An excerpt of a conversation between an anthropologist and linguist Mark Turin, PhD and Lava Deo Awasthi, PhD, the first Chairperson of the Language Commission of Nepal. Nepali Times: What is the role of Nepal’s Language Commission and when was it formed? Lava Deo Awasthi: The Constitution of Nepal (2015) created a Language Commission (LC) with the following four core mandates: (a) to develop eligibility criteria for gaining status as an official language and offer recommendations to the Government of Nepal about the official language(s) in each province; (b) to offer recommendations to the Government about measures to be taken for the conservation, promotion, and development of languages; (c) to suggest possible ways of using mother tongues in education by assessing their stage of development; and, (d) to conduct studies, carry out research and perform monitoring functions about the response to the constitutional provisions for the federalisation of languages in Nepal. The Commission was founded in 2016 and I was appointed as the Chairperson of the Commission in September of the same year by the Cabinet of Ministers. What in your own professional and educational background helped to prepare you for the role? I have worked with the Government of Nepal for about 30 years, alongside holding teaching appointments at universities in Nepal. Prior to assuming the role of the Chairperson of the Commission, I served as permanent Secretary to the Government of Nepal and worked as the Chief Administrator of the Central Development Region. I was appointed as Director General of the Department of Education and completed my assignments as Joint Secretary at the Planning, Monitoring and Educational Administration Divisions of the Ministry of Education.&nbsp; In addition, I have taught courses as a visiting professor at Tribhuvan University and Kathmandu University for more than three decades. Later, I also started supervising MPhil and PhD students at the Far Western University in Mahendranagar, Kanchanpur. My PhD project from the Danish University of Education was dedicated to making sense of Nepal’s social construct and commitment to multilingualism, exploring the persistence of monolingual school practices in the face of constitutional promises and state commitments to multilingualism. I conducted a survey of Nepal’s languages and carried out a qualitative study of the Tharu language in the district of Bardia. I analysed language policy statements and explored classroom pedagogies in schools. I documented how teachers showed a tendency to resist change and maintain the status quo because they were not consulted when new educational language policies were introduced. Teachers also exhibited a deeply-held adherence to the Gurukul education system which appears to have been harnessed as a way to resist newer pedagogical ideologies imported from the West. Recognising how engrained these rich traditions of knowledge transmission are, I wanted to know how students’ engagement in the learning process appeared to have dwindled, creating a gap between children’s home languages and the language(s) of the school. Whilst statutory provisions for education in the mother tongue were oriented towards promotion, classroom pedagogies remained resolutely monolingual and exclusionary. The result was that multilingual education policies that had been introduced in Nepal did not result in meaningful changes in classroom practices. My research was also a reflection of childhood traumas I had experienced at the earliest stage of formal education. My home language, Baitadeli, has a strong oral tradition and no written literature. English is my fifth language in terms of exposure and competence, and my home district of Baitadi is well-known for its loyalty to the local language. I had to drop out of school after completing my sixth grade. Staying at home, I received much attention from my family and had much greater exposure to my native language, culture and environment. My overall impression is that dropping out of school had a surprisingly positive impact on my life. The opportunity offered a surprising dividend for me as I gained mastery in my mother tongue and received extensive exposure to folk literature and Indigenous knowledge and survival skills, cultivating my interest in language, culture, literature and local cosmologies.&nbsp; Now that I reflect on it, I appreciate how language has always played a key role in my life. I grew up in a multilingual environment: brought up with Baitadeli, Hindi, Sanskrit, Nepali and English. Language played a major part in my decision to leave school and my later success is closely linked to my competence in several languages. It was rewarding to be at home with my family as I deepened my understanding of native language and culture, which in turn helped me to harness and refine my art of living. Languages matter so much to me because they are both software and hardware. Later, when I was in secondary school, I realised that my command of my home language contributed significantly to enhancing my Nepali and English. I used my mother tongue as a form of linguistic capital to strengthen my competence in both English and Nepali.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024111811110_5400ba54792bf9e4854e1c1effde8bf09804e99647f23513700b450cc49adc4a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024111811110_5400ba54792bf9e4854e1c1effde8bf09804e99647f23513700b450cc49adc4a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Dr Lava Deo Awasthi"> </figure>  In your term as the Commission’s first Chairperson, what were your strategic goals and objectives? My first strategic goal was to create an environment conducive to implementing the provisions of the Constitution of Nepal in relation to language. My priority was to prepare a detailed action plan for my six-year tenure in consultation with language stakeholders, including language experts, professionals, activists, Indigenous community members and representatives of relevant national and local-level institutions. The Commission formed a body of high-level advisors to ensure that the Chairperson’s work was well-informed and credible. The advisors to the committee had highly visible professional and social reputations in Nepal and had much experience in the field of language conservation, promotion, research and development. Another strategy we adopted was to establish close institutional linkages with federal, provincial, and local level governments for collecting opinions and disseminating information widely.&nbsp; What critical issues did you have to consider while discharging your duty? When Nepal’s new Constitution was drafted, a number of concerns could not be adequately addressed. These related to the conservation of languages, the recognition of official languages at the provincial level, and the use of mother tongues at federal, provincial, and local levels. These unresolved issues and matters pertaining to the federalizsation of Nepal’s languages were passed on to the Language Commission to address and resolve.&nbsp; Regarding the recommendations for official languages, a five-year timeline had been set by the Constitution. With great effort, we succeeded in having all provinces agree to recognise their official languages as per the recommendations of the Commission.