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

The river of life

Bottom

Nepal’s paddy production is projected to reach 5.5 million tonnes, 4.2% lower than last year. The Ministry of Agriculture has identified out-migration, drought, and land fragmentation as reasons. Rice accounts for 12% of Nepal’s GDP.&nbsp;

Paddy down 4.4%

The Open Access Directive 2025 allows private hydro producers to sell electricity directly, ending the NEA’s monopoly. The directive allows power plants above 1MW to sell to Nepali businesses. The NEA will still oversee these transactions. The GoN is incentivising private sector participation hoping to reach 28,500MW generation by 2035.

NEA monopoly ends

The US Embassy is holding a nationwide hackathon, challenging participants to build tech solutions for local challenges in education, tourism, and commerce. The six-month program is aimed at students, early-career pros, and entrepreneurs. The program will connect promising projects with mentorship and investment.

US Embassy hackathon

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

Only a handful of people who witnessed the 1934 megaquake as children are still alive. And the memories of 2015 are fading fast.&nbsp;
We were shaken, but have not stirred into action. We have not even started preparing to be prepared for the inevitable, for it is not a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’.&nbsp;
Thursday 15 January was National Earthquake Safety Day commemorating the 1934 disaster that killed 10,000 people in Kathmandu Valley at a time when its population was barely 100,000.
Nepal is in an active seismic zone, and a really big one is overdue in the seismic gap in western Nepal where there has not been a megaquake for 500 years. The 7.8M quake in 2015 did not completely release the tectonic stress below Central Nepal.
An 8M+ earthquake epicentred in western Nepal will be even more violent than the 2015 one in Kathmandu and will be powerful enough to cause destruction across northern India as well.&nbsp;
We Nepalis are resilient, but we are also complacent and fatalistic. How else does one explain the unsafe and unplanned building construction in Kathmandu, Pokhara and other towns despite frequent reminders of what quakes can do?&nbsp;
Most designs are ad hoc and follow no engineering logic. Reinforced Cement Concrete (RCC) is now widespread across the country since such structures mostly withstood the 2015 event. But structural engineers say most concrete buildings are substandard, and can be death traps. Also, the country lacks equipment and training for search and rescue in cement houses.&nbsp;
FIRE HAZARD
If an earthquake struck Kathmandu on a windy winter evening, there is the added risk of fires from gas cylinders in collapsed buildings spreading across the densely packed city core. Fire trucks will not be able to reach those areas because the streets will be blocked.
Seismic risk is now amplified by climate breakdown. Nepal now needs to factor in the co-hazard of massive avalanches and Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) triggered by future earthquakes. There are 41 potentially dangerous glacial lakes in the region, and 27 of them are in Tibet feeding rivers that flow into Nepal. A megaquake there could cause multiple simultaneous GLOFs.&nbsp;
If the 2015 earthquake had not happened on a Saturday, tens of thousands of children could have been killed in the 7,000 schools that were flattened. More than 2,500 government buildings came down, and would have killed and trapped many if it had not been a weekend.
Schools and health facilities retrofitted before the disaster were unscathed, and served as shelters for survivors. Chhatrapati Free Clinic (CFC) was reinforced three years before the earthquake for Rs5.2 million, and with support from National Society of Earthquake Technology (NSET), 800 community members were trained in search and rescue.
Bhuwaneswori Secondary School in Bhaktapur and Bal Bikas Secondary School in Kathmandu both survived 2015 because they had been retrofitted. Singha Darbar, the Supreme Court and the Department of Roads buildings were also made seismic resistant after 2015 quake, but the arson attacks on 9 September gutted them.
While many private residential homes built after 2015 continue to flout building codes, municipalities are now stricter. New schools and colleges, hospitals and high rises now have to meet stringent requirements for seismic resistance.
Nepal is a hotspot for many types of disasters — earthquakes, floods, droughts, glacial outbursts, wildfires. These are not ‘natural’ disasters, they are human induced. Earthquakes do not kill people, poorly-built buildings do. Climate breakdown is anthropogenic.&nbsp;
Waiting for a disaster to strike means we have waited too long. Search and rescue readiness are well and good, but much more important is preparedness — seismic resistance structures especially of public buildings, strict zoning to establish open spaces, pre-positioning supplies and simulated drills.
We do not know how much time we have before the next one. But it is not too late to start preparing. &nbsp;
Sonia Awale

Shaken, but not stirred

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

Hotter Himalaya melts glaciers

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

Which way GenZ voters?

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

How much ice must melt before we act?

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

The Himalaya is not fragile

Frontpage topic

Monday, 8 September marked the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">largest single-day, state-led massacre of protesters</a> in Nepal’s recent history. The indiscriminate firing of automatic weapons on the GenZ demonstrators for over three hours killed 21 people. Most were below 28, waiting to fly overseas as migrant workers.
This sparked the violence of the following day that ultimately left 76 people dead. Postmortem reports show that the protesters on 8 September were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/security-forces-targeted-protestors-disproportionately-hrw">shot directly in the chest, head, and abdomen</a>.
During the GenZ protests, the Nepal Army also killed 10 prisoners who were attempting to flee jails. Yet, no one questioned or condemned the Army for taking such lethal measures.
Brutality and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">extrajudicial killings</a> by the security forces are not uncommon in Nepal. They peaked during the Maoist conflict, and recur often. What happened during the GenZ protests was a continuation of culture.
During the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/masochism-in-madhes,563">Madhes Movement in 2015</a>, the K P Oli-led regime was also responsible for more than 50 deaths. Police forces shot and killed 16 people. In Janakpur, a police officer shot and killed a 14-year-old child, Nitu Yadav, at point-blank range while he was trying to hide behind some bushes.&nbsp;
According to witnesses, the masked police officer forced the child to the ground, shot him in the head, and kicked him while shouting, “Shoot this motherf**ker.” No police chiefs were held accountable for these atrocities. The state has still not released the Laal Aayog Report, which investigated <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tikapur-s-protracted-trauma">killings in the Tarai</a>.&nbsp;
In 2026 the Armed Police Force (APF) shot and killed rickshaw driver Bijay Shah in sunsari while he was transporting goods across the border. From 2017 to 2021, at least 22 people died in police custody alone, most of them Madhesi and Dalits.&nbsp;
Police routinely described these deaths as suicides, yet this was never independently verified. In Shah’s case, the APF claimed without evidence that he died in a crossfire. Police institutions continue to function <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">as they did under the Panchayat regime</a>. In the absence of proper investigation, there is impunity and the killings go on.&nbsp;
This lack of accountability means that the Nepali state has normalised killings by its security apparatus. When pressed about shooting protesters outside Parliament in September, Prime Minister KP Oli and Police Chief Chandra Kuber Khapung defended themselves saying, “Bullets do not have eyes.”&nbsp;
There was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">no remorse or empathy</a>, and a refusal to accept responsibility. They failed to acknowledge that the state has a constitutional mandate to protect its citizens, including those accused of crimes.&nbsp;
Those in power routinely shift the blame onto protesters. In reality, police often initiate intimidation and violence at otherwise peaceful protests, as seen on 8 September. According to witnesses, protesters only became agitated after Nepal Police started firing tear gas, and shooting one of the demonstrators.&nbsp;
The Gauri Bahadur Karki Judicial Investigation Commission has not yet filed its report. But there will be justice only when then-Prime Minister KP Oli, Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, and Kathmandu CDO Chhabi Rijal are held accountable for their actions or inaction. But it should not end there -- all police officers involved in the killings must also face justice.&nbsp;
No government or political leader in the past decades has tried to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2809">reform police to end their impunity</a>. Politicians in power and police forces maintain an unspoken, unholy nexus – from the local to the state level. It is a mutual protection arrangement. Those in power rely on the police to maintain their power and even prosecute opponents, while the police depend on them for political patronage.&nbsp;
To be sure, Nepal Police just reflects the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-story-so-far">state of the country’s democracy</a>, as well as its lack of commitment to human rights and the rule of law. Genuine reform and democratisation of the police force is needed to uphold human rights and the Constitution, and increase institutional diversity with greater representation of women, Dalits, Madhesi, indigenous and the traditionally excluded.&nbsp;
The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18719">APF was originally formed </a>to suppress the Maoist armed conflict and is now used to quell public protests. It should be dismantled, and the post of Chief District Officer abolished. &nbsp;
The Office of the Attorney General and the National Human Rights Commission have repeatedly failed to address police killings and torture. A strong independent mechanism is needed to investigate abuses of power and prosecute those responsible.&nbsp;
The argument is that holding police to account will damage their morale. Actually, ending impunity and enforcing accountability would enhance the police’s public image and strengthen the institution, enabling it to maintain law and order without turning into a killing machine.&nbsp;
More importantly, we need to design <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/two-sides-of-the-same-coin">state institutions</a> to be empathetic. Only then will society embody tolerance. If culture of killing is accepted, it fosters violence. This is what happened on 9 September. The mayhem was no coincidence.&nbsp;
Police killings and abuse of power, and their entrenched impunity, have led to mounting public anger towards the state and resentment towards the system. If this continues unchecked, it will threaten the very stability of democracy that these institutions are supposed to safeguard. &nbsp;
Prashanta Khanal is an independent climate and transport policy researcher.&nbsp;

