latest advances,” says Gurung. “As a result, we have no clear policies when it comes to solar.” Hydropower has become one of the biggest industries in Nepal with an installed capacity of over 3,400MW and the government’s target is to produce 28,500MW in the next ten years. But the recent climate disasters have made it clear that relying only on hydropower alone is too risky. The Nepal-Tibet glacial flood in July destroyed and damaged four hydropower plants and substations along the Bhote Kosi, and last September’s floods slashed the country’s total generation by half. Nepal now needs to build on the widespread adoption of battery-powered vehicles by extending it to electric public transport and for household appliances like stoves, rice cookers and refrigerators. Not only would this reduce Nepal’s per capita carbon footprint, but it would also reduce the country’s annual Rs300 billion petroleum import bill. At global platforms like UNFCCC, it is easy even for individual developed countries to get lost without an alliance. Now that Nepal is graduating from LDC status, it needs to have strong partners with a common goal to move forward in international negotiations. Says Kushal Gurung: “We won’t have privilege that came with LDC status anymore, which means climate finance will be even more limited. But there are a few things we can urgently do on our own like regulating the carbon credit market.”&nbsp; This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251118101116_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251118101116_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali Times SDG"> </figure>

Global warning bell in Belém

Frontpage topic

Nepal has made dramatic progress in expanding health services, yet millions of people still do not fully benefit from their Constitution-ensured right to basic medical service. Many of those deprived of accessible and affordable healthcare are in remote far-flung areas of the country, but increasingly they are also among the urban poor who have migrated to the cities and live in the margins. In both areas there are gaps in service quality, health workforce availability, and governance capacity. Out of pocket expenses for medical treatment of a family member can push families into absolute poverty and debt. The 2025 WHO–World Bank Global Monitoring Report on Universal Health Coverage underlines this challenge -- financial hardship from health spending remains a major barrier to equity, even where medical coverage has improved. In Nepal, rising demand for better and more affordable healthcare and workforce shortages due to outmigration of medical personnel and other factors mean that the government is unable to bridge these gaps through public provision alone. Well-governed and accountable public-private partnerships (PPPs) aligned with national priorities offer <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Crowding-it-out,1003" target="_blank">a practical pathway from policy commitment to real-world impact</a>. The experience of the non-profit Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN) in partnership with the Sudurpaschim Province is an example of where this has worked well. Through <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/altruistic-healthcare-models-in-nepal" target="_blank">public ownership and non-profit management</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJzWlnYd0ZM&amp;t=17s" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital</a> in Achham and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/unique-hospital-handover-in-dolakha" target="_blank">Charikot Hospital in Dolakha</a> strengthened service delivery, supply chains, health workforce management, and digital health systems, while keeping all services free at the point of care.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251231101244_b59dabd4604a24426a55fe91c0e5866b5029858bdb4c4028c331557aeb5408ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251231101244_b59dabd4604a24426a55fe91c0e5866b5029858bdb4c4028c331557aeb5408ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bayalpata"> <figcaption>Bayalpata hospital in Achham.</figcaption> </figure>  NHN managed Charikot from 2016-2020 and handed it over to Bagmati Province, and Bayalpata was handed over to Sudurpachim after 17 years in August 2025. These partnerships reduced out-of-pocket spending, improved trust in public facilities, and directly addressed financial concerns of citizens. The WHO–World Bank Global Monitoring Report emphasised that universal health coverage requires strengthening primary health care, providing free services at the point of care, and protecting families from financial hardship. Public–nonprofit partnerships like NHN and others in Nepal provide a model to directly address these challenges. By improving access to quality care, supporting local health workers, and keeping services free, these partnerships help reduce health costs for families, build trust in local health facilities, and narrow the gap between rural and urban health services, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJdxLD0hBqo&amp;t=3s" target="_blank">turning </a><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJdxLD0hBqo&amp;t=3s" target="_blank">policy commitments into real improvements for communities.</a> The experience of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital" target="_blank">Bayalpata and Charikot hospitals</a> show that effective PPPs are governance-driven, not market-led. Clear agreements, transparent data sharing, performance-based management, and strong government oversight guaranteed that public institutions were strengthened rather than sidelined. Bayalpata and Charikot successfully transitioned leadership and full management to Sudurpaschim and Bagmati provincial governments, proving that public-private partnerships can build lasting government capacity, not dependency.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251231101244_a8821faa2059498bbd3318386a1bea25b7cfe7a36600c2e2ce250e97caed51e8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251231101244_a8821faa2059498bbd3318386a1bea25b7cfe7a36600c2e2ce250e97caed51e8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1570" height="940" loading="lazy" alt="Charikot hospital"> <figcaption>Charikot hospital in Dolakha.</figcaption> </figure>  This model combined facility-level operational flexibility with public stewardship, and tackled long-standing weaknesses in Nepal’s health system, from workforce retention to evidence-based decision-making. Scaling such models through a national, gap-focused partnership framework is now an urgent opportunity. Replicating Bayalpata model partnerships in selected hospitals and primary health care centers could rapidly advance the three pillars of universal healthcare: equitable access, quality services, and financial risk protection. Institutionalising public-private partnerships within the Ministry of Health and Population and &nbsp;linking it to national health insurance reforms could help fulfil the promise of Article 35 of the Constitution guaranteeing basic healthcare to all citizens. For development partners and donors, this could represent a high-impact, evidence-informed investment aligned with the WHO–World Bank call to reduce financial hardship while strengthening healthcare systems. If Nepal is serious about leaving no one behind, strategic public–non-profit partnerships must move from the margins to the mainstream of health system reform. By <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal" target="_blank">scaling the NHN model</a> at Bayalpata and Charikot nationwide, Nepal can build a resilient, equitable health system where every community regardless of location or income has access to quality care, financial protection, and the opportunity to succeed. Investing in well-governed PPP models is not only essential to protect the health of the Nepali people but also to safeguard the country’s economic stability and long-term resilience. &nbsp; Srijana Devkota is Director of Program and Partnerships at <a href="https://nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank">Nyaya Health Nepal</a> (NHN). <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJdxLD0hBqo&amp;t=3s" target="_blank">Watch a video of Bayalpata Hospital.</a> <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xJdxLD0hBqo?si=_gSoClqwmI-ecSxh" 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>

A healthier, wealthier Nepal

After the 2008 Constituent Assembly election and the 2015 Constitution, scholars and civil society alike believed the country was on the path to lasting change.&nbsp;
Despite early optimism, democracy remains fragile and falling short of the expectations of citizens. A corrupt elite dominates the political landscape while young citizens grow disillusioned to the point of taking to the streets or staging a mass exodus.
The GenZ movement toppled the government and fresh elections are on the horizon, with that there is another promise of a ‘New Nepal’. Young people previously uninterested in state affairs are now alert and demand a voice. Promising new parties are emerging.&nbsp;
This political awakening should prompt reflection on where we went wrong and how to do better. One striking feature undermining Nepal’s democracy over the past three decades was the <a href="https://www.pressreader.com/india/the-hindu-bangalore-9WW1/20240718/281479281648573" target="_blank">sheer number of coalition</a> governments in such a short time.&nbsp;
Nepal has had 14 prime ministers in 16 years. Each of them served an average of just a little over a year. <a href="https://doi.org/10.1017/s0007123417000539" target="_blank">Coalitions are not inherently bad for a democracy</a>. In fact, coalitions can help bring in diversity of values, voices, and participation in Parliament.&nbsp;
However, chronic and unpredictable coalition patterns undermine and destabilise democracy. Nepal’s fragile coalition governments degenerated into unholy alliances and horse trading between ideologically divergent and previously rival groups.&nbsp;
When one coalition collapsed, the cycle repeated, leaving little room for long-term vision or consistent governance. The result? Corruption, endless infighting, stalled progress, and a nation stuck in political limbo.
This observation is not new, but the blame is misdirected. Some suggest a different electoral system entirely, but instead of scrapping the entire structure and building a new one from scratch, why not examine what went wrong within the systems we already have and fix those?&nbsp;
The coalition problem is not a result of the electoral system but of the party system. While political parties are the medium through which representation and mass participation occur, a party system is the entire network of how they interact, compete, and cooperate within a country’s political landscape.&nbsp;
It is not just one party that is the bad apple, the entire basket is creating conditions for the apples to rot.&nbsp;
The party system is weakly institutionalised. Nepal struggles with unpredictable electoral competition, widespread public distrust in political parties, fragmented internal party structures, and shallow societal embeddedness.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.academia.edu/59719587/Party_System_Institutionalization_Party_Collapse_and_Party_Building" target="_blank">Party System Institutionalisation</a> should create a structured, programmatic competition, but in Nepal the political environment is dominated by elite-level bargaining and opportunistic alliances. Parties form and break coalitions not out of principle, but convenience. Power, not policy, becomes the goal.
This fragility did not emerge overnight. Nepal’s history of a turbulent democracy led to the creation of a necessity- and survival-driven party system.Political parties were born in precarious circumstances, emerging in secrecy, exile, or in response to survival imperatives, rather than organic political development.&nbsp;
The absolute monarchy was always a looming threat, and it worked to prevent the institutionalisation of party structures, even after 1990. As a result, coalition reshuffling became a reactionary survival strategy, reinforcing patterns of short-termism and deepening the perception of parties as opportunistic rather than principled actors.&nbsp;
Over the years, this cycle has hollowed out the substantive meaning of electoral competition: while parties compete and governments change, the underlying political dynamics remain stagnant, offering few real alternatives and fostering a culture of fickle and fragile coalitions.
Building a resilient democracy would require returning to the basics to &nbsp;strengthen the foundations of our party system. Political parties need to look inward and invest in their own institutional development.&nbsp;
That means promoting internal democracy through leadership term limits and transparent succession processes, building clearer ideological platforms that speak to citizens’ real concerns, and forging deeper and more consistent connections with society that go beyond election season or clientelistic outreach.&nbsp;
What Nepal’s parties need is not another rebranding campaign or a protest, but a fundamental reassessment of their purpose, vision, and social relevance.&nbsp;
These lessons are especially important for new political parties hoping to present themselves as genuine alternatives to the status quo. Real change will not come from winning seats alone, it will come from the hard, sustained work of building strong institutions and earning public confidence.&nbsp;
If we once again have hung parliaments, parties will need to build alliances grounded not in self-serving negotiations but in shared policy visions and ideological goals. Without such reforms, Nepal will remain trapped in the same cycle of coalition instability that has long undermined its promise of stable governance and a thriving democracy.
Suvexa Pradhan Tuladhar is an Early Career Policy Research Fellow at Nepal Institute for Policy Research (NIPoRe). She recently graduated from Lake Forest College, IL, USA, with a B.A. (Hons). She double-majored in International Relations and Sociology &amp; Anthropology and minored in Urban Studies.