&nbsp; What were your greatest achievements during your term? One of the greatest achievements was that we succeeded in setting a language agenda at all levels. Nepal’s language communities and other stakeholders expressed the view that this was the first time their languages were recognised and their voices heard by the state. People participated in debates and discussed issues relating to language that in all likelihood had never before happened in their lifetimes, at least not in ways that were supported by the state. We encouraged people to speak in their own language(s) and provided translators during plenary sessions and group discussions. Another major achievement was developing criteria for the status planning of languages at federal, provincial, and local levels, and to recommend 11 province-level official languages, in addition to the Nepali language. Similarly, a notable achievement was recognising Indigenous languages spoken by smaller communities, all of whom faced ongoing marginalisation and high levels of endangerment. The Commission identified 9 new languages that had not been reported in the 2011 census, and provided a framework for recognising official languages within a municipality. The commission emphasised the need for documentation and digitisation of languages for developing corpora and archives at national and sub-national levels.&nbsp; Languages of historical importance as well as classical languages were given recognition for their protection, growth, and development. Recommendations were made for the conservation, promotion and development of Nepal’s marginalised languages that are threatened by majority languages and for those languages that hold particular power at local and global levels. Recommendations were also made for how best to safeguard Nepal’s languages from the ever-growing spread of English and other powerful, globalising languages.&nbsp; A further important aspect of the Commission’s work was to emphasise mother tongue medium instruction in schools across the nation. Recognising the role of language in children’s cognitive, socio-emotional and academic development, the Commission suggested strategies for linking schools with ward-level language clusters for use in the classroom. The importance of nurturing and respecting a child’s first language was reiterated in the Commission’s recommendations for children’s learning and all-round development. By the end of my term, a remarkable change could be observed in terms of building trust within and across Nepal’s diverse language communities. A network of language groups and stakeholders across the country proved to be a powerful way of bringing all language communities under one roof for a collective review of and response to the process of federalising language policy. The many language stakeholders across Nepal appreciated the opportunity to work within a coordinated framework, and—feeling empowered by this—seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the initiatives taken by the Commission.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024111811114_b45297fdd2fedf17bdb6313e495a1062c0d87f1a19fa5349f871f220b75f93ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024111811114_b45297fdd2fedf17bdb6313e495a1062c0d87f1a19fa5349f871f220b75f93ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dr Lava Deo Awasthi NT"> </figure>  What were the most significant challenges for you as Chairperson? One of the major challenges was winning people’s trust in advocating for the mission of the Language Commission. I faced considerable resistance as I sought to emphasise the use of native languages in families and communities. While the Commission advocated for multilingualism and promoted linguistic diversity, the prevailing policy circles and central level institutions had been deeply influenced by a one-language discourse and ideology of Nepali only. The spread of English also poses a huge threat to Nepal’s languages. However, people in power do not seem to see this as a problem. They tend to abandon their own languages in preference for English. The way that Nepal’s municipalities are increasingly introducing English as a medium of instruction at the earliest stage of a child’s school-based education has proven to be detrimental to their cognitive development, socio-emotional wellbeing and academic success. Most of Nepal’s elites have been heavily influenced by the spread of English and remain unaware about its impact on their home languages as well as on the inter-generational transmission of Indigenous languages in the country. I wish that we could have produced more compelling evidence to show the consequences of making poor policy choices for our children’s education. Demystification calls for a collective response. To make change happen across this entire, complex and federalising country was daunting work and left like a race against time. I feel that I could have done more to offer concrete examples in favour of using the mother tongue as a medium of children’s education at the earliest stages of a child’s education. What do you see the Language Commission achieving in the next 5-10 years? The Language Commission will have to ensure that all of its key recommendations are implemented at all levels of government. In 10 years’ time, all seven of Nepal’s provinces will have their official languages in place. These languages will also be recognised as languages of federal business, alongside Nepali. I anticipate that all official languages in the federal and provincial systems will have a national portal for inter-language corpora using machine translation to fulfil their federal, provincial and local level language functions, and that all languages spoken in Nepal will be represented through a digital database in the national archive. The Office of Statistics will monitor the status of Nepal’s languages over time. By the end of the next decade, each municipality in the country will have recognised one or two official languages at the local level, based on speech populations. Other local languages will have received community-level legal recognition and official status to fulfil their functional roles. Languages that are highly endangered or at risk will be entitled to receive state grants for enhancing local level capabilities to encourage families and young learners to speak the language. Incentive schemes will be introduced in municipalities that promote language within the family and at home. Inter-generational transmission of languages will have received welcome and timely attention across Nepal. It is my hope that all schools—public and private—will have introduced mother tongue medium instruction at the earliest stage of school education, at least up to class five. Nepali, English and other national as well as classical and foreign languages will be taught as subjects. The existing policy of English medium education at the early stage of education will be abolished. The Government of Nepal will be held accountable if the number of speakers of any language decreases or if local communities face language loss and greater endangerment. Under the aegis of the Language Commission, a Centre for Language Research and Innovation will be created with world-class facilities for language documentation and archiving in collaboration with Tribhuvan University’s Central Department of Linguistics and other relevant institutions. Harnessing the vastness of Nepal’s linguistic diversity, the Language Commission will morph into a centre of excellence for national and international communities to engage in collaborative language research, to share experiences and document best practices at in service of global linguistic diversity and Nepal’s many Indigenous languages.