Policing the Police

The Trump administration’s recent announcement of its <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2026/01/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-withdraws-the-united-states-from-international-organizations-that-are-contrary-to-the-interests-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">withdrawal from 66 international organisations</a> has been met with a mixture of alarm and applause. &nbsp;While the headline number suggests a dramatic retreat from the world stage, a closer look reveals a more nuanced, and perhaps more insidious, strategy.&nbsp;
The move is less a wholesale abandonment of the United Nations system and more a targeted pruning of the multilateral vine, aimed at withering specific branches of global cooperation that the administration deems contrary to its interests. While the immediate financial impact may be less than feared, the long-term consequences for the UN and the rules-based international order are profound.
At first glance, the withdrawal appears to be a sweeping rejection of global engagement. <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2026/01/withdrawing-the-united-states-from-international-organizations-conventions-and-treaties-that-are-contrary-to-the-interests-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">The list of targeted entities</a> is long and diverse, ranging from the well-known UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) to more obscure bodies like the International Lead and Zinc Study Group. However, as <a href="https://casquebleu.substack.com/p/unpacking-the-results-of-the-review" target="_blank">Eugene Chen</a> has astutely observed, the reality is more complex.
The vast majority of the UN-related entities on the list are not independent international organisations, but rather subsidiary bodies, funds, and programmes of the UN itself. The administration is not, for now, withdrawing from the UN Charter, but rather selectively defunding and disengaging from the parts of the UN system it finds objectionable.
This selective approach reveals a clear ideological agenda. The targeted entities are overwhelmingly focused on issues that the Trump administration has long disdained: climate change, sustainable development, gender equality, and human rights. The list includes the UN’s main development arm, the Department of Economic and Social Affairs; its primary gender entity, UN Women; and a host of bodies dedicated to peacebuilding and conflict prevention.&nbsp;
The inclusion of the UN’s regional economic commissions, which play a vital role in promoting regional cooperation and development, is particularly telling. This is not simply a cost-cutting exercise; it is a deliberate attempt to dismantle the architecture of global cooperation in areas that do not align with the administration’s narrow, nationalist worldview.
The decision to remain a member of the UN’s specialised agencies, such as the World Health Organization (from which the administration has already announced its withdrawal in a separate action) and the International Atomic Energy Agency, is equally revealing. This is not a sign of a renewed commitment to multilateralism, but rather a cold, calculated decision based on a narrow definition of US national security interests.&nbsp;
The administration has made it clear that it sees these agencies as useful tools to counter the influence of a rising China. This ‘à la carte’ approach to multilateralism, where the US picks and chooses which parts of the system to support based on its own geopolitical interests, is deeply corrosive to the principles of collective security and universal values that underpin the UN Charter.
What, then, should be done? The international community cannot afford to simply stand by and watch as the UN system is hollowed out from within. A concerted effort is needed to mitigate the damage and reaffirm the importance of multilateral cooperation.
First, other member states must step up to fill the financial and leadership void left by the United States. This will require not only increased financial contributions, but also a renewed political commitment to the UN’s work in the areas of sustainable development, climate action, and human rights.&nbsp;
Second, civil society organisations and the academic community have a crucial role to play in monitoring the impact of the US withdrawal and advocating for the continued relevance of the affected UN entities.&nbsp;
Finally, the UN itself must do a better job of communicating its value to a sceptical public. The organisation must move beyond bureaucratic jargon and technical reports to tell a compelling story about how its work makes a real difference in the lives of people around the world.
The Trump administration’s latest move is a stark reminder that the post-war international order can no longer be taken for granted. It is a call to action for all who believe in the power of multilateralism to address our shared global challenges. The UN may be a flawed and imperfect institution, but it remains our best hope for a more peaceful, prosperous, and sustainable world. We must not allow it to wither on the vine.
Jordan Ryan is at the Toda Peace Institute and a former UN Assistant Secretary-General with extensive experience in international peacebuilding, human rights, and development policy.&nbsp;
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2026/the-uns-withering-vine-a-us-retreat-from-global-governance.html">the original</a> with permission.

The UN’s withering vine

Despite funding setbacks, Nepal’s public health sector keeps developing new initiatives to strengthen maternal and newborn health. Two in particular, aimed at improving maternal nutrition and safe delivery, are in the pipeline for 2026.
The first initiative is multiple micronutrient supplementation (MMS) for pregnant women. The MMS will replace the iron and folic acid (IFA) supplements that the government now provides with 15 essential vitamins and minerals, including IFA.
The second plan is to do field research on the use of carbetocin as a drug to prevent post-partum haemmorhage (PPH). This is important because carbetocin is not as heat-sensitive as oxytocin, the current main option for treating PPH. In fact, the new medicine is known as heat-sensitive carbetocin (HSC).
The study is scheduled to start early in the new year. It will be a collaboration between One Heart Worldwide, Ferring Pharmaceuticals and the family welfare division (FWD) of the Department of Health.
A recent study in Nigeria found that health-care providers preferred giving HSC to women delivering babies because it had fewer side-effects and was of higher quality than oxytocin, which was often reported to be degraded by heat or supply-chain issues. The same issues are also barriers in Nepal.
PPH has for decades been one of the leading causes of maternal deaths, in Nepal and globally.
“We are confident that transitioning from IFA to MMS will enable expectant mothers to receive a more comprehensive suite of micronutrients, leading to improved pregnancy outcomes,” says Pooja Pandey Rana, Country Director of Helen Keller International for Bangladesh and Nepal.
The MMS plan is a collaboration between the FWD, the NGO Helen Keller International, Eleanor Crook Foundation, a US-based organisation that funds nutrition work globally, and other development partners.
According to Lili Bikram Thapa, Chief Nutrition Officer at the FWD, they are now preparing a road map for the rolling out of MMS once an assessment is finalised. Meanwhile, Indra Dhoj Kshetri of Helen Keller International said that his organisation is providing technical support to develop the road map.&nbsp;
“We hope that the government will gradually roll out MMS in a few provinces towards the end of this fiscal year July 2026,” said Kshetri, Officer, Africa and Asia Content Marketing, at the organisation.
He added that the partners are now researching possible “issues and bottlenecks” about switching to MMS as well as acceptance of the new supplements by pregnant women. Findings of both analyses are expected in January 2026.
MONEY MATTERS
Another current task, said Kshetri, is trying to get MMS added to Nepal’s essential medicine list (EML). That would reduce its cost. Today, MMS is imported as a food supplement and subject to 30% customs duty. But once on the EML, that duty would drop to about 5%, making it easier on the wallets of development partners and — if the government eventually takes over the programme as planned — on the public purse.
Of course, getting it on the list does not guarantee its availability. As many previous reports have pointed out, including a recent article in NepalNews, local governments have had a hard time keeping all medicines in stock. This would of course also apply to HSC if it is approved for use.
Earlier this year a Micronutrient Survey planned for 2025 was cancelled after USAID shut down.&nbsp;
When asked if it was a good idea to go ahead with MMS if they didn’t know the current state of micronutrients in Nepali diets, Pooja Pandey Rana of Helen Keller International said that while a micronutrient survey would have added useful insights, it is unlikely to have a significant impact on the government’s planned transition to MMS.&nbsp;
“There’s already a body of evidence from the Nepal Demographic and Health Survey and past micronutrient surveys that Nepali women have high levels of micronutrient deficiencies and undernutrition,” she added.
“Prior research consistently shows that MMS leads to better pregnancy outcomes compared to IFA alone. A large body of global evidence reinforces these findings. And therefore, WHO has recommended to include MMS in the antenatal care package. We are confident that transitioning from IFA to MMS will enable expectant mothers to receive a more comprehensive suite of micronutrients, leading to improved pregnancy outcomes.”
The plan is to start rolling out MMS in one province by July 2026.&nbsp;

Safe delivery in 2026

Nepal’s 2022 elections, its second under the federal system, was marked by the disruption in Nepal’s political status quo. Two figures stood out in particular: Balen Shah, whose outsider candidacy transformed urban political imagination, and the Rastriya Swatantra Party under Rabi Lamichhane, which leveraged his extensive media-built credibility to secure unexpected influence within months of its formation.&nbsp;
Their success was not an ideological victory, it was the victory of leaders who presented a vision of leadership that was different from Nepal’s political norm. It was the result of sophisticated public relations, effective message dissemination, and the careful cultivation of the credibility of these forces.&nbsp;
Last week, these once-separate trajectories formally converged as Shah and Lamichhane first joined forces, and within twenty-four hours their alliance expanded further with Kulman Ghising’s Ujjyalo Party. Ghising, who was appointed Minister in Nepal’s post-September interim Cabinet largely due to his public goodwill, has been another public figure whose reputation has been built as much through performance as through perception.&nbsp;
Together, Balen-Rabi-Kulman (BRK) now present themselves as an alternative front to the entrenched Oli–Prachanda–Deuba(OPD) power centre. But as this emerging bloc positions itself as a corrective option to “old politics”, the first substantive glimpse into its internal political behaviour raises important questions. The alliance’s Proportional Representation (PR) list provides an early indicator of priorities.&nbsp;
“The PR list of RSP showcases the utter disrespect for the constitution,” says Shailee Chaudhary, a PR candidate from Gatisheel Loktantrik Party. “It reveals that RSP at its core is an opportunistic clique instead of a political party. For them the PR list became a corporate takeover for their investors and brand ambassadors.”&nbsp;
Prospective candidates were reportedly required to pay Rs50,000 to have their names included, and the resulting roster reads less like a reflection of Nepal’s diverse social fabric and more like an inventory of recognised public figures.&nbsp;
The party’s explanation for the Rs50,000 fee requirement was that it has been raised to ensure that candidates are well off enough to not engage in corruption. But Mangpahang says this defense implies that corruption is exclusive to the poor.&nbsp;
“The PR system of RSP has been captured by elites,” says Yajaswi Mangpahang, President of Youth Congress Nepal. “The fact that one had to be affluent to be considered in the list is exclusionary.”
Mangpahang compares the PR selection process of the RSP to the Nepali Congress. The NC has exploited the PR list, she says, but the party has at the least understood the essence of the system, and why it exists.
“Nepal’s diversity, its socio-economic and political history, as well as where we are now must be understood by politicians,” she adds.&nbsp;
POLITICS OR POPULARITY CONTEST?
Actors, singers, pageant winners to business personalities and athletes in RSP’s PR list have positioned themselves as representatives of marginalised communities from dalit, adhiwasi janajati, and khas-arya communities. Notable names include: singer Prakash Saput (Dalit), actress Reema Bishwokarma (Dalit Woman), former Miss Nepal Anushka Shrestha (Adhivasi Woman), executive director of Goldstar shoes Vidhusi Rana (Khas-Arya Woman) and the once formidable contender for KMC mayoral race, Ranju Darshana (Khas Arya-Woman).&nbsp;
“The legal benchmarks of the representations are met but there is no clarity of principle in the list,” says Mangpahang.
Rather than reimagining representation, RSP’s PR list appears to extend the same reliance on visibility and public appeal that has driven the BRK’s rise so far. Reducing politics to communication tactics and profile-building not only trivialises governance, it fundamentally distorts the purpose of the proportional representation system, which was designed to broaden inclusion, not as a stage to curate and amplify personalities with pre-existing social capital.&nbsp;
“The inclusion of already established figures in the PR list meant for marginalised communities is evidence of intellectual and moral poverty,” says Chaudhary. “It signals that their approach is 100% about marketing and 0% about representation. They are not building a party, they are merging fan clubs, they confuse social media trends with grassroots movements and celebrity recognition with democratic legitimacy.”
Indeed, this strategy is akin to the dynamics of social media, where visibility translates directly into political currency. Shah’s politics has been inseparable from his online persona, carefully crafted through bold declarations, poetic nationalism, and viral digital performance. Lamichhane’s rise, meanwhile, is rooted in years of television-driven credibility, now amplified through algorithmic circulation that rewards outrage, emotional immediacy, and charismatic confrontation over deliberative politics.&nbsp;
The BRK project exemplifies how Nepali politics is increasingly being shaped by algorithmic culture. Platforms such as Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube don’t simply reflect political sentiment; they actively shape it by privileging sensationalism, conflict, and personality-driven storytelling. Their political momentum is therefore less a reflection of ideological consolidation and more a product of digital mobilisation, where “followers” begin to substitute party structures, and engagement metrics are mistaken for mass legitimacy.&nbsp;
In such an ecosystem, leaders who can command attention are rewarded more than those who can articulate policy. Indeed, political power in Nepal is increasingly determined by who commands the loudest applause, especially online. This risks reducing democracy to an algorithmic popularity contest: noisy and charismatic, but ultimately no different from the legacy political figures, just with a new facade.&nbsp;
“In the long run this subverts the constitution rendering its core components meaningless. It kills the spirit of inclusive democracy, it also erases marginalised voices, pushing the voices of women, Dalit, adivasi janajati and other marginalised groups and reduces politics to a spectator sport,” adds Chaudhary. “It teaches voters that politics is about cheering for individual heroes, not about advocating for communities or ideologies.”
Political legitimacy online may appear like that people and the leader are interacting, directly in touch with one another, but to pursue popularity over policy-driven politics is to avoid facing the public. What the RSP has done now is to make a safety valve for elites so that they do not actively interact with the people.&nbsp;
“To run an election is to have guts, you must have an understanding of your constituency, you must have a vision, and it is a gamble,” says Mangpahang.&nbsp;
When political legitimacy becomes increasingly tethered to personal popularity and digital visibility, it risks sidelining individuals who possess competence, policy expertise, and grassroots understanding, because they lack comparable social capital.&nbsp;
If the system rewards recognition over representation, leadership opportunities go to those embedded in media and celebrity ecosystems. This could consolidate power and perpetuate the marginalisation of communities who are structurally disenfranchised from politics.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