Nepal’s party problem

“Two lakhs and your job will be done.” We overheard a bureaucrat casually say this to a single mother in a government office. Corruption is a given in Nepali society. From Social Studies books in school to conversations at dinners, it was always understood that a key reason why our country fails time and again is the kleptocracy. Seeing it play out in front of our eyes was disconcerting. The woman pleaded that she did not have that kind of money: “हामीसंग तेत्रो पैसा छैन सर, मिलाइदिनुस न”. If it is so normal for people to need social or economic capital to get the simplest things done, what happens to those who have neither? Corruption is not just stealing money, it steals time, agency, it steals dreams, robs citizens of their rights, it steals their future.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250909120912_cd93a827631d987ee52723aa270faf45aa42e4322eb8f06304b28215e3cea28a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250909120912_cd93a827631d987ee52723aa270faf45aa42e4322eb8f06304b28215e3cea28a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1042" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu protests"></figure>  The very system supposed to protect the underserved serves the already privileged, further widening class, caste and gender gaps. Everywhere, we saw recurring normalisation of corruption. We saw no future for ourselves in a country rotten to the core. We sought escape just like the 65,000 Nepali youth who leave the country every month searching for opportunities beyond our borders. The system was driving us out. We saw and experienced the dysfunction, but stayed silent. We carried the discontent, and accepted it as the norm. That shared silence broke on 8 September 2025. The collective anger was not just towards corruption by politicians and bureaucrats, but the impunity and opacity of the system. The rot at the top infected every level of the state, legitimising and seeping into mundane everyday transactions.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031220_3c4ae462401eb6364ce48bdf79b73b3d6171f391caf78bd7177219d14c730c35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251227031220_3c4ae462401eb6364ce48bdf79b73b3d6171f391caf78bd7177219d14c730c35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="8 September protests"></figure>  The GenZ protest became the turning point. Engulfed by a sense of helplessness, we gathered at Maitighar Mandala that Monday morning to vent our pent up frustration. The protests escalated into a massacre, and then devastating destruction. We needed to channel the rage and remorse into reform, and not deepen the crisis. Our anger was not just directed at the political Troika, but also at the entire culture of impunity and the systemic barriers to progress. We were not alone in this bureaucratic hell, it was a national collective experience. We were saying enough is enough, and we will not accept it anymore. SEEKING A SAVIOUR But here is the thing: we are so so used to heroic stories and movies that end with the protagonist saving all of humanity that we often fall into the trap of looking for a singular saviour in real life as well. Even during this national crisis, we turned to individuals in the hope that they would correct historical wrongs overnight. We conveniently avoided pointing out our own hypocrisy. It was us who vilified the Big Three serial prime ministers for ruining the country, yet here we are expecting one single person to save us all.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031224_47155c550f30fcfbcd34536ae5a1df4008c775d88b49e2998c251ab1ee8e2f5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251227031224_47155c550f30fcfbcd34536ae5a1df4008c775d88b49e2998c251ab1ee8e2f5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu protests"><figcaption>Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption></figure>  In conversations with friends before September, they would be resigned to their fate and would say “यस्तै हो अब देशमा केहि हुँदैन”. We realise now that disengagement is a trap. The more we withdraw, the more we become isolated from the countless people and their active efforts to make this nation better. Hopelessness takes root when good people do nothing and evade their own responsibilities. So, if we can neither rely on a singular hero nor live in a bubble of hopelessness, where does that leave us? It leaves us with each other. In our disillusionment with new saviours, we began to notice a different group of people. These were not leaders on the podium reciting a million promises, but ordinary citizens who made the extraordinary decision to stop waiting and start building. They were the living embodiment of accountability, and we wanted to join in. While we are hopeful and full of ideas, we still lack real-world knowledge to navigate these systemic issues ourselves. This truth hit home during our time with Incubate Nepal, a research program that gave our project, Bureaucrazy, its initial headstart. What began as an eight-week student project quickly revealed its scope as far larger. Bureaucrazy is an AI-enabled platform built voluntarily by us high school graduates led by three female mentors. It was initially designed to help students get two crucial documents (No-objection Certificate and Letter of Equivalence) for education overseas. We were building solutions for our own generation, hoping to smooth a path we had found frustratingly rough. When we took our prototype to the very bureaucrats it was meant to assist, we were met with skepticism.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031224_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251227031224_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2916" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Singha Daraba reconstruction"><figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>  Their reluctance was clear, but it only fueled our determination. Today, Bureaucrazy has evolved beyond its original purpose. By integrating updated AI and expanding our databases, it now answers questions on various bureaucratic processes, from student documents to the ongoing national elections. We are continually updating it, solving problems as they crop up. Being confronted with both our own limitations and systemic inertia was a deeply personal and humbling experience. Corruption stole our roads, our education, our resources, but it did not steal our spirit. Every day, we are more hopeful, not because the problems have vanished, but because we now know with certainty that there are people already at work, patiently and skillfully building a better country. When we work on bureaucrazy.co, when we meet honest bureaucrats, when we talk to young people navigating ways of entrepreneurship, we know that this country is not lost. Maybe we cannot fix everything at once, but we can keep showing up. We can keep building small pockets of hope until they connect into something larger. And one day, living in our Motherland will not feel like a burden that one has to escape, but a place full of possibilities.