Languages are both software and hardware

Bottom

Nepal has received Rs407 billion in remittance in the first three months of the current fiscal year, an increase of 11.5% in comparison to the same period last year. This is down from last year’s growth of 25.8% compared to the same period two years ago. Meanwhile, 110,654 Nepali workers have received first-time approvals for foreign employment in the last three months and 59,939 renewed theirs. Exports decreased by 6.1% and imports by 4.2%. The total trade deficit decreased by 4% to Rs352 billion.

Rs407B in 3 months

Turkish Airlines has introduced a new amenity kit collection designed in collaboration with French fashion house Lanvin for international business class passengers on flights more than five hours. It consists of five pieces designed for sustainability and elegance. Bags are reusable and will consist of Lanvin cosmetic products like hand and body lotions and lip balm. Eye masks and socks are made from recycled materials, earplugs are packaged in paper and the toothbrush is bamboo.

Turkish amenity kit

On the occasion of Tax Day, Nabil Bank was recognised as the highest taxpayer in the banking, financial, and insurance category in the fiscal year 2022/23. This is the eighth time Nabil has received this distinction.

Highest taxpayer

Use what talent you possess: the woods would be very silent if no bird sang except the best. -Henry Van Dyke  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241123021112_91e0eaee2fd958960df7ac8c92baf1bbb780e277ae46bebfbe8261a8fc35ebe0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241123021112_91e0eaee2fd958960df7ac8c92baf1bbb780e277ae46bebfbe8261a8fc35ebe0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1350" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Miss Moti #1236"></figure>