RSP’s PR list is not good PR

As the Global North turns inward, foreign aid has become an easy target. The decimation of the US Agency for International Development (USAID) has dominated headlines, but the UK and many Europeans have also cut foreign-aid budgets.&nbsp;
Policymakers in these countries view this spending as a form of charity, and think that bolstering their economic and military might can deliver more benefits for more people.
This is short-sighted. It recalls the great-power ambitions of the 19th and early 20th centuries that culminated in two world wars. The global governance architecture that emerged from this unprecedented tragedy initially focused on responding to reconstruction and humanitarian needs, before turning to development.&nbsp;
Despite its flaws, this approach helped lift more than one billion people out of extreme poverty and build stable and thriving economies around the world.
The global health system built with funding from the US, the UK, and others &nbsp;reduced infectious disease rates and health inequalities, creating a safer and more secure world. Five years ago, this system was instrumental in detecting Covid-19, tracking its spread, and mobilising a global response.
But Covid-19 also illustrated how poorer countries and households are caught in an inequality-pandemic cycle. Contrary to claims that the Global North gives too much aid and receives too little in return, it is the Global South that is getting the bad deal.&nbsp;
After compiling and analysing hundreds of peer-reviewed studies, the Global Council on Inequality, AIDS and Pandemics found that poor and marginalised people struggle to access health services during disease outbreaks, leaving them more susceptible to infection, illness, and death. Viruses and other contagions prey on these vulnerabilities, turning outbreaks into epidemics, and epidemics into pandemics, which deepen inequalities and reinforce the cycle.
In the early days of Covid-19, this inequality-pandemic cycle was on display in Global North countries. White-collar professionals worked safely from home, thanks to high-speed internet and teleconferencing platforms, whereas small businesses and factories closed, throwing blue-collar workers into financial crisis. In these countries, the pandemic hit low-income and minority communities the hardest.
The unequal impact of the pandemic was also felt between countries. Vaccines were developed in record time – the result of a remarkable multilateral investment in strategic industries – but high-income countries purchased most of them, and then refused to share excess doses with the developing world. This vaccine hoarding caused more than one million deaths and cost the global economy an estimated $2.3 trillion.
The same pattern played out in the early response to the AIDS pandemic. At the end of the 20th century, effective antiretroviral drugs became available in the Global North. But AIDS continued to kill hundreds of thousands of people in the Global South, and especially in Sub-Saharan Africa.&nbsp;
In 2002, fewer than one million people living with HIV had access to antiretrovirals, whereas more than 30 million do today, expanding access to treatment has so far saved an estimated 26 million lives. And, before the recent foreign-aid cuts, the world could have achieved its goal of ending AIDS as a public health threat by 2030.
The decades-long journey to end AIDS has underscored the importance of investing in health systems, medical research, and vaccine and drug production. It has highlighted that people’s living conditions determine their well-being.
GOING VIRAL
In 1996, Botswana, which was hit particularly hard by the AIDS pandemic, effectively added a year of secondary school to its public education system. This created a natural, population-level experiment on the effect of schooling on the risk of HIV infection.&nbsp;
An analysis of huge cohorts of young people who went to school under the old system and the new system found that each additional year of schooling reduced a young person’s risk of HIV infection by 8.1%. This protective effect was strongest among women, whose risk of contracting HIV decreased by 11.6% for each additional year of school.
Building fairer societies leads to healthier populations that are better prepared to react to disease outbreaks and prevent pandemics. By contrast, defunding public education, slashing social safety nets, imposing tariffs, closing borders, cutting foreign aid, and disengaging from multilateral cooperation will widen inequalities, fuel political instability, accelerate economic migration, and create the conditions for viruses to thrive.
This is evident in Ukraine, where an over-burdened health-care system has accelerated the spread of drug-resistant infections through war-torn communities. Meanwhile, outbreaks of Ebola, mpox, measles, and Marburg are on the rise, partly owing to globalisation and climate change.&nbsp;
Weakening the global health system will enable these outbreaks to fester and spread, taking lives, deepening inequalities, and destabilising societies. Experts are already warning that cuts to US programs (including those delivered by USAID) could lead to a 400% increase in AIDS deaths by 2029.
The abiding lesson of pandemics is that no one is safe until everyone is safe. Building walls and shutting out the world will not protect people. The only way to do that is by reducing inequalities and investing in the global health. Cooperation is the ultimate act of self-interest. &nbsp;© Project Syndicate
Winnie Byanyima is Executive Director of UNAIDS and an under-secretary-general at the United Nations. Michael Marmot is Director of the Institute of Health Equity and Professor of Epidemiology at University College London.