Rage in 2025, repair in 2026

Wars and conflicts fundamentally alter landscapes and ecosystems, leaving behind scars that often go unaccounted for amid discussions dominated by human casualties and strategic competition.&nbsp;
Rarely do analyses on wars consider the environment – and there are major conflicts raging across the world at the moment from Ukraine to Gaza to Sudan.
Nature is regarded as an unavoidable collateral of human warfare. Yet, the intersection between conflict and ecology is critical in today’s global polycrisis. This interplay positions the environment not just as the backdrop but as a key variable in geopolitical dynamics.
Framing the environment as a silent victim suggests its passivity during armed conflicts. But the ecological consequences of war are loud and astonishing -- deforestation, pollution, biodiversity loss and fossil fuel use contributing to climate breakdown.
The use of <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/nature01537">Agent Orange in the Vietnam War</a> led to the contamination of over three million hectares of forest, affecting biodiversity, agricultural productivity, and leaving a lasting impact on the health of the people fpr generations.&nbsp;
In <a href="https://unama.unmissions.org/unep-afghanistan-laying-foundations-sustainable-development?utm_source=chatgpt.com">Afghanistan</a>, longstanding conflicts led to a reported 33.8% decline in forest cover in the already-arid country between 1990 and 2005. P<a href="https://news.mongabay.com/2019/07/casualty-of-peace-study-shows-rise-in-deforestation-after-conflicts/">ost-conflict Sri Lanka</a> saw a loss of approximately 188,407 hectares of forest cover.&nbsp;
Wars inject pollutants such as heavy metals, fuel residues, and other toxic substances into the air and water. The burning of 700 Kuwaiti oil wells during the <a href="https://ceobs.org/what-the-environmental-legacy-of-the-gulf-war-should-teach-us/">Gulf War in 1991</a> caused massive air pollution and water contamination that impacted the whole region.&nbsp;
HIMALAYAN HOTSPOT
Human violence is violence against nature, and exacerbates the damage caused during peacetime. In the north-west Himalaya between India and Pakistan, militarisation and climate change depleted 29% of the <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0048969721024475">Machoi glacier</a> between 1972 and 2019.&nbsp;
The China-India border region has seen significant militarisation since the 1962 war, further endangering the fragile ecologies to deforestation, landslides, and glacial lake bursts. The Himalaya is a climate and conflict flashpoint.&nbsp;
Globally, militaries account for <a href="https://climatalk.org/2025/09/15/how-are-wars-affecting-climate-change/#:~:text=The%20overlooked%20carbon%20footprint%20of%20war&amp;text=As%20a%20result%2C%20the%20true,emissions%20of%20the%20defence%20sector.">5.5% of total carbon emissions</a>, making it the fourth-largest emitter. Military spending worldwide reached a staggering <a href="https://breakingdefense.com/2024/04/global-military-spending-hits-all-time-high-of-2-4-trillion-sipri-report/">$2.44 trillion in 2023</a>, dwarfing global climate finance.
And all this does not even take into account the potential impact of an all out, or even regional, nuclear confrontation, the radiation poisoning and planetary winter it would unleash.
The environmental consequences of war and militarisation are barely recognised in traditional international relations theory and praxis. Dominated by realist thinking, global geopolitics prioritises military power and ‘hard’ security over ‘soft’ ecological concerns.&nbsp;
Realist narratives naturalise war as an inevitable reality of the anarchical international system and essentialise military power for states’ survival. They view nature as irrelevant to statecraft, refute ecological casualty, and resource interdependence. Nature remains an afterthought — a resource pit to exploit, rather than an active agent in itself.
International relations therefore not only silence the environmental ramifications of wars but also fail to account for emerging problems posed by planetary limits, transboundary ecological risks, environmental casualties of war, and global interdependence in ecological flows – all of which are inextricably tied to global geopolitics.&nbsp;
These ecological crises, compounded with climate change, transcend national boundaries and individual states’ capabilities. While these may not directly cause conflicts, they are likely to be threat multipliers to potentially worsen existing conflicts and weaken national security and sovereignty.
To better understand the silencing of the environment, we can adopt the constructivist lens to explore how ideas, norms, and discourses shape security narratives in international politics. Contrary to traditional reliance of international relations on power and conflicts as immutable referents, constructivism posits that security and power are socially constructed concepts defined by states’ perceptions of threats.
Thus, traditional international relations has often articulated threats to privilege military and national sovereignty considerations, while neglecting ecological violence. Nature is conceived as a passive resource, a battlefield, or at most, a strategic asset.&nbsp;
This distortion has become the dominant, universal episteme, influencing strategic policies and international law. The state’s constructed identity as the legitimate security provider is intricately tied to militaristic capabilities and not ecological stewardship.&nbsp;
Indeed, dominant global modernisation logic equates progress with resource extraction, crafting a narrative where conflict becomes a tool for resource control, and nature itself becomes a site of contention and competition rather than cooperation.
Critical theory helps demystify the relationship between war and environmental degradation further and explains who benefits from the strategic silencing and invisibilisation of the environment in conflicts.&nbsp;
Tracing the socio-economic and political roots of dominant theories, norms, and practices, critical theory unravels the linkages between capitalism, militarism, and ecological violence. There emerges a deeply capitalistic structural root of the ‘<a href="https://graceblakeley.substack.com/p/the-military-fossil-fuel-complex">military-carbon complex</a>’ which refers to the intricate symbiotic relationship between the military establishment, the defence and the fossil industries, and the resulting environmental destruction.
Militarism actively reproduces ecological violence through arms production and distribution, both heavily fossil fuel dependent. War is a technology that drives the military capitalist order, it becomes a method of stabilising access to and the continued exploitation of carbon-intensive resources.&nbsp;
Conflict necessitates and facilitates the commodification of nature through reckless resource extraction, including minerals, oil, and rare earths. Environmental damage is a feature, not a bug, of militarised capitalism.&nbsp;
Thus, global military actions, strategies, and conflicts perpetuate ecological destruction in the name of national security while serving capitalist interests. To mitigate environmental harm resulting from wars, it is crucial to acknowledge and understand these structural drivers.
Politically constructed concept of ‘security’ must therefore be redefined to encompass ecological and human security, and climate justice. Sovereignty should be reimagined to include ecological health, not only territorial integrity.&nbsp;
Wars must be ‘de-naturalised’ as the historically contingent institutions that they are. There must be a wider recognition that the global triple environmental threats erode the usefulness of Westphalian notions of sovereignty and bounded territoriality.
Robert Mizo, PhD, is an Assistant Professor of Political Science and International Relations at the University of Delhi, India. He holds a PhD in Climate Policy studies. He is a Japan Foundation Indo-Pacific Partnership Research Fellow based at the Toda Peace Institute, Tokyo.
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2025/silent-victim-interrogating-the-ecological-implications-of-war.html">the original</a> with permission.

The ecological impact of war

Kazakhstan President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev during an official visit to Japan this weekend met Prime Minister Takaichi and President Tokayev and issued <a href="http://chrome-extension//efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.mofa.go.jp/mofaj/files/100953279.pdf" target="_blank">a joint statement</a> on a ‘future-oriented expanded strategic partnership’.&nbsp; The statement reaffirmed a rules-based international order grounded in the principles of the UN Charter. At the United Nations University in Tokyo, Tokayev delivered a lecture warning that ‘nuclear risks are rising again’. He referred not only to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki but also to Kazakhstan’s Semipalatinsk nuclear test site, where the former Soviet Union conducted more than 450 nuclear tests, arguing that both Japan and Kazakhstan are countries that know the devastating consequences wrought by nuclear weapons.&nbsp; He said practical steps must be steadily accumulated to advance nuclear disarmament and reduce nuclear risk. Tokayev also cited Kazakhstan’s decision to relinquish the nuclear weapons left on its territory after the Soviet collapse, suggesting that security should not depend solely on nuclear deterrence. Kazakhstan has hosted meetings in Astana on 29 August, the date the Semipalatinsk test site was closed and which has been designated the International Day against Nuclear Tests to draw attention to the inhumane impacts of nuclear weapons and call for strengthening norms underpinning the Central Asian Nuclear-Weapon-Free Zone.&nbsp; These gatherings have included participation by civil society groups such as <a href="https://www.icanw.org/" target="_blank">the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN)</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International (SGI)</a>. The two leaders also welcomed plans to launch regular direct flights in 2026 and agreed to begin intergovernmental negotiations toward the conclusion of a bilateral air services agreement. In addition, the joint statement expressed an intent to exchange information and explore potential avenues of cooperation with the UN Regional Centre for the SDGs for Central Asia and Afghanistan, which was established in Almaty. As major powers step up engagement across the region, Central Asia’s weight as a stage for diplomacy and trade has been growing. Leaders of Japan and the five Central Asian states met in Tokyo this weekend for a new Central Asia + Japan Dialogue (CA+JAD).&nbsp; They adopted the '<a href="http://chrome-extension//efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.mofa.go.jp/files/100954362.pdf" target="_blank">Tokyo Declaration,</a>' which places as its core two &nbsp;priorities: strengthening the supply-chain for critical minerals, and supporting <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trans-Caspian_International_Transport_Route" target="_blank">the Trans-Caspian Corridor</a> which links Central Asia with Europe without transiting Russia. Japanese Prime Minister Takaichi said the meeting reflected Central Asia’s strategic importance as a Eurasian crossroad and a region with mineral resources essential for decarbonisation and advanced industries.&nbsp; The Japanese government emphasised a practical, implementation-oriented approach — translating cooperation into deliverable projects. For Central Asian countries, the Trans-Caspian Corridor is also a means to expand transport options and reduce dependence on any single transit route.&nbsp; It can help attract investment for modernising ports, railways and customs systems, while increasing opportunities to capture transit and logistics revenues. For Japan, corridor development and cooperation on critical minerals serve as a form of risk diversification in economic security. Japan aims to prepare for heightened geopolitical risk by diversifying both procurement sources and transport routes for critical minerals such as rare earths and lithium needed for batteries, renewable energy technologies and electronic devices.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251223091244_e77a6e72d9d05c5d060474c94afc21a5fdbca2dd181d4c86c7314a5532b6d5a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251223091244_e77a6e72d9d05c5d060474c94afc21a5fdbca2dd181d4c86c7314a5532b6d5a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="567" loading="lazy" alt="Tokyo summit"> <figcaption>Middle Corridor. Photo: TITR</figcaption> </figure>  At the Dec. 20 summit, President Tokayev attended alongside the presidents of Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan. Prime Minister Takaichi noted that Central Asia’s growing population and rapid economic expansion have raised the region’s international profile, and stressed the importance of regional cooperation and engagement with external partners. Japan announced the CA+JAD Tokyo Initiative, setting out three priority areas for cooperation: (1) green and resilience (including the energy transition, disaster risk reduction and supply-chain resilience for critical minerals); (2) connectivity (including the Trans-Caspian Corridor and A.I. cooperation); and (3) human development (including scholarship programs and cooperation in health and medical fields). The Tokyo Declaration also explicitly set out the launch of the Japan–Central Asia Partnership for AI Cooperation, with a view to applying AI to resource development and related areas.&nbsp; The Tokyo gathering also underscored the reality of accelerating summit diplomacy around Central Asia. China convened a leaders’ meeting with the five Central Asian states in Kazakhstan earlier this year, and the United States invited the same five leaders to Washington in November. Kazakhstan, in particular, has long pursued a “multi-vector” foreign policy—cultivating relations in parallel with competing major powers to preserve sovereignty and strategic options. The Tokyo agreements—combining diversification of transport corridors, expanded cooperation on minerals and technology, and the use of development cooperation through international institutions—align with this balancing strategy.&nbsp; (INPS Japan)

“Nuclear risks are rising again”