Use what talent you possess

It is that time of the year again, and another annual climate jamboree. Last year it was in the UAE, this year it is in another petrostate, Azerbaijan.&nbsp;
On the eve of the summit, the president of COP29 was exposed in a sting operation by World Witness while giving leads to a fake financier for fossil fuel projects in Azerbaijan. Like Dubai last year, this is another jumbo gathering with nearly 67,000 delegates. That is a large carbon footprint.
Even so, global climate negotiations are of critical importance, particularly to build a stronger case for Loss &amp; Damage (L&amp;D) and adaptation for countries like Nepal which are at the frontlines of climate breakdown.
Baku is billed as the ‘Finance COP’ and an agreement was signed for full operationalisation of the L&amp;D Fund to disburse money starting next year. On 13 November, Nepal also organised a prominent event in Baku to address loss and damage in mountain areas.
COP29 is also mandated to come up with a new roadmap to mobilise $100 billion every year to developing countries by the end in 2025, as agreed ten years ago in Paris. But much water has flowed down the Seine since then, and there is bickering between rich and poor countries on the New Collective Quantified Goal (NCQG). Who is going to fund the additional $671 billion annually for loss and damage, and $2.4 trillion a year by 2030 to meet emission targets?&nbsp;
The hardcore negotiations will not take place till the L&amp;D Fund board meet in Manila next month. But there are lots of things to iron out first to garner necessary political will in Baku. Who is going to pay, how much, is it going to be part of already committed development aid or is it new money, and besides, with frequent record-breaking disasters, we may need much more than $100 billion a year by 2030.&nbsp;
Nevertheless, the Nepali adviser to the LDC Chair at the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) Manjeet Dhakal is optimistic, and told us from Baku that this summit should build momentum to speed up the L&amp;D Fund.
The September floods in central and eastern Nepal claimed 244 lives, and damaged more than a dozen hydropower plants temporarily, slashing domestic generation capacity by half and caused billions of rupees in damage that will take years to recover. The Melamchi disaster in 2021, the Kagbeni flood in 2022 and Thame this year are other recent climate-induced calamities.
The World Weather Attribution concluded that rapid urbanisation and climate change were key drivers behind the September disaster. Evidence such as this will increase Nepal’s case for L&amp;D Funds even though encroachment and quarrying contributed to the destruction.&nbsp;
Climate impact must therefore be addressed simultaneously with urban planning, better governance, with local adaptation and mitigation plans. Nepal has to put its own house in order for its loss and damage claims to have weight at the international table.&nbsp;
Nepal has already exceeded one of its climate goals of increasing forest cover to 45% of area, and recently received Rs1.6 billion from the World Bank for increasing its carbon reserves between 2018-24 by expanding forest cover in 13 Tarai districts. Nepal has also made notable progress in transitioning to clean energy by electrifying transport and cooking. However, electricity is a mere 3.5% of Nepal’s energy mix, with biomass taking a 80% share.&nbsp;
Nepal’s strategy moving forward should be to come up with a new Nationally Determined Contribution aligned with the Paris 1.5°C goal. This also corresponds with the other top priority of COP29, which is to guide countries to submit new 1.5°C aligned NDCs next year.
Even if the L&amp;D Fund does come through, it will be inadequate to fully make up for the harm that is sure to intensify in the coming decade. Even if we did get the money, it is doubtful given the lack of transparency and Nepal’s record of poor disbursement if it will ever get to the neediest people. In other words, we are on our own.
Writing emotionally for this paper in the aftermath of the September floods, climate finance expert Rastraraj Bhandari said, “We in the climate finance sector are lost in words, actions and false promises of organisations purporting to help vulnerable countries, communities and families.”
Echoing the helplessness of the survivors, he added, “I worked on projects to mobilise millions of dollars for climate action so that those most vulnerable would be safe. Yet, this weekend’s floods have shown me that on the ground, absolutely nothing has changed.”&nbsp;
Sonia Awale