Protectionism will not protect against pandemics

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

NT #1291

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

Time, transience, transition

The slow, arduous labour of democracy rarely announces itself with the fanfare of constitutional moments. &nbsp;It proceeds instead through committee rooms, ward meetings, half-attended assemblies, the awkward choreography of speech and silence, and the everyday compromises between aspiration and constraint.&nbsp; The book Nepal’s Federalism and the Pursuit of Deliberative Democracy attends precisely to this unglamorous terrain. In it, Vishnu Kumari Tandon does not ask whether democracy is desirable — an already settled question — but whether it can be made to think, to listen, and to endure under conditions of inequality, historical fracture, and institutional novelty.&nbsp; Her wager is modest yet demanding: that federalism, when tethered to participatory planning and deliberative fors, might recalibrate the relationship between state and citizen without promising redemption. Tandon’s Nepal is neither a site of democratic salvation nor a study in failure. It is a space of trial, where ideas migrate from constitutional text to municipal practice, altered by context, power, and expectation. Democracy here appears not as an ideal form but as a situated practice -- procedural, contested, and unfinished.&nbsp; The book’s quiet achievement lies in redirecting debates on deliberative democracy away from abstract normativity and toward the ethical friction of lived institutions. Federalism arrives in Nepal not as a technocratic reform but as a historical concession, wrested from conflict, exclusion, and prolonged political unrest. Tandon, who is a governance consultant at the World Bank, situates the 2015 Constitution within this unsettled genealogy, treating federalism less as an administrative innovation than as a moral response to longstanding claims of marginalisation.&nbsp; The constitutional recognition of local autonomy is thus freighted with ethical expectation. Yet the book refuses to equate decentralisation with empowerment. Federalism, Tandon insists, redistributes power without dissolving hierarchy. Domination may simply reappear closer to home. The central question, therefore, is not whether local governments exist, but how they govern: whether institutionalised participation genuinely alters the terms on which citizens speak, decide, and contest public priorities. Federalism emerges not as a stable structure but as a field of tension—between autonomy and dependence, inclusion and capture, aspiration and capacity. It is within this unstable terrain that the democratic experiment unfolds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127090120_62bd86d5cbb0dc9d199b797b2c90a5be37213b6c9236f79220706469cd3689a0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127090120_62bd86d5cbb0dc9d199b797b2c90a5be37213b6c9236f79220706469cd3689a0" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Vishnu Kumari Tandon"> <figcaption>Vishnu Kumari Tandon</figcaption> </figure>  UNEQUAL SKIES&nbsp; Participation, one of democracy’s most invoked terms, often risks conceptual exhaustion. Tandon restores its weight by treating participation as labour rather than ritual. Drawing on fieldwork in Buddhabhumi and Dhanushadham municipalities, she reconstructs the choreography of local planning: assemblies, committees, and councils through which proposals circulate, stall, or vanish. Participation here is unevenly distributed. It is shaped by gendered expectations, caste hierarchies, economic precarity, and anticipations of return. Attendance becomes a calculation rather than a civic reflex. This analytical attention to motivation marks one of the book’s strengths.&nbsp; Citizens participate not out of abstract virtue but through pragmatic reasoning, moral obligation, and strategic interest. Participation thus appears neither ennobling nor cynical, but politically intelligible. If participation concerns presence, deliberation concerns voice — and, crucially, whose voice matters. Tandon’s engagement with deliberative democratic theory is respectful yet revisionist. Habermasian ideals of reasoned consensus are treated as aspirational rather than portable, strained by structural inequality. In municipal assemblies, deliberation is patterned by authority: who speaks first, who commands attention, whose claims are legitimised. Marginalised citizens may be present without influence, audible without consequence. Deliberation risks becoming procedural affirmation rather than substantive redistribution of voice. Yet Tandon does not abandon deliberation as a democratic practice. Instead, she broadens its normative horizon. Drawing on second-generation deliberative theory, she legitimises emotion, self-interest, and strategic speech as components of democratic reasoning. Deliberation becomes a contested exchange rather than a purified rationality. The common good, if it appears, emerges provisionally: negotiated rather than presumed. One of the book’s most original contributions lies in its treatment of fiscal decentralisation. Money is not merely a resource but a language through which priorities are articulated and participation structured. The devolution of budgetary authority transforms deliberation into distributive politics. Citizens attend assemblies not simply to speak but to secure roads, water systems, clinics, schools. Voice is tethered to material expectation. This proximity intensifies engagement while sharpening conflict. Fiscal autonomy thus amplifies the stakes of deliberation without guaranteeing its equity. Local representatives emerge as paradoxical figures: empowered yet constrained, accountable yet insulated. Tandon resists binary judgments, showing instead how fiscal decentralisation deepens democratic possibility while exposing institutional fragility. Threaded through the book is a sustained interrogation of the ‘common good’. Revered in theory and suspect in practice, the concept is neither discarded nor sanctified. In unequal societies, appeals to the common good can obscure asymmetries of sacrifice. Empirically, deliberation proceeds through articulated self-interests: neighbourhood demands, caste claims, gendered priorities. Far from undermining democracy, these claims animate it. Self-interest becomes deliberation’s motor rather than its negation. The book thus advances a quiet ethical argument: democracy does not require the transcendence of interest, but its articulation under conditions of mutual visibility. The common good, if it exists, is emergent, fragile, and revisable. Institutions, for Tandon, are moral technologies. Laws mandate participation, but they cannot generate trust, courage, or equality. Procedural compliance may coexist with substantive exclusion. Yet repetition matters. Even imperfect fora can cultivate habits of speaking and being heard. Deliberative democracy, the book suggests, is not an event but a discipline, learned slowly, unevenly, and reversibly. Federalism is less a solution than a condition: one that opens space for democratic learning without securing its outcome. Firmly grounded in Nepal’s political history, the book resists parochialism. Nepal functions as a mirror, reflecting broader dilemmas of democratic deepening across unequal societies. Comparative resonances with Brazil, India, and donor-driven governance reforms are handled without formula or prescription. Nepal is neither an exemplar nor an exception. It is a site where democracy reveals its ordinary difficulties. The prose mirrors the argument: careful, analytic, resistant to grand claims. What lingers is not a verdict but a sensibility: an attentiveness to democracy’s tempo. Deliberative democracy appears less as consensus achieved than as disagreement sustained without rupture. In an age of democratic impatience, Tandon offers a quieter ethic. Democracy must be allowed to think slowly, to falter, and to learn. This book stands as a thoughtful companion to that discipline, reminding us that democratic transformation often occurs far from the centre, in places where speaking itself remains an achievement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127090112_4bd0fdb8c4ef4e44c21e9cba4ae63a8481ca1d61bb20f716b29f649bcdf1a4bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260127090112_4bd0fdb8c4ef4e44c21e9cba4ae63a8481ca1d61bb20f716b29f649bcdf1a4bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Federalism book details NT"> </figure>  Aftab Husain is a Pakistan-born poet and literary and cultural critic. He teaches South Asian literature and culture at the University of Vienna.

Nepal’s slow grammar of democracy

A mighty metal bird, ‘Heron on Hunt’ spreads its wings and unhinges its mouth hungrily. It looks down at ‘The Defending Crab,’ which has windshield wipers for legs and opens its pincers defiantly at the heron, daring it to attack. The crab shell is made of a ceiling fan, the blades of which have been cut up to form the bird’s wings. “The story is that you are what you eat,” says artist <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/artist-in-studio-9-metamorphosis-by-saurab-koirala/" target="_blank">Saurab Koirala</a>, whose solo exhibition ‘<a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/artist-in-studio-9-metamorphosis-by-saurab-koirala/" target="_blank">Metamorphosis</a>’ at <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/archiving-for-the-future-an-intersection-of-heritage-and-architecture/" target="_blank">Taragaon Next </a>has sculptures made of material retrieved from garbage warehouses. Koirala was in the studio when protestors ransacked the adjacent Hyatt Hotel on 9 September. The windows of the iconic museum designed by <a href="https://www.archdaily.com/957728/carl-pruscha-an-architect-investigating-overlooked-territories" target="_blank">architect Carl Pruscha</a> in the 1960s were all shattered, but the studio survived. He used the broken glass to make fins for his fish sculptures and wings for insects.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012409010_0c6c0f6d69472940e1c623db7bae62235a18ded418066b1c8ecc89485d76dcd4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026012409010_0c6c0f6d69472940e1c623db7bae62235a18ded418066b1c8ecc89485d76dcd4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Saurab Koirala exhibition Taragaon Next NT"></figure>  Metamorphosis is a reference to the transformation of trash into art, but it is also fitting because many of the repurposed items are of insects: a firefly, a dung beetle, a spider, a dragonfly, a queen ant. The most striking are the pair of praying mantises, the smaller one is black, made of windshield wipers, and the larger grey one is made of a motorcycle silencer, bicycle parts, and a fluorescent tube holder. About the unrealistic size difference, Koirala notes that each piece is made of a component that defines its size. For the larger grey mantis, the defining piece is the silencer that makes up its torso. “The mantises are mating,” Koirala explains. “The female mantis will cannibalise the male afterwards, and the dragonfly witnesses the whole scene.” It is possible to look at each installation and immediately recognise what it is meant to be, but on looking closer we see what the parts are made of, and how. The exhibition is from Koirala’s Taragaon Next residency program sponsored by the Saraf Foundation.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012409010_35d47a71c3e357d4cdba166cdcbf37019639c68a3d69a158f19fe97ea48065ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2026012409010_35d47a71c3e357d4cdba166cdcbf37019639c68a3d69a158f19fe97ea48065ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Saurab Koirala exhibition Taragaon Next NT"></figure>  Koirala thinks of himself as primarily a painter and a caricature artist, and not a sculptor. His mother was a teacher, and would make miniature animals, gods, houses for her students. “Seeing how happy she was doing that made me want to do it too, although she did not want me to be an artist,” Koirala recalls. Some of his mother’s creations are also on display at the exhibition. Koirala got more experience working with 3D models digitally in his work at Incessant Rain animation studio, especially animals. This seems to have given him strong visualisation skills that he has put to use in the art pieces, using minimal bending and cutting. Koirala participated in the WastArt Competition in 2018, where his Danphe sculpture made from colourful coke and soda cans was so striking that it became a part of the permanent collection at the Sagarmatha Next Art Gallery in Syangboche. Koirala worked in the studio in Khumbu, fashioning yaks and bees out of trekking trash.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012409010_253578bca93f136dca51102fc03a675cc3a8f47ba0b2d31ae2a4020c2c6e7485.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026012409010_253578bca93f136dca51102fc03a675cc3a8f47ba0b2d31ae2a4020c2c6e7485" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Saurab Koirala exhibition Taragaon Next NT"></figure>  “My back hurts,” he grimaces as he opens the doors to the studio, an unassuming shed a short walk from the exhibition which is littered with metal spare parts for future art. He has gone through three whole bicycles with a power saw. Koirala seems to want to alter the scrap as little as possible, and it is uncanny how well some of it fits the pieces. The aerodynamic curved fuel tank of a Bajaj Avenger motorcycle becomes the abdomen of a gigantic queen ant. A mosquito repellent becomes the green body of a spider. A stapler and a coconut turn into a snail. The steel legs of a rolling office chair curve exactly into the legs and paws of a fox in motion. “I did not want the animals to be in static poses. I wanted to capture dynamic movement,” says Koirala. Fittingly, most of the parts he has chosen have come from vehicles: bicycles, motorcycles, scooters, car horns, air filters. While Koirala’s work in his Sagarmatha Next residency was about waste encroaching into nature in the mountains, his work in Metamorphosis is a nostalgic memory of a happy childhood in Biratnagar. ‘There used to be abundant dragonflies in my hometown,’ writes Koirala in his description. “As kids, we would catch them and tie threads to their tails and fly them like kites.” The message about the degradation of nature is more valid than ever. The world is seeing the mass extinction of insects, and uncontrolled urbanisation of polluted Kathmandu Valley means only ants and some spiders survive. Artist in Studio #9: <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/events/artist-in-studio-9-metamorphosis-by-saurab-koirala/" target="_blank">Metamorphosis</a> <a href="https://taragaonnext.com/" target="_blank">Taragaon Next</a> Till 30 January 10AM-5:30PM