One thing is certain. The killers of Osman Hadi are celebrating today. Things could not have worked out better for them. His killing accomplished three interrelated goals: The first was the removal from the scene of a charismatic, uncompromising, and incorruptible voice of the July Uprising from the political firmament. Whether one was a fan of Osman Hadi or not, one could not question his integrity or his commitment or his willingness to speak truth to power, including to his erstwhile comrades. While so many of the July revolutionaries had become compromised or corrupted in one way or another, and are on the fast track to nowhere but political oblivion, he stood out as the kind of young leader that could have been at the forefront of building a new Bangladesh. For those who would rather see Bangladesh burn to ashes than see it rise up under any rule but their own, he was a mortal threat. He was exactly the kind of leader that could provide a threat to the old order, and that is why he had to be eliminated. The second goal of his killing was to show that the enemies of the July Uprising are not dead yet and that there is still plenty of fight left in them. They have shown very eloquently that their enemies are neither safe nor beyond their reach, and that, even after 18 months, they can still operate with impunity. The message has been delivered loud and clear. If Hadi can be killed and his killers sequestered beyond the reach of justice, then building a new Bangladesh is going to be a long, hard slog, and we are going to remain under enemy fire every step of the way. But it is the third goal that is the most salient: the setting on fire of the Daily Star and Prothom Alo offices was exactly the kind of response his killers wanted to elicit. The burning down of the two newspaper offices sent an entirely different message, one that only served the interest of his killers. It showed that Bangladesh is a country of mob rule and insecurity, ruled by a government that, when push comes to shove, cannot protect its people and whose writ does not extend to the streets. It showed that the press is today less free and less safe than it was under the 15 years of Awami League repression. Indeed, the irony is that these two newspapers were considered Public Enemy Number 1 and Number 2 by Sheikh Hasina who spent 15 years trying to destroy them. No one would be more gratified by the assault on them than her. Finally, it showed that Bangladesh is a tinderbox, with law and order hanging by a thread, where anything can happen at any time to anyone. This is precisely what Hadi’s killers hoped to accomplish. For them, it was a bases loaded grand slam (to borrow baseball terminology, because there is no cricket term that quite fits the bill).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251221031220_74915a5c201ccb3a38ddc2156dd9439df22c7a662d311ee87ad3fe2ff0a6d9d8.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251221031220_74915a5c201ccb3a38ddc2156dd9439df22c7a662d311ee87ad3fe2ff0a6d9d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2564" height="1344" loading="lazy" alt="osman hadi"><figcaption>Osman Hadi</figcaption></figure>  The deeper game was to derail the elections in February and to portray Bangladesh as a hotbed of militancy and instability, thereby giving credence to the narrative of the past eighteen months that had been hammered home by Indian media and social media since Hasina was ousted. From the very day of Hasina’s fleeing, the AL and its allies in the Indian media and social media had tried to paint a picture of Bangladesh descending into a Hobbesian nightmare of chaos and violence that was utterly at odds with the reality on the ground. After a rocky start due to the fact that the police force has largely disappeared and the nation’s administration lay in shambles, the interim government was able to pick up the reins and quietly bring something resembling normalcy back to the country. It was far from perfect, with the courts packed with spurious cases against the innocent and the economy still fragile from the decade and a half of looting and cronyism that the AL had bequeathed to them, but the law and order situation, with some notable and glaring exceptions such as the destruction of Road 32, was slowly brought under control. One week ago, there was no reason to think that we were not on course for elections on February 12 or that the interim government would be unable to deliver them. Now, everything stands in confusion. And this is exactly what Hadi’s killers wanted. Hadi wanted elections. He believed in the electoral process. He believed in democracy. He was running for election in Dhaka-8. He believed in the slow, painstaking process of building a new Bangladesh and knew there could be no short-cuts. He talked about this all the time. If we wish to honor his memory, let us make sure that nothing on Earth comes between us and this election on February 12. The only people who gain from elections being derailed are the Awami League and the rightist parties and elements in society who know they can never win an election or come to power through democratic means. If elections are delayed or derailed, then they win. The only way out for Bangladesh, the only way forward, the only way to deliver us from the current instability is to hold the elections as scheduled. This is what the Bangladeshi people want and this is what the country needs. And now we must all come together to make sure that it happens. The only people who benefit from elections being delayed are the enemies of the Bangladeshi people. Elections delayed means more instability, more space for atrocity, and more scope for violence to take hold. We have already reached the very edge of how long we can survive without an elected government in place. Elections delayed beyond February could be the end of us. Now is the time to bury our differences and join hands, and show that Bangladesh is still the great country that won its Liberation through bitter war in 1971 and overthrew a dictator in a people’s revolution in 2024, and that we stand together, and that together we will forge a future and create a country worthy of our martyrs, of whom Hadi is now one. Let us honor the memory of our fallen brother by ensuring that his death will not divide us and provide aid and comfort to his killers and their allies. Let us honor his memory by giving back to the people their long suppressed voice on February 12, 2026. Zafar Sobhan is the Editor of <a href="https://counterpointbd.com/we-cannot-let-osman-hadis-killers-win" target="_blank">Counterpoint</a>, where this opinion piece first appeared.

Bangladesh on edge ahead of polls

NT #1291

Koreana Coffee Guff begins with a scene where Narayan Wagle, the editor-turned-farmer, appears in reverse cameo, as a character in a novel. He has just landed at Incheon in the dead of winter.&nbsp; The opening premise reminds one of Tolstoy’s saying about how stories begin either when someone goes on a journey, or when a stranger comes to town. ‘The winds of each city are its original inheritance, shaped by its local language, its specific topography and the buffets of the airborne wings of birds and airplanes,’ Wagle writes.&nbsp; The author is both on a journey and a stranger to the town. The word ‘stranger’ might need to be redefined here, as he has visited Korea several times before. But if every journey is new, then he is a stranger of sorts — stranger to the people he meets for the first time in the book, stranger to the reader who will encounter him for the first time like I did in high school reading the English translation of his 2005 Madan Puraskar winning novel Palpasa Cafe.&nbsp; Koreana is non-fiction, and was first published in 2017 in Nepali, and recently rendered into English by Prawin Adhikari, who specialises in translating Nepali works into English in such a way that they do not read like translations at all.&nbsp; Even so, I turned to a few chapters from the original text, curious to see how ideas have morphed. Take Wagle’s journey to Ansan Mountain. It is the same mountain, but something different happens in the two languages. The inexplicable feeling is that the translation has to conquer the mountain itself. At its best, the book gives the reader a peek into Wagle’s mind, his internal monologues, his writing ideas, his thoughts on the people around him, his deep yearning and respect for nature, his exploration of Seoul and Korea, where he is attending the Asian Literary Creative Writing Workshop in 2017.&nbsp; BACK TO THE LAND ‘All cities appear the same everywhere,’ he writes of Seoul, speaking of how ‘development’ has masked the original charm of a city rebuilt after war. In recent years, Wagle has moved on from being the editor of Kantipur, to activism, and has now returned to his ancestral land in Tanahu to farm.&nbsp; Clues to this metamorphosis can be detected in this book, which was written nearly ten years ago and before his transition. Wagle used to write a column called Coffee Guff, and the book carries that conversational style.&nbsp; But not all monologues land. Thoughts rooted in a specific time and space like the hike to Ansan where the author reflects on buildings, birds, and trees feel connected with a context and background. Then there are those that bring in a new metaphor, a new reflection, a new connection in almost each new sentence which make it difficult to follow the author’s stream of consciousness.&nbsp; Halfway into the book, we finally meet the writers who have come from different parts of Asia for the workshop. Not speaking a common language, the writers have to rely on interpreters and Google, which turns their exchanges into quirky moments of laughter.&nbsp; Writers are an important part of the book, the lens through which Wagle invites us to see the world. Poets Manjul from Nepal and Shiva Ryu from Korea make guest appearances. Through two Korean writers who share the surname Kim, we get a glimpse into Korean history and society, and how writing is intertwined with politics.&nbsp; This Korea is different from the Kpop idols and skincare routine that has dominated recent imagination of the divided peninsular nation. Wagle writes, ‘Literature attempts to unite, politics impedes it. They are being continuously thwarted by the conflicts ongoing in the nation’s politics.’&nbsp; One of the Kims is Kim Min-jung (김민정), author of The World’s Most Expensive Novel, that explores what it means to be a writer in Korea.&nbsp; Reading Koreana feels like a hike through a jungle. If one is able to move past the tangled and stretched monologues, the book can hold moments of awe and wonder. But there is always a desire for a clearer trail to follow. &nbsp;&nbsp; Narayan Wagle’s characteristic witticism is there aplenty, his observations are astute. Writers exploring their craft and readers curious of what is churning inside Wagle’s mind will find treats -- sometimes well-crafted, other times to be searched between the lines. &nbsp; Alfa M Shakya is a writer, researcher, and podcaster. She runs and hosts ‘How’d You Create That?’, an art podcast about the creative process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251230071252_5503c9fb08d62adb328d8f817b353604429559d3d9c6542edf3663c3f8c554e5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251230071252_5503c9fb08d62adb328d8f817b353604429559d3d9c6542edf3663c3f8c554e5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Korean coffee guff English translation review"> </figure>