Bad COP

“यहाँ वाग्नर कोदाली खनिरहेछन्, शेक्सपियर हलो जोत्ता हुन्, टिसियन र टर्नर भेडा चराउँदा हुन्, सोक्रेटिज गुफामा घोत्लिरहेका होलान्... यहाँ कति साहित्य छ, जो लेखिएकै छैन, न लेखिनेछ।” Wagners and Shakespeares could be ploughing fields here, Tissiens and Turners may be shepherds, Socrates must be living in a desolate cave ... there is so much literature here that is not written and will never be written. This excerpt from the essay के नेपाल सानो छ? (Is Nepal Small?) by poet Laxmi Prasad Devkota that most Nepali students have to learn in school, alludes to treasures of Nepali literature that remain hidden because people are too busy trying to survive.&nbsp; While Devkota’s dialectic may still be true, Nepali writers like Samyak Shertok are taking their literature to international platforms and giving it global recognition. Samyak Shertok is the recent recipient of the 2024 <a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fawpwriter.org%2FAWP%2FAWP%2FContests%2FAWP-Award-Series%2FDonald-Hall-Prize%2FOverview.aspx%3Ffbclid%3DIwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR2rtN6pn1xy9O42GhznnQekY96bavYGwHz6pDtNaSGh4qaKXsZKSyvCKDU_aem_bsY7bnUoJoSxEpfxw1UdVQ&amp;h=AT0QnfORyOboQ6xeVZYe-r4CLjYIjtZwIcEsR3r54yeHGbMqiMHTjcoT3CP2CD7VXUn9jytxX4FtFmLhINdF8UwGvLy9urNtzxIeUNLOuwLVhSH6hmbVx3oA8rZIY3WNkMani8g6I1c">Donald Hall Prize for Poetry</a>. His poem collection ‘No Rhododendron’ is being published next year by the University of Pittsburgh Press in the Pitt Poetry Series. His poems have also appeared in top literary journals and publications in the US, such as Best of New Poets, Iowa Review amd Kenyon Review.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241013131056_630058ef31163af4def47cbcc247089ee3df925ff6c1bd2014f1008db515f9c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241013131056_630058ef31163af4def47cbcc247089ee3df925ff6c1bd2014f1008db515f9c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Samyak Shertok"> <figcaption>Photo: CHANDRA S MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  ‘If poetry is, as has been defined, a species of magic, Samyak Shertok has conjured an elegant and sophisticated collection that is full of hybridity in form and subject…’ writes Donald Hall Prize 2024 jury member Kimiko Hahn, an American poet. ‘We are given a view into the conjuring, his view on how language expresses and depresses, how language as noise can mix into cacophony or clarify home.’ Hahn goes on to add, ‘There is abiding grief and, in that, surviving to tell and retell stories. This debut collection is an absolute marvel.’ Shertok’s poems immerse themselves in the idea of a mother language, of motherhood, home, ongoingness and his relationship with them, leaving behind a part of himself in each poem. His poems have a haunting grief and memories, and leave food for the soul to dwell upon. “Poems are a permanent home that I can always return to,” Shertok told us in a zoom call. He moved to the United States to pursue a psychology major as an undergraduate which he completed in 2011 from Brigham Young University, and has been there since. Samyak was born Shertok Lama, the youngest child in a Tamang family from Yurung village of Sindhupalchok district. He had always thought a poet had to be someone senior with a PhD, or a long white beard like Nepali poet Lekhnath Paudyal or the Bengali Nobel Prize winner Rabindranath Tagore. ‘Samyak’ means the Buddha’s middle way and ‘Shertok’ is the Tamang word for a golden steeple. Nepaliness is a recurring theme in Samyak’s verse, but he has a fraught relationship with his motherland. As someone from an indigenous community, Shertok grew up feeling stereotyped and judged which is why he opted for a surname that would not denote his ethnicity. He was eight when his older brother recited the poem he had written himself while walking to their school, an hour across mountain paths from his home. “The poem my older brother wrote was about love and destiny. I don’t remember the lines now, but the seed was planted sometime there,” Shertok recalls.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241013141012_e562220a7461f09924480bb991319bfc420ba275b672885815382bb526833301.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241013141012_e562220a7461f09924480bb991319bfc420ba275b672885815382bb526833301" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Samyak Shertok"> </figure>  Shertok has frequent references to his mother who played a part in shaping his career as a poet. He explains: “I believe my Ama is a lived poet. She doesn't know about poets, or how to write poems, but she naturally comes up with her own phrases that are poetic and deeply meaningful.” By Grade 11, Shertok was writing poems mostly in Nepali, but also English. He was prolific, penning short stories, essays, ghazals and managed to impress another <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/writing-about-nepal-from-afar">US-based Nepali writer Samrat Upadhyay</a> and publisher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/a-novelist-talks-to-his-translator">Ajit Baral of Fineprint</a> when he won the Writing Nepal competition organised by Lalit. "Samyak Shertok is a poet of great nuance and emotional depth," says Upadhyay who was the judge of the Lalit contest. "Even then I had been wowed by the poetry in Samyak’s prose, and it’s no wonder he’s emerged as a poet of considerable power now." He adds: "The fact that Samyak’s poetry is speaking to a diverse and international audience is evident in his numerous publications and awards. The Donald Hall Prize is a big deal. It boasts of many illustrious poets as its previous winners, such as Angela Ball and Reginald Shepherd. Samyak’s win is a win for Nepalis all over the world." Shertok struggled to adjust to a new culture and milieu. He did not feel like he belonged, and strived to feel appreciated. He finally had a MFA in poetry, but no job. “Poetry as a career is never fully secure, there is a compulsion to financially depend on something else,” says Shertok who now teaches poetry to students in Hendrix College in Arkansas. While he has been reading and writing poetry for most of his life, writing still does not get any easier for Shertok. “With practice, devotion and dedication, one might get better at techniques but writing a poem means starting from nothing,” adds Shertok, who is now working on his second book collection. “Something more challenging is to not repeat what I’ve already done in my previous poem.” While he still likes to explore different literary forms, poetry provides him ample room to explore life, living and longing. Even Shertok’s spoken words, carried over from the other side of the planet over Zoom is versified: “Each poem is a being. A poem begins with a haunting, and ends when you are able to release the haunt.”&nbsp;