Turning trash into sculptures

This is the 81st 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 went to Australia in 2008 because everyone was headed there. It was my first time leaving the country and my first job. My college helped me find work as a kitchen helper at a Brisbane restaurant.&nbsp; I did not know that being a kitchen helper meant washing dishes. I was young and did not know how to wash dishes or how to handle the steam, the hot water, and the busy kitchen. The utensils were thrown at the dishwashing station continuously, and water splashed on my face. My shoes and clothes were always wet. It was an on-call job. A couple of days into the job, I was asked to come in when I was at the movies. I refused. They fired me. That was that. I then worked on a farm, picking lemons and oranges. The lemon work was particularly hard because I would get cuts all over my hands. This hustle was not for me.&nbsp; Within a year in Australia, I decided to return to Nepal because the foreign life did not suit me. After spending eight months in Nepal, reality sank in. Nepal was not all that great either. I went back to Australia. On the plane, I befriended a Nepali woman who was homesick and a first time traveler. At the immigration in Australia, the officer noticed my long absence and started interrogating me. He noticed the Nepali woman waiting for me and asked who she was. Without thinking I lied that she was my girlfriend. That seemed to do the trick because he did not want us to be separated. He stamped my passport. She went her way. I went mine.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260127130112_5e7bfa6acc5f94d5f1905537e387c2d4169469679ace2b71de368912f3bd514f" data-rendition-name="original" width="987" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81 NT"> </figure>  In Sydney, I again found a dishwashing job at a fine dining restaurant. A Sri Lankan colleague helped me learn the job. The pace at which I had to do the dishes was insane but I got the hang of it in two weeks. I always dreamt of one day wearing the chef’s white coat. It commanded respect, I could tell. In addition to becoming good at my job washing dishes, I also had good language and networking skills so I built good relationships with colleagues. There was a need for a pizza chef at the restaurant. It was expensive to hire someone new, and they asked me if I was up for the job. I said yes even though I knew nothing about making pizzas. My Italian colleagues coached me and before I knew it, I became better than others at the job. Soon, I realised that I did not just want to make pizzas. Whatever I wanted to learn, I just asked seniors to take me under their wings and I would help without pay. They would agree but still pay me. It wasn’t a strategy per se, I genuinely wanted to learn. At some point, a Japanese sous chef in my restaurant and I had coincidentally applied to the same restaurant, and there, under him, I got to learn even more. Working with a Japanese chef is really difficult, but you learn a lot. He would sometimes even hold my hand with tongs dipped in hot water when I screwed something up. I worked in a few restaurants after this and was earning well. When one of my colleagues, a dishwasher, was let go unfairly, I decided to leave because I did not want to be a quiet bystander to this act. I returned to Nepal immediately after this.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012719010_f33ba38bb5f86f1d33262fd0d7ccd09ed01f6cc52148ca3d4cd66c434b695730" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 82"> </figure>  I started a restaurant called Ghumti, but it was struggling. The location of the restaurants was not good and it failed. I bought another restaurant in Darbar Marg. I was managing two restaurants when Covid hit. The rent kept piling up, and there was no revenue. I took a huge loss. I gave them up and returned to Chitwan and started making migration plans. I came across a job vacancy for Alba in Qatar by the famous Enrico Crippa. I still remember the heat when I got out of the airport in Doha, it was like entering an oven. Thankfully, I had a Nepali roommate who showed me around and helped me adjust.&nbsp; The hotel was still under construction, but training had started. We worked really hard for the opening and things went well. In 2023, we even won the Best MENA Restaurant award. But at some point in 2024, the international Crippa chain decided to leave.&nbsp; Some colleagues including the head chef left and I suddenly was put in charge. I had some head chef experience from Australia and had previous experience working in high pressure environments, so I stepped up. We had to start from scratch again, this time as Alba in Raffles, Doha.&nbsp; The name of our restaurant comes from the Alba white truffle, which is the best available and is expensive, selling at around 40,000 QAR per kg. We had heard the official announcement that the Michelin was coming to Qatar, and we worked even harder.&nbsp; Michelin inspections are strict, highly secretive and you have no idea you are being investigated. Even then, we were up for the game. We were ‘selected’ which meant we had potential.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026012719010_bab3a904af69603e9e79f333aeea89b035401c0c8d1750930107f3594ff1f565" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="697" loading="lazy" alt="DD 81"> </figure>  I went to the award ceremony with low expectations. But because they announce the name alphabetically, Alba came first. I was very happy and felt validated. Being recognised as a Michelin one star restaurant is a huge achievement for us. My MD reminded me of a promise I had made of getting a Michelin tattoo if we got the award. I guess I will get it done when I come to Nepal next. My plan is to get a tattoo that captures my journey right from the dishwashing days.&nbsp; I have cooked for Obama, Beckham, Kaka, Trump, 50 Cent, Lindsay Lohan, you name it, because our restaurant is visited by high profile guests. At first, I used to feel the pressure. Now I view all guests as the same. The food you make is the same no matter who is eating it. I love the work. In fact, it does not feel like work. The rush in the kitchen, the atmosphere, the heat, the scent, I live for it. When I am not working, I get bored. It is like an addiction without which I get withdrawals. I want to contribute in introducing Nepali cuisine and ingredients in the worldstage. Nepalis overseas have a lot of potential in the hospitality sector. But my advice to youth is to focus on building a strong base and invest in learning. It is increasingly common for Nepalis to job hop for a salary jump. While other skills like language are also important, it is the hard skills that we really need to focus on. In our field of work, it is the plate that needs to speak.

Sky is the limit

The Kathmandu Valley has attracted an exceptional number of outstanding and accomplished foreigners over the decades, but few as extraordinary as Marilyn Silverstone (1929-1999).&nbsp; Frances Klatzel’s book A Portrait of Ourselves, Marilyn Silverstone: From Photojournalist to Buddhist Nun, is a fitting and fascinating biographical celebration of this American woman whose life of unusual choices took her, as the title suggests, from an affluent Jewish childhood in Scarsdale, New York to becoming an acclaimed and adventurous Magnum photographer.&nbsp; Roving the world, her camera captured many of the most iconic events of the 20th century, her images were published in Time, Life, Newsweek, Look, National Geographic, Paris Match, Vogue and other magazines. Following the teachings of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, Marilyn Silverstone devoted the last twenty years of her eventful life to living quietly and practising Buddhism in Nepal. Ordained as a Buddhist nun, she took vows in the sanctified Solukhumbu precincts of Thubten Choling with Venerable Trulshik Rinpoche in the spring of 1977. Living in Kathmandu until her death in Shechen Monastery, which she helped create, Marilyn wrote: ‘When I look back over the years, although I did not know it at the time, ending my life as a Buddhist nun was logical and inevitable.’&nbsp; Ani Marilyn was a familiar figure amid the sacred spaces of the Valley, the lanes of Boudha and even Kathmandu’s drawing rooms during my early years in Nepal, a large smiling presence draped in maroon robes, dyed sneakers, slightly whiskered, robust.&nbsp; As a wedding gift she gave Tenzin and I an inscribed copy of her slim volume, Ocean of Life, aptly named for the span of her achievements and expansive embrace – editor, translator, writer, filmmaker, photographer, journalist and Buddhist nun. Marilyn’s nephew wrote: ‘Her legacy was that she was always herself no matter what chapter of her life that she was living.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_70d489c3d161f59668f315ede60cbb213d365357b0a9f2d7aad3b537a14dcb5e.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260122100124_70d489c3d161f59668f315ede60cbb213d365357b0a9f2d7aad3b537a14dcb5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1164" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Ani Marilyn"> <figcaption>Ani Marilyn as a Tibetan Buddhist nun at Shechen Monastery in Boudha.</figcaption> </figure>  Working with a wide range of impeccable sources, Frances Klatzel has assembled first-hand the personal recollections and unsparing insights from Marilyn’s most intimate friends. One of these, Jane Abell Coon, wrote the Introduction. She was a well-known person in 1980s Kathmandu whose husband Carlton Coon served as American Ambassador to Nepal and she simultaneously as American Ambassador in Bangladesh.&nbsp; The book begins with a rare message from the 14th Dalai Lama and a touching Foreword by Venerable Rabjam Rinpoche. It ends with exquisite excerpts from a Buddhist religious tract that Marilyn had translated from its traditional Tibetan text. Marilyn’s initial trip to India was to photograph Ravi Shankar in 1955, the classical sitar maestro. Increasingly fascinated by ‘the complex and compassionate culture’ of Tibet, her Himalayan archives include images throughout India, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan.&nbsp; The first internationally accredited photojournalist to base herself in India, from 1959 Marilyn lived in Bombay then Delhi, with her lifelong partner Frank Moraes, the Goan journalist, writer, commentator and first Indian editor of the Times of India after Independence. INDIAN INFLUENCERS I remember being taken to meet the legendary Frank Moraes in 1973, by then politically exiled in Marilyn’s elegant but chaotic London house, a magnet for South Asian intellectuals. She was not there, but Frank’s son the poet Dom Moraes was slumped desultory on a sagging sofa. My impression of Frank was well-dressed, polite and slightly distracted. Marilyn’s talent for friendship and wide network of Indian influencers and princely connections gave her unique access to historic events, as well as recording refugees, rituals, droughts, floods, famines and funerals. In addition to maharajahs and global leaders, her images portray personal moments, ordinary people, unflinching pain and flashes of joy. She said: ‘In my job, the closer you get to people, the better off you are.’ This book is illustrated with a thrilling trove of pictures of and by Marilyn, many of which reflect the impact of Henri Cartier-Bresson who signed her up as one of the first women to join his prestigious Magnum photo cooperative.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_6dfdef41da5945aea0a8bbd8c1514af5de2adb36361d4e20c29914c59f2039e0.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100124_6dfdef41da5945aea0a8bbd8c1514af5de2adb36361d4e20c29914c59f2039e0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2124" height="1404" loading="lazy" alt="Ani Marilyn"> </figure>  Her assignments ranged across warzones in Vietnam, the Shah of Iran’s coronation, and Russian tanks rolling into Prague. Marilyn’s 1960s involved constant travel, her Magnum beat was the ‘Far East’, from Pakistan and Bangladesh to China, Korea, and Japan.&nbsp; With a knack at being in the right place at the right time, Marilyn was the only western woman journalist to record the arrival from Lhasa into ‘safety and exile’ of the young Dalai Lama in 1959. She was at Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s funeral in Delhi, the Chogyal of Sikkim’s marriage to Hope Cooke, and with Jacqueline Kennedy on a small boat at the Lake Palace of Udaipur.&nbsp; Marilyn snapped the Pope giving blessings in Bombay, Mother Teresa attending to the poor, and the Beatles on their way to meet the Maharishi. With Frank, she travelled to Africa and shot Emperor Haile Selassie in Ethiopia, Nigeria’s independence celebrations, and a very old and solar-topied Dr Albert Schweitzer in his jungle hospital in Gabon.&nbsp; A Portrait of Ourselves, Marilyn Silverstone: From Photojournalist to Buddhist Nun, is a highly recommended tribute to an inspirational life, told with discerning honesty and private perceptions by those who knew her best.&nbsp; Her monastic years living in Nepal continued to feature travel, hard work, undiminished curiosity, dogged fights for right, uncompromising support for others, disdain for conformity and battles with ill health, but all with her characteristic good humour. Marilyn leaves us with some sound advice in her own words: “I can say that I did it all. The secret though is just keep walking through life without analysing it too much or clinging to it too much. Just walk on.” &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100140_dc0c465e462bd14e92b2a2e79b5349f23fa039bcda81cc02a9a70adbcee35c7b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100140_dc0c465e462bd14e92b2a2e79b5349f23fa039bcda81cc02a9a70adbcee35c7b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="marilyn silverstone"> </figure>