Coffee guff from Korea

Nepal’s Gurkha soldiers have a well-deserved reputation worldwide for uncommon valour and loyalty. However, what happened in Hawaii in 1986 and the long struggle for fair pay and pension shows that the formidable fighters from Nepal also do not tolerate injustice. The Hong Kong-based 1st Battalion of the 7th Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles was in Hawaii for jungle warfare training exercises at the Joint Pacific Multinational Readiness Center when they beat up their commanding officer, Major Corin Pearce. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Gurkhas said Pearce had insulted them, and 111 soldiers were dismissed. Pearce suffered broken ribs and a head injury, and was himself also discharged. The incident got worldwide publicity and enforced the belief that the Nepalis were not treated fairly in the British Army. It also led some retired soldiers to begin a decades-long struggle for compensation at par with their British peers.&nbsp; Retired British Gurkha soldier Shankar Rai in his book Triumph and Tears revisits the Hawaii incident which he witnessed, and also his experience in the Falkland Islands/Malvinas war in 1982.&nbsp; He has lots of grievances: unequal treatment and injustice from the British Army towards himself and his comrades. This is an indignant and disillusioned account of the good, the bad and the ugly of being a British Gurkha, which he says let him down despite his service and belief in it.&nbsp; The book could also be a cautionary tale of how one person on a power-trip can tarnish two centuries of the shared history of Nepal and the UK, as well as ruin the lives of those involved. It also is proof that loyalty should never be taken for granted. Four years after defeating the Argentinians in the Falklands, several companies and platoons of Gurkha rifles were stationed in Hawaii in 1986 for joint US-UK ‘Exercise Union Pacific’ military exercises. The goal was to ‘perfect the art of marine warfare in collaboration with the US Marine Force’. The rules were that a British Gurkha company commander needed to have the rank of major and pass a Nepali language test. Captain Pearce was the son-in-law of a British Brigadier on extra-regiment employment, and this rule was waived. He was appointed Acting Major. Pearce didn’t bother to learn Nepali language or culture, and from Rai’s account took every chance to belittle and embarrass the Gurkhas as poor, stupid, rude, backward, and lucky to be there. He writes: ‘After Captain Pearce reached Hawaii, he began to project himself as a master and the Gurkhas as servants, to show off to the Americans.’ The author also recounts other slights, such as only receiving a fourth of the rations they were due during hard training, being forced to train even when some of the soldiers had high fever, and claims to have ‘civilised’ the Nepalis.&nbsp; Pearce had been to eastern Nepal before the training and seen the grinding poverty. He kept telling the Gurkhas how lucky they were to be in the job, and that they were making ‘more money than Nepal’s prime minister’. During the final farewell party in Hawaii, Pearce set up tables to form a saluting platform, and asked the Gurkha pipe and drum band to march around him while playing. The enraged soldiers could not take it anymore, and after the party an inebriated group ran Captains Pearce and Chandra Kumar Pradhan out of their tents and beat them up. Both officers broke ribs, and the major needed 15 stitches on his head. ‘This sorry and unseemly episode is considered to have been entirely at odds with the Brigade of Gurkhas’ tradition of loyalty and gallant service in the British Army. It is regarded as an isolated and untypical event, which will not be permitted to detract from the high esteem in which the Brigade is held,’ reads the report of an investigation. Most of the 1/7 company soldiers were dismissed whether they had been involved in the assault or not. The author describes the shame that followed, with dismissed soldiers returning to Nepal with lost face.&nbsp; ‘I burned with humiliation, and life scared me,’ writes the author, whose father told him that he was ashamed to call him his son. ‘Many of my friends’ girlfriends left them and married other people. Rifleman Khem Gurung (21162015) of Itahari committed suicide,’ writes Rai, adding that those dismissed were blacklisted, and could not get other jobs.&nbsp; They tried to pursue legal action against the British Government, but backed down when they could not afford expensive hotshot lawyers, and would not have the money to cover the British government’s legal fees in the likely case of a loss in court. Gurkhas who had served for four years in the UK were allowed to move there, an option that many of those dismissed in the Hawaii incident took, including the author, who now lives in Oxford. Rai pours out his hurt and emotion in the book. Towards the end, he writes: ‘I depend on small jobs for livelihood. In the remaining time, I actively raise the issue of the victims of the Hawaii incident. We are burdened with insults, hatred, and contempt for a lifetime. It was harsher than a court martial, too heavy to bear.’ The is a slim book, and is a quick, engaging read of an incident 30 years ago, and Rai writes with a soldier’s precision. Even though the anger shows even after all these years, there is no over-dramatisation in the narrative.&nbsp; The first part of the book is about sailing across the South Atlantic in the QEII, which had been converted into a troop ship to take the Gurkhas to war. The soldiers from landlocked Nepal were mostly sea-sick, but were happy to get two cans of beer a day. Barclays Bank even had a branch on board. Rai’s descriptions of the friendships he developed in the Company and on the battlefield are poignant. They braved Argentinian bombs, dug trenches and fought through the rain in the Southern Hemisphere winter. There are vignettes of sharing tea with fellow Nepalis, seeing comrades fall, and finding pictures of wives and children in the pockets of dead young Argentine soldiers. Behind the prestige, honour and myths of being a Gurkha soldier, it seems this is just another job with nepotism, horrible bosses and bad pay. But such is the desperation that up to 20,000 young Nepalis still apply for 300 openings in the British Army every year. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251227041256_694a253e782c83b0bf89fc1b9840b0ade3f7beca2d0b01dbc4fcd3e63c207f50" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Triumph and tears book details NT"> </figure>

Not taking loyalty for granted

Menstrual stigma remains a lived reality in Nepal, where taboos and violence are still justified in the name of tradition. What is framed as cultural practice is often unsafe, excludes women and deprives them of dignity. Women are forced to face everyday restrictions, to isolate themselves, limit them from access to health information, sanitation, and timely care. Although with education, the practice is less prevalent, it is still entrenched in rural and marginalised communities. Which is why the book Celebrating Menstrual Activists in Nepal is an important reflective documentation of such experiences, practical interventions, lessons and possibilities, with grassroots activism against menstrual banishment from across Nepal. The dominant international narrative of menstruation in Nepal is often reduced to images of women confined in cowsheds on the internet. While the practice of chhaupadi is real and brutal, focusing just on this singular issue erases the diversity of menstrual experiences and activism all over Nepal. “Simply searching ‘menstruation’ in Nepal shows a starkly stereotypical narrative as compared to other countries, where activism, products, and choice dominate the imagery,” says the book’s curator Sara Parker: Parker and Laxmi Dhital interviewed activists from different walks of life, purpose, and responsibilities, all of whom are central to translating legislation into change at the grassroots, some through their focus on practical access and sustainability, others foregrounding gender norms and structural power. LOCAL SOLUTIONS Anupa Shrestha addresses fundamental menstrual health issues such as hygiene, irregular menstruation, menopause, and family planning, but her primary focus is on producing reusable menstrual pads. Anupa spent over two months researching reusable pad production online before locating a trainer in Kathmandu. She then organised her first training session with 15 women. The pads, made from cotton cloth and other absorbent materials, are designed to last at least one year, making them both cost-effective and environmentally sustainable, and has reached over 1,000 people. School-based training is particularly effective. Beni Rani Ghale’s Freedom Period Pads and Claire Lin’s Love Lovely Pads also integrate sustainability, livelihoods, and bodily education, employing local women and reducing menstrual waste. Gyan Maharjan, widely known as ‘Pad Man’, argues that menstrual stigma is rooted in patriarchy and cannot be dismantled without men’s involvement. He envisions a society where fathers can openly explain menstruation to their daughters without shame, and where adolescent girls are equipped with accurate information rather than fear. Maharjan founded X-pose Nepal to address sexual harassment and now employs local women to create reusable and disposable menstrual products. Youth activist Ashwin Karki believes in involving young people in awareness campaigns for behavioural change to ensure that the next generation experiences less discrimination. Babu Kaji Shrestha of Global Action Nepal (GAN), views education as essential for long-term change with improved teaching practices around reproductive and sexual health education. The book expands menstruation beyond hygiene, linking it to nutrition, mental health, and dignity. Bonita Sharma talks about diet, mental health, hygiene, and bodily changes, addressing cramps, hormonal fluctuations, weakness, and variations in bleeding and discharge. Pema Lhaki, a member of the Nepal Fertility Care Centre (NFCC) adapts campaigns to specific communities. She questions the term ‘dignified menstruation’, arguing that activists should focus on normalising menstruation rather than moralising it. In western Nepal, Durga Giri works directly with communities, politicians, teachers, and police to challenge chhaupadi practices, remaining optimistic that sustained engagement at the grassroots level can shift entrenched mindsets. Artist Ashmina Ranjitkar uses visual and political art to confront menstrual shame, saying it is life-affirming rather than impure. Journalists and advocates such as Ganga Khadka demonstrate how activism can influence national policy, most notably through the provision of free menstrual pads in schools. Despite threats, violence, and exclusion, Radha Paudel, founder of the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation, frames menstrual discrimination as a human right violation rooted in the myth of impurity that sustains gender-based violence and inequality. The book shuns simplification and offers a layered, grounded account of why the fight to normalise menstruation must continue. It is a creative outcome of Dignity Without Danger (DWD), a British Academy–GCRF–funded research project. Illustrated by Sophie Maliphant, the book invites readers to engage, to reflect on their learnings and become a part of this movement by sharing the impact of reading these stories with #CelebratingMenstrualActivists, #MenstrualActivistStories and @DignityWithoutDanger. The funds raised from the book will be used to support further menstrual education initiatives by Global Action Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251225111244_29fdde4e907d5edbf98b629e1ab299f4dd59800711b377fe02e1df124b3cca36.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251225111244_29fdde4e907d5edbf98b629e1ab299f4dd59800711b377fe02e1df124b3cca36" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="That time of the month NT"></figure>

That time of the month

A day after Rabi Lamichhane and Balen Shah <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-nepal-in-2026-z6l4fgrd">came together to form an electoral alliance</a>, Kulman Ghising has also joined forces with the two leaders, merging his Ujyalo Nepal Party with the RSP.&nbsp; Following last-minute negotiations before Monday’s midnight deadline for parties to file their list of candidates for the Proportional Representation (PR) seats, Lamichhane and Ujyalo Nepal chair Anup Kumar Upadhyay signed a seven-point agreement to unify the two parties, with Balen Shah as witness.&nbsp; Per the deal, Ghising will be the vice-chair of the RSP, joining DP Aryal and Swarnim Wagle as the party’s seconds-in-command. The earlier agreement between Lamichhane and Shah retained Lamichhane as RSP chief, and promised Shah prime ministership if the party wins a majority in Parliament in March.&nbsp; Ghising’s team reportedly has a 17% share on the list of PR candidates filed by the RSP at the Election Commission. Balen has also fielded his own picks, and together the party has the likes of cricketer Gyandenra Malla, actress Reema Biswokarma, rights activist Mohna Ansari, climate activist Tashi Lhazom, and singer Prakash Saput as PR candidates. Ghising had held multiple rounds of talks with the RSP chair and the Kathmandu Mayor to discuss possible collaborations, but had failed to reach a power-sharing agreement. On Monday, Ghising had met with Lamichhane heeding a last-ditch effort from GenZ leaders, in particular Sudan Gurung, as they tried for the final time to get the interim Minister on board with Lamichhane and Shah before the PR list submission deadline.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025123004128_99e23ae7b6a042e71d271e3e74f7527086a7bb55779e6781bc9e7b711c8303e7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025123004128_99e23ae7b6a042e71d271e3e74f7527086a7bb55779e6781bc9e7b711c8303e7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1595" height="1087" loading="lazy" alt="Sudan Kulman Balen"> <figcaption>Photo: SUDAN GURUNG / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025123004128_d9f530704ab4c6e27eebf51f8e9fb55fed1d4281c99d089d06455cc7448bfda7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025123004128_d9f530704ab4c6e27eebf51f8e9fb55fed1d4281c99d089d06455cc7448bfda7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1026" height="1084" loading="lazy" alt="Balen and Sudan NT"> <figcaption>Photo: BALEN SHAH / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  The three are now set to make a formidable team to challenge mainstream parties at the polls. News of this alliance has been welcome to Nepalis who are looking for any alternatives to break the stronghold of the Oli-Deuba-Dahal trio over Nepali politics in recent history.&nbsp; But they will also carry each other’s baggage.&nbsp; Lamichhane, who was jailed for defrauding cooperatives depositors last year, was welcomed back as RSP party chair with open arms after he was released on bail last week. And while he has maintained his base of loyal supporters, he was subject to widespread criticism after he walked out of detention amid the jailbreak during the September protests, prompting his eventual voluntary return to prison.&nbsp; His party’s silencing and expulsion of critics within the RSP has also drawn direct comparison with the leadership structure of Nepal’s mainstream parties. Prominent leaders like Sumana Shrestha have left the party over disagreements with leadership.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Balen’s impassioned campaign resonated with Nepalis disillusioned with establishment leaders during the 2022 election and made him mayor of Kathmandu. The mayor’s direct, no-holds-barred style of communication and commentary has attained him much support beyond his constituency.&nbsp; But his unyielding, often unempathetic leadership style and policies— like his dismissal of street vendors and informal businesses during his drive to free up Kathmandu’s footpaths— have also earned him detractors. His recent outburst on social media in November that included expletives against both of Nepal’s neighbours and the US, as well as Nepal’s three main parties and the RSP was also widely criticised.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251230041212_fc2088daf32bac93541ebf25ca07725d75a721ae83440749ac8fa09d8fe308f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251230041212_fc2088daf32bac93541ebf25ca07725d75a721ae83440749ac8fa09d8fe308f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="890" height="1255" loading="lazy" alt="Agreement NT"> <figcaption>The seven-point agreement between RSP and Ujyalo Nepal Party.</figcaption> </figure>  Ghising, credited with ending Nepal’s prolonged load-shedding during his tenure as the chief of Nepal Electricity Authority, has a reputation of getting the job done. His public goodwill earned him a seat on Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s interim Cabinet following the youth protest.&nbsp; But he has also been under scrutiny for funds misappropriation as well as controversial power purchase agreements during his tenure as NEA chief. Ghising had foregone the leadership position at his Ujyalo party, preferring to play the role of patron until closer to the election date, but was nonetheless criticised for his political and electoral aspirations while being a member of the transitional government. It now remains to be seen if and when Ghising will step away from his position in the interim Cabinet and begin campaigning with his new partners.&nbsp; As it stands, the involvement of prominent GenZ figures in bringing together Ghising, Shah, and Lamichhane has established youth leaders as major players in Nepal’s post-September political landscape. These leaders will have significant pull with young and first-time voters. But not all young leaders are impressed with this new triumvirate. Some have pointed out that the unity between these three leaders is no different from the political opportunism and quid-pro-quo power-sharing culture established and followed by Nepal’s mainstream leadership for the last three decades which culminated into the GenZ movement of September.

Kulman follows Balen to RSP

Everyone in the world is running some kind of race. Some chase recognition. Some chase money. Others run simply to stay ahead of others. But there are some who run for others. They are not trying to overtake anyone, they do not do it for fame, they are not getting paid to do it. But they run to pay for the upliftment of those less privileged. Bal Joshi, 41, is originally from Surkhet. His father was involved in the democratic movement during the days of absolute monarchy and he remembers frequent police searches of the house. And with his father in hiding, the young Joshi had to take care of the family. When the family’s small shop failed, his mother took the young Bal and his brother back to the village, and that is where he completed his education, walking four hours roundtrip every day between home and school. He ran most of the way, and without realising it he has been running ever since. Life was hard. Rent, food, education. His mother struggled constantly. There were days when there was no money even to buy kerosene for the stove. At one point, he sold his calculator, worth Rs 300, for just Rs 80 to get by.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251229031252_edb16b64a3d362a8dc86870bfa5deaad03a84e67d47f37cfd0bb5a8e584691fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251229031252_edb16b64a3d362a8dc86870bfa5deaad03a84e67d47f37cfd0bb5a8e584691fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Running for dear life NT"> </figure>  At 15, Joshi moved to Nepalganj to continue his education. He initially stayed with his uncles, but eventually began living on his own. The transition to city life was difficult, and he experienced significant economic hardship while trying to pursue his studies. There were times when he struggled to meet basic needs, and at one point he sold his calculator just to get by. When he was 17, after hearing that his father was seriously ill, Joshi travelled to Gujarat to bring him back home. His father died soon after, and Joshi took on responsibility for supporting his family. It was his mother who taught him that despite scarcity, life had to be lived with dignity. Joshi started working at a newspaper at the age of 16 as a proofreader, and later became a journalist. During the Maoist war when children were being orphaned as a result of violence by both sides, he became active in the Sahara Group, and at 19, he began managing an orphanage that took in conflict-affected children. In Bajhang, after the army killed a man on suspicion of being a Maoist, his wife jumped into the Seti River and ended her life. Their two children were taken into army custody. During the rescue process, Joshi met Sunaina Adhikari of the ICRC and back in Nepalganj they decided to get married. The conflict was still raging in western Nepal in 2005, when Joshi went to the United States. In Maryland, he initially worked at a Bengali-owned Subway outlet, spending long hours on his feet behind the counter. He changed jobs frequently, financing his education along the way, and ultimately graduated with a degree in finance in 2008. He joined Hancock Whitney Bank in Texas, and has risen up the ranks to be Senior Vice President. A colleague inspired him to run as a way to stay healthy. But it soon turned into something more meaningful — running more than a dozen 50km marathons for charity.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251229031252_165a6d935860cf6707178aa2ac7395733883158f425bbe0ebed125529d601f61.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251229031252_165a6d935860cf6707178aa2ac7395733883158f425bbe0ebed125529d601f61" data-rendition-name="original" width="999" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Running for dear life NT"> </figure>  Last year, Joshi returned to Nepal to run the Everest Marathon, and raised $42,000 which he donated to <a href="https://onestepfoundation.org/" target="_blank">One Step Foundation</a> which works on health care, child welfare and cultural preservation in Nepal and around the world. In June this year, Joshi and his family climbed Kilimanjaro, raising $19,000 for 80 HIV-affected orphaned children in Tanzania. During the Diwali festival he ran 220km in Nevada’s Red Canyon and raised $25,000 for cataract surgeries through the the <a href="https://www.theruitfoundation.org/" target="_blank">Ruit Foundation</a> in Nepal for cataract surgeries.&nbsp; Joshi does not run competitions, and is not trying to break any records. His motto is: “My race, my pace.”&nbsp; Turning his childhood scarcity into helping others, he says: “We all share sunlight, rain, air, and soil, nothing is truly just your own. I grew up without shoes, and I am fortunate to be able to distribute shoes to those who walk barefoot.” We ask Bal Joshi what (and where) next? His answer: the <a href="https://www.worldmarathonchallenge.com/" target="_blank">World Marathon Challenge</a> that will go around the world to run seven marathons in seven continents in seven days beginning in Antarctica at end-January.&nbsp; Joshi aims to run wearing the daura suruwal and Nepal’s flag as to show where he comes from, and how far in life he has come.