“Just walk on”

Leaked letters from Korea’s Unification Church have revealed its extensive involvement in buying political and media influence worldwide, including links to Nepal’s parties and politicians. Documents obtained by the <a href="https://newstapa.org/eng">Korean Centre for Investigative Journalism</a> (Newstapa) and <a href="https://dunia-asia.org/leaked-true-mother-report-exposes-unification-church-influence-in-nepal-and-north-korea-outreach/">Dunia</a> contain correspondence to and from the controversial religious movement whose leader, 82-year-old <a href="https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/southkorea/politics/20251216/explainer-who-is-han-hak-ja-true-mother-at-center-of-unification-church-scandals">Hak Ja Han</a>, is currently on trial in Seoul for allegedly bribing the wife and associates of disgraced former president Yoon Suk Yeol.&nbsp; The letters and direct messages referenced in the investigation mention three former prime ministers: Madhav Kumar Nepal who has now joined the Nepali Communist Party, K P Oli of the Communist Party of Nepal UML (Unified Marxist-Leninist), and former Maoist ideologue Baburam Bhattarai.&nbsp; The documents detail financial support from the Unification Church (now known as Family Federation for World Peace and Unification) to Nepal Paribar Dal (Nepal Family Party) and its founder <a href="https://reviewnepal.com/national/dhakal-reelected-as-chair-of-pariwar-dal.html">Ek Nath Dhakal,</a> who is a staunch ally of the UML. On Sunday, Dhakal signed an MoU with K P Oli of the UML to cooperate in the March election and beyond. The leaked correspondence concerning Nepal spans the period between the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/elections-of-by-for-men,4038">first federal elections in 2017</a> till the 2022 polls and contains emails between Dhakal and Yong Jeong Shik, Regional President for Asia of the Unification Church, with urgent requests for funds for campaigning and to support the UML.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260124080120_63bb0a555b9f0676b1301b7a71e9cefda7f3eb69e5fa0ff1249a1bbeec0c17bf.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260124080120_63bb0a555b9f0676b1301b7a71e9cefda7f3eb69e5fa0ff1249a1bbeec0c17bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="598" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  ‘Regarding funding, I am truly sorry, but a minimum of $500,000 is required,’ one of the messages to Yong in the report says. ‘Furthermore, as the election is scheduled for December 7th [2017], I would be very grateful if I could receive it as soon as possible. The initial $500,000 was used for overall election expenses, and the additional $500,000 is intended for campaign activities for the Family Party and supporting key leaders.’ In addition, there are also letters requesting an additional $20,000 per month in ‘maintenance costs for the Nepal Family Party and preparations for the<a href="http://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-parties-forge-new-pre-poll-alliances"> 2022 election</a>’.&nbsp; Asked for a reaction to the allegations, Govinda Nath Mishra of the Nepal Paribar Party said: “This is an unnecessary smear campaign against our party. Parties doing good work are always linked to some foreign powers in Nepal to discredit them.” Ek Nath Dhakal has also denied that his party’s affiliation with the UML has anything to do with Unification Church donations. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-movement-in-Nepal,2962">He told Nepali Times in an interview in 2016</a>: “The party has links to all faiths, as it has with the unification movement. The Nepal Family Party is a kind of conservative party with a manifesto that promotes family values, interfaith dialogue and harmony. There are 11 political parties supporting Prime Minister Oli. Nepal Family Party is just one of them.” <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FMcGp_Mn4fwA%3Fsi%3DM3bVjAnbnelwKwAl&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> In another update to Yong, Dhakal describes the UML’s election campaign in 2017 as ‘proceeding very successfully … it appears certain the Unified Marxist-Leninist will achieve a landslide victory’. Dhakal was not contesting directly as a candidate, but piggybacking on the UML <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/house-of-cards-6alq6pvi">which had put him on the proportional representation list</a>, ostensibly in return for campaign financing. He continues: ‘It is certain that I will be elected as a proportional representation member of the National Assembly due to a shortage of female candidates. I discussed the possibility of my election with Prime Minister Madhav and Prime Minister K P Oli … both have confirmed that I could be moved from 5th place [on the PR list] to 1st or 2nd if necessary.’&nbsp; Ek Nath Dhakal became Minister of Poverty Alleviation and Cooperatives under Prime Minister Baburam Bhattarai in 2012 and in 2016 Minister of peace and Reconstruction under the K P oli government.&nbsp; During his tenure, Dhakal organised an ‘<a href="http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2018-12/01/c_137644390.htm">Asia-Pacific Summit 2018</a>’ in Kathmandu presided over by Hak Ja Han, wife of Rev Sun Myung Moon, founder of the Unification Church and Universal Peace Federation (UPF). The couple are known in the movement as ‘True Parents’ and Hak Ja Han is referred to as ‘True Mother’. Oli addressed the Kathmandu summit which was attended by 1,500 delegates, including Burmese leader Aung San Suu Kyi and Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen. The <a href="https://theannapurnaexpress.com/story/15201/">gathering drew criticism</a> for being a proselytisation exercise, prompting Oli to decline attending a ‘blessing’ ceremony by Hak Ja Han.&nbsp; Ever since, the ‘Holy Wine’ has entered Nepal's political lexicon, and is still used derogatorily to label politicians involved.&nbsp; Nepal Paribar Party’s Govinda Nath Mishra says: “Ek Nath Dhakal has become a member of the House of Representatives twice, and our party has since its inception been close to the UML. We are just continuing that cooperation for this election as well.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260124080120_49ed56931f2bd97d75a5c9604e2d4f5cd3474177b302b13db5df2ccbe63994dd.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20260124080120_49ed56931f2bd97d75a5c9604e2d4f5cd3474177b302b13db5df2ccbe63994dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1318" height="1204" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  The Unification Church has said that the leaked documents are not authentic and were unofficial records created by former Director General of the Unification Church’s International Headquarters Yun Young Ho to ‘flaunt his influence’. The Japanese branch of the Unification Church said in a statement this week: ‘After reviewing the documents believed to be the report in question, we have found factual inaccuracies were added or content modified.’ Milan Kumari Rajbanshi, deputy General-Secretary of the Nepal Paribar Party and former MP denied her party was funded by any outside source, and she was no aware of any correspondence between Dhakal and anyone else.&nbsp; She told Nepali Times: “After the September street protests we spoke to many political parties, including GenZ activists, but the UML was the closest to our values.” Rajbanshi will be campaigning in Jhapa-5 on behalf of K P Oli who will be contesting against former Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah. The Newstapa leak show Dhakal and the Unification Church worked behind the scenes in the 2017 election to influence the &nbsp;elections. One email from Dhakal references this: ‘(If) we can secure a majority in next year’s general election … our wish is to educate all parliamentarians for two years until 2020 and create a constitution centred on Cheon Il Guk.’ Cheon Il Guk (천일국) means ‘One Heavenly Kingdom’ and is the vision of a spiritual nation proclaimed by Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church, and emphasises family values instead of individualism for global unity under a ‘Heavenly Parent’.&nbsp; The emails reveal that the Church was planning to convince Madhav Nepal and K P Oli to take all 150 coalition legislators to Bangkok to introduce them to its beliefs. That trip did not materialise, but the Church had earlier taken 20 Communist MPs to the Philippines and Thailand for ‘principle education’.&nbsp; In another email to Yong Jeong Shik, Dhakal describes Baburam Bhattarai as being ‘disillusioned with communism’ and that he proposed ‘gathering all minority parties to join the Family Party’. Bhattarai left the Maoists and is contesting from the Pragatisheel Loktantrik Party from his Gorkha constituency in March. Despite its connections with Nepal’s Communists, the Unification Church is known to support conservative politics around the world including through ownership of media like <a href="https://www.washingtontimes.com/">The Washington Times</a> newspaper.&nbsp; Founder Sun Myung Moon was deeply involved in pushing for Korean unification, and the Church has worked with Asian countries that have ties with North Korea. Documents show that the Unification Church had tried to get then UML Chair Madhav Kumar Nepal to Pyongyang, but the Nepal government supposedly under pressure from the South Korean, Japanese and US ambassadors got him to call it off. Madhav Nepal had also insisted that he meet Kim Jong Un, but the North Korean side had said it was not possible. But after Nepal left the UML to form the Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Socialist) he met the North Korean Ambassador in the presence of Ek Nath Dhakal to plan a visit in order to work towards Korean unification. A 11-member delegation composed of Nepal, Dhakal, MPs and a newspaper publisher visited North Korea in 2017 (pictured below).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260123040128_6690244be7aa18e24a4aef825935a7afcaa893b40191f712ab498105e06aaf51.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20260123040128_6690244be7aa18e24a4aef825935a7afcaa893b40191f712ab498105e06aaf51" data-rendition-name="original" width="2201" height="1148" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  METICULOUS ARCHIVE An extract from correspondence is indicative of the former prime minister’s links to the Unification Church: ‘Madhav Kumar Nepal … maintains a very close relationship with us and could become Prime Minister again at any time. There is no one who knows us as well or respects the Parents as much as former Prime Minister Madhav does … he is someone who regards the True Parents like God.’ The internal documents of the Unification Church obtained by Newstapa is called the ‘TM [True Mother] Special Report’ and appears to have been prepared for Hak Ja Han. The 3,212-page text provides a chronological account of the Church’s management of politicians internationally, its handling donations, and plans to expand political influence through its affiliated media outlets. The document is a meticulous archive apparently compiled by Yun Young Ho, the former Director General of the Unification Church’s International Headquarters, the organisation’s second-in-command.&nbsp; This suggests church affairs were reported directly to Hak Ja Han. Korean investigators are now focusing on whether Han merely received these reports or issued specific directives based on them. Yun testified during the trial in Seoul that the Church’s regional leaders and local partners would send daily field reports which he would synthesise into a ‘Special Report’ format to provide oral briefings to Han. Hak Ja Han therefore may have been personally involved in the Church’s operations in granular detail. Korean special prosecutors are viewing these documents as critical evidence in her trial to prove that she was directly involved in political lobbying. Last week, during a hearing on the Hak Ja Han bribery case, a regional Church leader admitted to personally drafting segments of the ‘True Parents Correspondence Report’ featured in the document. The ‘TM Special Report’ appears to be a compilation of internal documents reprocessed into a single file and includes emails and direct messaging. Certain periods are missing, leading to gaps in the narrative, raising the possibility that specific portions of the report may have been selectively curated or redacted. &nbsp; <h2>Both Koreas in Nepal</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012304018_962b3169d725dbd3dc820aab16a6ab8d3a083b55174558003d4ccfe97fe7789e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2026012304018_962b3169d725dbd3dc820aab16a6ab8d3a083b55174558003d4ccfe97fe7789e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics NT"> </figure>  Buddhism spread northwards across the Himalaya from Nepal to China and Korea 1,000 years ago, but in the past decades two of Korea’s powerful ideologies have come to Nepal. Nepal’s leftist movement, most notably the Nepal Workers Peasants Party (NWPP) <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Bhaktapur-dear-leader,3010">inspired by North Korea’s Kim Il Sung’s Juche Idea</a> espouses a nationalist agenda, and has a strong base in Bhaktapur. Meanwhile, South Korea’s Unification Church of Sun Myung Moon has influenced Nepal’s political, administrative and religious spheres.&nbsp; After establishment of Moon’s Universal Peace Federation (UPF) in 2005, the Church has a sizable presence in Nepal. The movement’s leader is Ek Nath Dhakal of the Nepal Paribar Party (above) who is affiliated with the UML and even served as a minister in a UML-Maoist coalition after being nominated as a PR member to Parliament.&nbsp; <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-movement-in-Nepal,2962">He told this paper in 2016</a>: “I am a Hindu, associated with the Unification Movement. The UPF staged one of its mass weddings at Dashrath Stadium in Kathmandu in 2017 (below). The movement recruits public figures like former president Bidya Devi Bhandari, Madhav Kumar Nepal and others as Ambassadors for Peace. Before he died in 2012 at age 92, Rev Moon had picked Nepal as a ‘model peace nation of God’. The Church says it embraces all religions, and does not even display the Christian cross at its places of worship.&nbsp; While young Nepalis follow South Korean pop culture fever, in Bhaktapur it is Kim Il Sung’s Juche Idea that is the dominant ideology. The Nepal Workers Peasants Party has won just about every district and local election from Bhaktapur, not so much for its politics, but because its representatives have performed well. Bhaktapur’s following of Kim Il Sung is based on Bijukchhe’s vision that his town be self-reliant and deliver development equitably.&nbsp; <h2>A worldwide web</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012304018_5c2949a3715b74f8992a6dcfc305fbaa817a0b834365c737bb81245762d74148.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="2026012304018_5c2949a3715b74f8992a6dcfc305fbaa817a0b834365c737bb81245762d74148" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="968" loading="lazy" alt="Moonie money in Nepal's politics"> </figure>  In 2022, the Unification Church (Family Federation for World Peace and Unification) arranged a meeting between Yoon Suk Yeol, who was then presidential candidate, and former US Vice President Mike Pence just before South Korean elections. The visit was timed for the ‘World Summit 2022’ hosted by the Universal Peace Federation (UPF), a Unification Church affiliate. The visit was widely covered by the media at the time, but a Newstapa investigation last year confirmed that the Church paid Pence $550,000 to visit Seoul. The visit was designed to bolster Yoon’s diplomatic and security credentials and appeal to religious voters. Yoon knew Pence was a devout Christian, and media at the time reported that both prayed before the meeting. Just like the UPF’s World Summit 2018 in Kathmandu, Cambodian PM Hun Sen was in attendance as was former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon. The welcome remark at the Summit was delivered by Yun Young Ho, then-Director General of the Unification Church’s World Headquarters. South Korean Special Prosecutors are currently investigating Yun for allegedly bribing former president Yoon Suk Yeol’s wife Kim Keon Hee.&nbsp; Newstapa also dug up Pence’s financial disclosures filed with the US Office of Government Ethics and the Federal Election Commission and found that Pence reported receiving $550,000 from the UPF for ‘a speaking engagement’ in Seoul in 2022 — an unusually hefty fee. Cambodian Premier Hun Sen has hosted K P Oli several times in Phnom Penh, once as prime minister in 2019, and again last year in August. There seems to be a similar nexus between Hun Sen, the UPF and former President Yoon and his wife Kim Keon Hee. When he became president in 2022, Yoon visited Cambodia with his wife, and South Korea doubled its development assistance to Cambodia to $1.5 billion. The Special Prosecutor in Seoul is investigating allegations that the Unification Church provided funds to Kim Keon Hee in helping a Mekong River project in Cambodia.