Running for dear life

After a week of to-and-fro that culminated in all-night bargaining, two populist young figures in Nepali politics agreed at 4AM on Sunday to join forces ahead of elections in March. Rabi Lamichhane of the RSP, who came out of jail a week ago, has forged an alliance with Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah. Both are keen to ride on the GenZ wave that radically changed the direction of Nepal’s politics that has been dominated by three mainstream parties for the past three decades. Under the 7-point deal, Lamichhane will still head the RSP, while Shah has been promised prime ministership if the party wins a majority in the federal elections. Shah will also be the parliamentary party leader. The RSP will keep its name and election symbol. “Agreements must be made not on the basis of what leaders want, but on what the country needs,” Lamichhane wrote on social media announcing the alliance. The RSP chair is said to have put his own prime ministerial aspirations on hold to ensure the Kathmandu Mayor's support for the March polls. This is an alliance of convenience. Lamichhane requires the backing from Shah’s youth voters to face the legacy parties, while the mayor needs a political platform. Ultimately the prospect of leading not just Kathmandu but Nepal itself appears to have been the deciding factor for Balen Shah. The Kathmandu mayor is reportedly keen to contest the election from Jhapa against former prime minister K P Oli in his constituency.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228041212_1b26fd7f14e418a9bdb827a7b733914c08183c36b4a93694fc1aefda9f45d85a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251228041212_1b26fd7f14e418a9bdb827a7b733914c08183c36b4a93694fc1aefda9f45d85a" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Balen-Rabi alliance"> <figcaption>Photo: BALEN SHAH, RABI LAMICHHANE / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  The two have much in common. Lamichhane, a former tv anchor, returned from the United States and launched the RSP as an alternative party four months before elections in 2022. He served as Home Minister twice in Pushpa Kamal Dahal's coalition government before being jailed for defrauding cooperatives depositers. He made a jail break during the September protests, returned to prison voluntarily, and was released on bail last week. Balen Shah stood as an independent candidate for mayor of Kathmandu in local elections in 2022, and was catapulted to victory because of anti-incumbent protest votes among urban youth.&nbsp; Both campaigned on social media, pushing a populist anti-corruption agenda and against the governance failure of the three establishment parties — the same logic that drove the GenZ protests in September that escalated into violence and brought down the UML-NC coalition. Even as government buildings smouldered on 10 September, GenZ members were strongly urging Balen Shah to be the interim prime minister, but when he declined they voted on Discord for former chief justice Sushila Karki.&nbsp; With just over two months to go for elections on 5 March, Prime Minister Karki has been trying desperately to get the mainstream parties on board. She has met twice with the top leaders of the UML, NC and the NCP. All three parties have been dealing with internal power struggles, and the UML appears to be the most reluctant to face elections.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228051212_d42944e014b278d6864270b74f924ac842d6f7a68d5bd6817148d120522ba60b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251228051212_d42944e014b278d6864270b74f924ac842d6f7a68d5bd6817148d120522ba60b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki with political leaders"> <figcaption>Prime Minister Sushila Karki has been meeting with leaders of the mainstream parties to get them on board for the election. Photo: PMO</figcaption> </figure>  The UML’s former prime minister K P Oli has refused summons by the Judicial Inquiry Commission charged with investigating the massacre of protesters on 8 September and the arson and vandalism the next day. Then home minister Ramesh Lekhak is scheduled to give his deposition to the Commission this week. The legacy parties appear to be taking the threat from the Rabi-Balen partnership strongly, and have been trying to forge an electoral alliance so they do not compete against each other.&nbsp; They are relying on traditional vote banks among the rural electorate, and calculate that alternative forces will cancel themselves out. They could also be hoping that Balen Shah’s erratic behaviour and Rabi Lamichhane’s prison conviction will put voters off. A total of 837,094 first-time voters have been registered in Nepal ahead of the elections.&nbsp; The Kathmandu mayor is an engineer and rap artist, and had till now been reclusive, preferring to post on social media rather than face the press. His late-night online posts have been impulsive: like the one urging that Singha Darbar be burnt down, or another one recently in which he used the f-word against the US, China, India and the mainstream parties. He later deleted both posts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251228041212_a2f87881e36fb40b82bf77e1b07003aaf36b91e2a9eb5da096f1e562654c31e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251228041212_a2f87881e36fb40b82bf77e1b07003aaf36b91e2a9eb5da096f1e562654c31e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1112" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Rabi agreement NT"> <figcaption>The seven-point agreement between Shah and Lamichhane. </figcaption> </figure>  Lamichane and Shah had also been negotiating with Energy Minister Kulman Ghising’s newly-forced Ujyalo Nepal Party, but the bargaining did not go well because Ghising refused to fight elections under the RSP banner. If the three had been successful in coming together, it would have been a formidable alliance. There are misgivings about the RSP-Balen Shah deal, even among some GenZ who see the two prominent men dividing up the power structure as just the kind of political culture they wanted to reform. Many are already predicting exactly the kind of clash of egos between the two alpha males that characterised Nepali politics since the restoration of democracy in 1990. In the coming days, as with most political change in Nepal, there will be much speculation about the geopolitics behind the Rabi-Balen deal. Balen Shah’s angry post against India-US-China as well as his past nationalistic pronouncements on Nepal’s territorial dispute with India over Kalapani will be recalled, while Beijing has misgivings about the antecedents of some GenZ figures. Dharan-mayor Harka Sampang, who has also formed his own political party, has already pronounced the Rabi-Balen deal as being “foreign backed”.

Old vs New in Nepal in 2026

The year started off uneventfully, but ended in tumult and uncertainty about the future. But there were tensions simmering under the surface.
In February, Nepal made it to the Financial Action Task Force <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/black-white-and-grey">(FATF) grey list</a> for failing to address money-laundering. The closure of the USAID <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/usnoaid">halted most health, climate and nutrition projects</a>. In the midst of it all, India and Pakistan went to war in May and although there was no nuclear fullout, it resulted in Trump and Modi falling out bigly.&nbsp;
On 28 March, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/republicans-and-royalists-on-nepal-s-streets">a pro-monarchy rally in Kathmandu</a> led by loan defaulter Durga Prasai had been dispersed by riot police. Two people, including a tv reporter, were killed when his supporters resorted to arson and looting – a dress rehearsal for what was to come later in the year.&nbsp;
The monsoon brought its usual woes—this time <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">a trans-boundary glacial overflow flood on the Bhote Kosi</a> that swept away the main trade route with China, and reminded us about climate risk.&nbsp;
In <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/when-xi-meets-modi-and-oli">August Kathmandu’s chatterati were busy speculating </a>on whether Prime Minister K P Oli would get an official invitation to visit New Delhi. When that offer did not come, he made a controversial trip to attend the Victory Day Parade in Beijing on 3 September marking the 80th anniversary of Japan’s defeat in World War II.&nbsp;
He was in the illustrious company of Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping and Kim Jong Un – and back in Kathmandu six days later he was out of a job. Oli had to be rescued by an Army helicopter just before protesters set fire to his official residence.&nbsp;
Throughout the year, the UML-NC coalition had been working on a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/big-beautiful-bills">series of bills to limit freedom of speech </a>with an amendment to the Print and Publication Act, the Social Media Bill, the Counter-intelligence Bill and a move to replace Social Welfare Council. The spark that lit the fuse was the ban on 26 social media platforms on 5 September.&nbsp;
Inspired by recent youth-led anti-corruption protests in Indonesia, Nepal’s GenZ decided to rally. Nepal’s socio-political landscape was tinder-dry, and outrage over the killings added fuel to the conflagration.&nbsp;
When the GenZ called for a rally against corruption and poor governance on 8 September, no one (least the youthful protesters) could have imagined that it would spiral out of control like it did. Nineteen <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">demonstrators were massacred on 8 Septembe</a>r by APF gunmen using assault rifles.
The bloodshed was broadcast live and unfiltered on social media. The next day, with the youth still reeling from shock, anyone and everyone with a grievance <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">went on a rampage of arson and looting</a>, targeting homes, government offices, schools and businesses. By the time the Nepal Army declared a curfew at 10PM on 9 September, much had been reduced to ashes.
The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal">GenZ voted Sushila Karki in as prime minister</a>, but an outspoken faction is not happy with her. Adding to the distraction are UML and NC leaders who still cannot believe they have been toppled, and want to revive the House. Oli has been re-elected chair of the UML, and is not giving up and has convinced former NC coalition partner Sher Bahadur Deuba not to chicken out either.&nbsp;
But both parties have no choice but to go for elections, even though <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/establishmentarianism">they have not reformed their parties </a>to address the public outrage against their decades of misrule.
Prospects of elections in March were looking iffy until President Ram Chandra Paudel this week convened a meeting of the UML, NC and NCP for their first meeting with Karki. The RSP is talking to Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah, and suddenly polls look possible. Whatever the outcome, 2026 will change the trajectory of Nepali politics with the dominance of the established parties challenged by new alternative forces.&nbsp;
But whether this will bring a new political culture of transparency, democracy and accountability, or degenerate into populism and despotism we will begin to see in 2026.