Moonie money in Nepal’s politics

Of the total 18,903,689 registered voters for Nepal’s 5 March election, nearly half are women. But around 10% of the 3,484 first-past-the-post (FPTP) candidates are female. RSP, the party that claims to represent the voice of the September protests, has the highest percentage of direct women candidates at 9%. All the other legacy parties, including UML, NC, NCP and RPP fielded just 6% female direct candidates. The Constitution requires 33% seats in Parliament for women, but the Election Commission has not enforced it. Political parties try to fulfil the quota through Proportional Representation (PR), but even that does not make up one-third of the candidates. Parties allocate women in constituencies where they are sure to lose, and ironically this means women candidates from the PR list have a better chance of becoming lawmakers than those contesting direct elections. “Most women candidates are given tickets where stronger male candidates from established parties are contesting, ensuring their loss,” explains Babita Basnet of Media Advocacy Nepal that works on improving gender representation. The PR list was supposed to safeguard the representation of marginalised and excluded groups, but many women PR candidates are celebrities, businesswomen — defeating the whole purpose of such affirmative action. Many parties have included relatives and cronies in the lists which means that in the grand scheme of things, women get a consolation prize at best. Figures for women representation are slightly better at the local levels. They made up 40.95% of all elected representatives in local elections in 2017 and 41.21% in 2022 because the Local Level Electoral Act 2017 had made it mandatory for women to either be vice mayor or mayor, and ward member. Still, it did not meet the target of 50% female representation. In both previous elections, nearly all parties fielded women only as vice mayors. Which meant that there were only seven women mayors elected in 2017, and 13 in 2022 — out of 293 metros and municipalities. The numbers were similar for female rural municipality chairs.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100128_0fd3f529a461a38b82c74969b152d1dccba8b0f149b6938058350cbd5d5f7019.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260122100128_0fd3f529a461a38b82c74969b152d1dccba8b0f149b6938058350cbd5d5f7019" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="nepal elections"><figcaption>Photo: RSS</figcaption></figure>  Says rights activist Stella Tamang: “Women need to become leaders not only for their community, but for the country as a whole. But most women candidates are made to believe that they are not capable enough to stand for the elections.” The reason for this engrained patriarchy is the belief among the leadership of parties that women candidates do not have voter support, the stamina to deal with intimidation, and that they lack campaign financing capacity. The election commission caps campaign spending at Rs200,000 for PR candidates and Rs2.5 million for FPTP. This rule is widely flouted, but most women candidates cannot even raise that much, and parties choose men who can finance their own campaigns. This has meant that the NC saw only one woman win in 2022: Sita Gurung from Tehrathum. But the NC under its new leadership has elected Pushpa Bhusal as party vice-president, the second woman after Shailaja Acharya 25 years ago to make it to that position. FIGHTING WOMEN During the conflict, one-third of Maoist guerrillas were women and fought against patriarchy and for empowerment. But the NCP’s women representation in the coming elections is only 6%. The two women in direct elections are the daughter and daughter-in-law of party chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal. Former Maoist leader Hisila Yami acknowledges this, and adds: “We share a similar political system to India, so we may need to follow its footsteps in implementing electoral provisions related to gender.” Even in constituencies where there are women candidates in direct ballots, they are pitted against each other. The NCP’s Renu Dahal is up against Shobita Gautam of RSP in Chitwan-3, and the NC’s Sarita Prasai is battling RSP’s Indira Ranamagar in Jhapa-2. <h2>Nepal’s election will be a referendum</h2> No clear winner projected as personalities dominate politics in a clash between old and new In his campaign speech in Janakpur, RSP prime ministerial candidate Balen Shah asked people to vote not because of creed or party loyalty, but for the right people in the right places. The former Kathmandu mayor is contesting from Jhapa-5 which has been former prime minister K P Oli’s stronghold for decades, and creating a frenzy wherever he campaigns. Just like RSP chair Rabi Lamichhane in 2022, Balen Shah is the protest candidate against the establishment. Jhapa-5 is being keenly watched because in this early election triggered by the GenZ protests, it is seen as a referendum between the old and new, and a chance for a generational transformation in Nepal’s politics. What has thrown a small pall over the RSP, however, was the acquittal by Attorney General Sabita Bhandari this week of Lamichanne and his at-large co-accused in the cooperatives scam. The party’s support was also jolted by a PR list populated by celebrities and businessmen. Shah’s strategy in contesting from Jhapa rather than his Kathmandu base is a direct message that he is now a politician of national stature. As first choice for prime minister for GenZ activists, he represents their aspirations. But it remains to be seen how much of his vast social media support will translate into physical ballots in March. In an interview with AFP this week Shah said: ‘This should not be perceived as an egoistic decision. The ripple effect would simply be greater if I contest from Jhapa … [it] signals that I am not taking the easy way out.’ Unlike previous polls, this time there are no announced electoral alliances, and this means no party is a clear projected winner. Most of the electoral races are between heavyweight politicians with no clear ideological differences.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_e43f76616bd311b5b4bb081aca9f3e89a091d8238de3dca1753826b9eafa0aa0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122100124_e43f76616bd311b5b4bb081aca9f3e89a091d8238de3dca1753826b9eafa0aa0" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="362" loading="lazy" alt="Ba vs Balen elections"><figcaption>BA AND BALEN: Former Prime Minister K P Oli registering as a candidate in Jhapa-5 this week. Former Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah greeting supporters at his party office on Wednesday (below).</figcaption></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122100124_673586c61a4bd5b783f0421699f0f704a6df7d5db5c92bc6193e0b8bd7d7d7f5.webp" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260122100124_673586c61a4bd5b783f0421699f0f704a6df7d5db5c92bc6193e0b8bd7d7d7f5" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="600" loading="lazy" alt="Ba vs Balen elections"></figure>  RIPPLE EFFECT The biggest impact of the September protests is seen in the NC which nearly split and elected Gagan Thapa as its new president — a clear departure from his predecessor Sher Bahadur Deuba who has been prime minister five times since 1995. The NC’s electoral tickets have also gone to new faces. The UML’s K P Oli was prime minister during the GenZ-led protests that ousted his coalition. He has been the most resistant to change and has kept his tight grip on the party. He has sidelined dissidents in ticket allocation, but has fielded new younger candidates. However, only 16.73% of candidates fall in the 24-35 age bracket, while nearly half are between 35-50. One third of candidates are still between 51-65 and there are a handful above 65. There are 3,484 candidates contesting in 165 constituencies, and 68 political parties are participating while 1,187 are independent candidates. Only 11.34% of candidates are women. As elsewhere in the world, politicians have overshadowed politics and ideology. March promises to be a clash of personalities in which age and populist novelty will be determinant. “There is a culture of male-dominated populism, and unless representation of women is increased in the party hierarchies, gender will take a back seat,” says Hisila Yami. “There is a failure of progressivism and a rightwing drift across the world.” PM Karki’s interim government is called ‘Ama Sarkar’, and there was hope that her leadership as a motherly figure would bring change. But five of her ministers who rode GenZ support to Cabinet positions have resigned to join various parties — mostly the RSP. Concludes Babita Basnet, “Many young girls and women today can dream of a better tomorrow and a future in politics. Prime Minister Sushila Karki has made that symbolically possible, but that ethos of inclusion has to be espoused by the political parties.”

Ladies not first-past-the-post

Kalpana Maharjan is the first female journalist to climb Mt Everest from both the Nepal and the China sides. But the Lalitpur native doesn’t just climb mountains for the sake of breaking records. In 2014, Maharjan was attempting Mera Peak in the Khumbu region when she was struck by severe cerebral oedema that put her into a coma for eight days. “After regaining consciousness I believed that God had given me a second life,” recalls Maharjan. “So I decided that I would live the rest of my life for the public good.” Her first summit of Everest was in 2018, when Maharjan was 34. She climbed from the South Col route with four other Nepali women journalists. Exactly a year later, she summitted again, this time from from the North Col route, naming her expedition 'Back to Everest: A Campaign Against Child Marriage.'&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122050152_bd0158bb764e79e6c20ed70fe297e5c836621f7af2366a650e4e68e07a4bbe3a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260122050152_bd0158bb764e79e6c20ed70fe297e5c836621f7af2366a650e4e68e07a4bbe3a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="1024" loading="lazy" alt="Kalpana Maharjan"> <figcaption>Kalpana Maharjan being greeted in Lalitpur after her second ascent of Everest in 2019.</figcaption> </figure>  Now, Maharjan combines her activism with training young Nepalis in sports climbing. Maharjan runs awareness programs against child marriage and human trafficking in schools in South Lalitpur: Godavari, Imadol, Dukuchhep. Her first goal is to make the district of Lalitpur free of child marriage. “My whole goal is to show kids that there is more to life than getting married,” she says. She does this by introducing and training students in Sports Climbing which includes Speed climbing, Lead climbing, and Bouldering. “There are only one or two Nepali athletes dedicated to the sport. So it is possible to train for 3 to 4 years and become an international level climber,” says Maharjan, who trains 150 young athletes, some as young as 7. There are under-14 climbing tournaments, and the idea is to start them young on the walls since their future competitors in the West start as soon as they can walk. Maharjan is committed to the sport. She completed judging and route-setting training from the Indian Mountaineering Foundation, is the president of the Bagmati Province’s Sports Climbing Association and is fund-raising to build a climbing wall in Imadol. For the moment, Maharjan’s students use the Pasang Lhamu climbing wall in Dhumbarahi, twice a week and daily during vacations.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260122050152_59195b8b3d15be358bb6909a03217bff0fc6b62e8ddccf01c85369119853dda9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260122050152_59195b8b3d15be358bb6909a03217bff0fc6b62e8ddccf01c85369119853dda9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Kalpana Maharjan"> <figcaption>Kalpana Maharjan trainign students on the climbing wall.</figcaption> </figure>  “The kids are excited about the wall in Imadol, which would allow them to train more often,” says Maharjan. “Interestingly, the ones who are scared of heights often perform the best.” Besides training on the climbing wall, Maharjan also counsels her students about their career plans, and hopes that her story inspires them to achieve any goal they want. With programs such as ‘Tij on the Wall’ during the annual festival for women, Maharjan makes sure the parents are involved too, and that they understand and feel what climbing is like. BALANCING ACT Maharjan has always had to balance her passion for mountaineering, activism, and sports climbing with the duties and expectations of her family. “My son helps out a lot, he is very independent and busy, but convincing my parents and husband was a lot of work,” she admits. In fact, her husband only found out that she was going back to climbing Everest after her coma through the news. “I understand their concern. After all, the doctor had given me only a 15% chance to live,” she says. “I couldn’t tell them I was going back to the mountains.” Kalpana’s father even threatened to disown her. But she had already set her mind to it, and was willing to risk any opposition from her parents, and even separation. While training for her first attempt, she would wake up at three in the morning to get all of her housework done. Then she would leave the house to train at a climbing wall in Balaju, and then go to her journalism job or meet potential sponsors for the climb. “As the eldest daughter-in-law in a traditional Newar household I had a lot of chores when I got home in the evening,” she remembers. As part of the Jyapu farming community, Maharjan is also proud that after working as a journalist producing videos, on the weekends she is at her family’s paddy field in Dhapakhel with a doko on her back. Eventually, Maharjan’s goal is to have her trainees win medals in international competitions, and develop a reputation for Nepal in the sports climbing world.

Driving young Nepalis up the wall

Bhairav is the fierce manifestation of Lord Shiva, and his strength is depicted in a fearsome face but he is also a protector and guardian. There are eight forms of Bhairav in Kathmandu, and they are all featured in Mukesh Shrestha’s exhibition Bhairav Bhav at Gallery 108 in Darbar Marg. The artist was moved to contemplate the violent September protests through this series of paintings.&nbsp; “The GenZ protests exposed the greedy and aggressive side of leaders in which many young Nepalis lost their lives. Bhairav teaches people that forms of aggression and peace can go hand in hand, and peace can be chosen,” Shrestha explains. The artworks on display have a distinct palette of yellow, black and white, symbolising peace even during turbulent times. “Yellow is an auspicious colour for Hindus and Buddhists, it also has religious significance,” he says. Each painting is imbued by the black walls of the gallery and spotlight with warm lights. Says gallery manager Pooja Mahato, “The backdrop is black deliberately so that the visitors’ focus goes more to the artwork and less on the surrounding.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012008018_ac2e3090a926cb57fca481d580d1c087b43d392299e2d99231a6044a05696964.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026012008018_ac2e3090a926cb57fca481d580d1c087b43d392299e2d99231a6044a05696964" data-rendition-name="original" width="2784" height="3984" loading="lazy" alt="Bhairav art review"> </figure>  Each of the paintings depicts Bhairav’s face in the real form but the bodies are imagined by the artist. This distinction is also made by the use of colours on the face while the body is conspicuously black and white. As Bhairav is one of Lord Shiva’s forms, serpents are an essential part of the portraits. The pieces on Kal Bhairav of Kathmandu Darbar Square and Bagh Bhairav of Kirtipur ooze power from every angle. Kal Bhairav is the Lord of time, and the Bagh Bhairav represents the ferocity of the tiger. Meanwhile, Unmatta Bhairav, also known as Digambar sacrificed the greed for life and is depicted naked. Couples who do not have children are blessed with offspring if they worship this Bhairav avatar. Then there is Batuk Bhairav, the childish god with a happy face. The blue here creates a vibrant, ritualistic visage even as it emotes calmness. “It is believed that Bhairav came in this child-like form to fool the demons to destroy them, and is represented through small hands and feet,” explains Mahato.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026012008018_e1f25fe3e0d9431df47cd8f76182649e969d511298c17c0c92179475e8008809.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026012008018_e1f25fe3e0d9431df47cd8f76182649e969d511298c17c0c92179475e8008809" data-rendition-name="original" width="2120" height="3728" loading="lazy" alt="Bhairav art review"> </figure>  Shweta Bhairav's face is also depicted exactly the same as it is in Kathmandu Darbar Square. Its body includes the feet of Bhramayani Devi, one of the forms of Nava Durga. It is believed that this form of Bhairav is granted entry in Kathmandu only after the welcome of Bhramayani Devi.&nbsp; Shweta Bhairav was wrongly identified as the Akash Bhairav when it was chosen as the motif for Royal Nepal Airlines 60 years ago. Despite this, the carrier’s aircraft still carry the wrong Bhairav on their fuselage. Shanta Bhairav, meanwhile, entered Kathmandu Valley in the form of a human to meet his beloved, Lassi. After agreeing to take the role of the protector for children as many were lost, he was allowed to live in the Valley.&nbsp; The paintings also represent peace and tranquility: lotus flowers emerging from the heads of a male and female body, and military tanks below them. Says Mukesh Shrestha, “Each artwork is a journey from ignorance to knowledge. Whatever we think, we become. If we think of peace, we become peaceful, but if we think of destruction, we become destructive.” Bhairav Bhav By Mukesh Shrestha Gallery 108, Darbar Marg Until 31 January 11am-7pm (Mondays by appointment)

The power of peace

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>

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