REWIND 2025

Top news

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

Malnutrition

Sha Bahadur Gurung was 30 years old when he was arrested for participating in a peaceful protest. He died aged 65 last week in Bhutan’s Chamgang Central Prison. He was among 31 prisoners of conscience in Bhutan, many of whom are serving long sentences for opposing the regime’s forcible expulsion of 100,000 of its Lhotsampa people in the early 1990s. ‘Mr Gurung died on 15 December in his prison cell under circumstances that raise serious concerns about custodial negligence and long-term abuse,” said a statement by the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) based in The Hague which demanded an external probe, justice and release of remaining political prisoners. Gurung was from Chirang and was arrested in 1990 while serving in the Royal Bhutan Army, and accused of having sympathies for the Lhotsampa people. He was mostly held at the notorious Rabuna Prison in Wangdi Phodrang District.&nbsp; Gurung’s relatives in the United States said he had endured prolonged physical and psychological abuse during his imprisonment, and repeatedly subjected to torture and inhumane treatment. They believe the decades of ill-treatment had damaged his health, ultimately leading to his death. Earlier this month, Gurung was transferred from Rabuna to Chamgang Central Prison. On 14 December. He had gone to bed after dinner without any visible sign of distress. He was found unconscious in his cell the next morning.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="1103" loading="lazy" alt="Sha Bahadur Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Sha Bahadur Gurung, who died at age 65 in prison in Bhutan after serving 30 years for expressing political opinion.</figcaption> </figure>  He was referred to a hospital in Thimphu, suggesting that he was still alive during transfer to a local health post. But it appears that he had already died before being taken from prison. Gurung’s death occurred two days before Bhutan’s National Day on 17 December, when families, supporters, and human rights advocates worldwide had hoped for the release of political prisoners through a royal amnesty. Instead, the death of one of the longest-serving political prisoners has caused grief and anger in the Bhutanese diaspora.&nbsp; “We strongly condemn the treatment and death of Gurung, a peaceful and justice-loving Bhutanese citizen,” the V statement said. ‘This tragedy raises serious questions about the treatment of political prisoners in Bhutan and stands in stark contrast to the country’s international image under the principles of Gross National Happiness, compassion, and mindfulness.’ Earlier this year, The <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/special-procedures/wg-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention-its-101st-session" target="_blank">United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the Bhutan government was detaining citizens without parole for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/detainees-in-dire-straits-in-bhutan-s-prisons" target="_blank">expressing political opinion</a>. The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in 2023 that there were least 37 <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/13/bhutan-free-long-term-political-prisoners" target="_blank">political prisoners</a> in Bhutan’s jails. Of them, 32 belong to the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa community, which has faced <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2003/06/18/nepal-bhutanese-refugees-rendered-stateless" target="_blank">decades of discrimination and abuse</a> and eviction. Most of them were convicted because of prohibited political activity between 1990 and 2008. One political prisoner, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-country-for-dissent?fbclid=IwAR07lpitMBWAYSkny_3d_smQBlmoxAOQm1OxdNtl-27h8mV0RNO9IxVY2qs" target="_blank">Madhukar Monger</a>, who was released in 2023 after serving 29 years described brutal conditions in <a href="https://www.hrw.org/asia/bhutan" target="_blank">Bhutan</a>'s jails. Political prisoners were not given enough food, and medical care, he said, urging the internaitoonal community to press for the release of prisoners of conscience.&nbsp; In March, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/meenakshi-ganguly" target="_blank">Meenakshi Ganguly</a>, Deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, urged Bhutan’s international partners to call on the Bhutan government to release all remaining political prisoners immediately.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1422" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1420" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

This is the 77th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I was in Grade 3 when my father left for Saudi Arabia. Letters he sent occasionally contained photos. We had to get used to matching the person in the photos with him when he came home. Over two decades later, I left behind my son a day after he was born to go to Korea.&nbsp; He was five when I returned, and he just could not believe I was the same person he spoke on video calls. To convince him that it was indeed me, I had to call him on video from the other room.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Technology, it turns out, is no replacement to proximity and physical presence.&nbsp; When my father was in Saudi Arabia, my mother died. My father could not return to Nepal immediately, and my grandmother took in my two sisters and me.&nbsp; My studies took a hit. I started working in a shoe shop, and earned Rs2,100 a month. I wanted to start a shoe shop with support from my father when he returned. He did not, and neither did my other relatives. Perhaps they doubted my business sense. Or they had other priorities.&nbsp; Whatever it was, this feeling of not having someone to back me up hit me deeply but give me confidence. Without alternatives, I decided to prepare to migrate to Korea. I studied for the language exam and was among the first cohort under the G2G scheme. When I was finally matched with a Korean employer, I could not be happier.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="823" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Not having received any support from those around me, the Korean offer made me feel like I had won in life. My grandmother was happy because it would increase family income. She had three additional mouths to feed, and we were quickly growing up. She worried about getting my sisters married. My first stint in Korea, however, was not what I expected. I had to change jobs multiple times, either because the company I worked for was unable to pay me, there was no work, or I had an accident. The odds just were not in my favour. The global financial crisis had taken a toll on the economy.&nbsp; Even so, I managed to help pay for my sisters' weddings and had modest savings. But there was not much to show for it compared to my peers. Never again, I thought, as I said goodbye to Korea.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="1279" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I came home and got married. I started a mobile repair shop. But it did not work out well either, and I was soon headed back to Korea despite my misgivings. I left a day after my son was born, and this time I was determined to make it work in Korea. I was placed in a company that made golf balls. It paid well, but the job was just for money, I needed to do something more with my future that would help me stand on my own feet once I was back in Nepal. I was intrigued by the three-in-one instant coffee sachets in Korea that had coffee, milk and sugar. Back home in our village in Kaski, our cooperative grew coffee that either went to waste or fetched very low prices. My sisters and I used to pick the sweet and tasty coffee cherries.&nbsp; I saw a great business prospect in turning the beans into coffee sachets, and started exploring this. That was my mission: to make instant coffee packets widely available in Nepal. It was just a matter of understanding the process so I went to a migrant resource centre in Korea to inquire about where I could learn this.&nbsp; I was advised to take barista classes, and I found out that sachet coffee is actually not healthy and I should instead learn about fresh brewed coffee. That seemed even more exciting. How coffee beans could be ground and sold for over Rs450 in Korean cafes that people waited in line for bemused me. During my free time, I spent all my energy learning about coffee. I took training in barista, coffee sensory, machine repair and roasting. I had to rely on the generosity of Koreans who were willing to take a chance on me as I had different constraints such as lack of network, a busy work schedule at my regular job but even then, people offered to help.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee NT"> </figure>  I was so obsessed that whenever I spent time on leisure activities during days off, I felt guilty. My golf ball job was just for income, I had to invest in my real post-Korea life. Balancing work and learning everything about coffee was not easy. Not only did I pay for some of the lessons, I even skipped overtime hours for them. But this was for my future. I must have consulted over a dozen coffee experts in Korea to share their experience and connect me to people. I could not afford to be shy about asking strangers for help. When the pandemic hit, we were granted a one-year visa extension, and I took it as an opportunity to invest in myself. I had seen great business prospects for coffee machine repair service in Pokhara because people had to rely on Kathmandu. But to learn machine repair and maintenance, I had to spend more time and weekend classes were not going to be sufficient.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1138" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I moved to a training company and worked just enough to maintain my legal status. I did not take overtime shifts. Even my roommates barely saw me because I used to come home long after our duty hours from my coffee training. I also needed actual job experience so I asked my trainer to let me shadow him at work.&nbsp; The on-the-job exposure to repair and maintenance work gave me more confidence and expertise. When I returned to Nepal, I came home with a suitcase full of coffee machine parts. I have started a coffee shop called Jumli, provide machine repair services and have also started growing my own coffee. The idea is to be a one stop shop for all players in the coffee industry, whether it is farmers or coffee shop owners who need Nepal-grown coffee or machine repair services or coffee lovers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086" data-rendition-name="original" width="1321" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  It is not always easy being an entrepreneur in Nepal. Sometimes, when I am on shaky ground, I close my eyes and talk to my mother in my head for clarity. Some of these conversations are replays of the things she told me when I was growing up. I didn’t take them seriously then, but now they offer important nuggets of wisdom about life, society, and how to navigate difficult times. I have a lot of hope for the future. I am now laying the groundwork to one day export Nepal’s specialty coffee to the international market, meeting global standards of quality. Programs like the Returnee Innovators for Nepal (RIN) help in equipping you with the skills to better pitch your business and give exposure and networks. Even now, I rely on my trainer in Korea for guidance or to access spare parts that are not available in Nepal. I have come a long way from the day I cluelessly chose ‘American-O’ coffee because it was the easiest drink to pronounce in the menu. I never thought I would be making a living from coffee back home in Nepal one day.&nbsp;

A healthier, wealthier Nepal

Coffee guff from Korea

Kulman follows Balen to RSP

Nepal’s party problem

Running for dear life

Old vs New in Nepal in 2026

Not taking loyalty for granted

Rage in 2025, repair in 2026

70 days, and counting

REWIND 2025

That time of the month

Climate

How much ice must melt before we act?

The Himalaya is not fragile

Global warning bell in Belém

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

THIS WEEK ON E-PAPER

Opinions

70 days, and counting

Coffee guff from Korea

Not taking loyalty for granted

That time of the month

ILO+SSF

Turkish to Cambodia

Flower farmers

20YEARS AGO THIS WEEK

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

Featured Videos

Looking good by doing good

The saga of Nepal Jaynagar-Janakpur Railway

Kangchenjunga in winter