Finding a permanent home in poetry

Shyam Lama had just fallen asleep on the early morning of 28 September when he heard a loud bang outside his shop on the side of the highway in Dhading, 15km from Kathmandu. It had been r<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">aining incessantly for two days</a>, landslips and fallen trees had blocked the Kathmandu-Mugling highway. Many buses were stranded, and some of them were parked at a bend on the road in Jhyaple Khola, waiting for the debris to be cleared. The bang that Lama heard was another landslide from the mountain above falling near his shop and covering the highway with 4m of mud and stones. Some of the buses were damaged, and injured passengers were running for safety in the darkness and pouring rain. In the light of dawn, they could see the damaged buses heading to Kathmandu from the west. But it was not till later in the day that Lama and some of the other rescuers saw the top of another bus sticking out of the mud.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_a0b528829a4230da6b7b26102a42f0a061de6c26a4fb1d1e201dabfcfc647519.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241008141044_a0b528829a4230da6b7b26102a42f0a061de6c26a4fb1d1e201dabfcfc647519" data-rendition-name="original" width="5726" height="3817" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: suman)</figcaption> </figure>  They dug through the slush to find 11 bodies. But then they spotted the tyre of another vehicle, then a van. Altogether 35 passengers perished that night in the three buses heading to Kathmandu from Chitwan, Butwal and Gorkha.&nbsp; “The buses were all stuck because the highway was blocked, and the landslide fell and buried them with the passengers sleeping inside,” Lama says. “If the debris up the road had been cleared in time, the buses would have been able to continue on to Kathmandu.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-flood-of-tears-on-the-rosi">A flood of tears on the Rosi</a>, Archana Darji Archana Koirala runs a convenience store nearby, and was also awoken by muffled shouts for help almost drowned out by the sound of the rain on the tin roof. “In the darkness, I saw people escaping from two buses, some of them injured and covered in blood,” recalls Koirala. “I gathered up my little girls and ran for my life.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_ec79cc7198b54bad77c3f03bc1420ea64cb6776eaaec29581209614194b862fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241008141044_ec79cc7198b54bad77c3f03bc1420ea64cb6776eaaec29581209614194b862fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="5680" height="3787" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> </figure>  Another shop owner Ajita Tamang, heard the landslide coming down and nearly burying her house. She ran with her mother to the nearby woods. Her shop did not survive. Krishna Tamang heard the sound of a bus windshield shattering, and went outside to check. &nbsp;He saw one of the buses half-buried in debris before it disappeared before his eyes, swallowed up by a fresh wave of mud. Unable to do anything to help, he ran up the mountain to save his own life.&nbsp; Shop owners and residents in Jhyaple Khola say that the landslide was so massive and came down so suddenly that the passengers in the vehicles probably did not even know what hit them. A week later, the mangled mass of the three buses are all that remain on the roadside, and excavators were trying to open the road for the expected heavy Dasain traffic on the arterial highway that connects Kathmandu to western Nepal. A visit to the site shows the mountain above scarred by open red wounds of landslides. The biggest slope failure originates in a local road about 100m above the highway and has brought down debris that was just dumped over the edge by bulldozers. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair">When the record-breaking rain came</a>, the mud turned into paste and raced down the mountain carrying tree trunks and large stones. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_64f6af7e300ed517f6bd161491a69d85706caed35839cfeee7c87e6671a8fdc3.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241008141044_64f6af7e300ed517f6bd161491a69d85706caed35839cfeee7c87e6671a8fdc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="1346" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>The bend on the highway where the landslide, triggered by a sub-standard road up the mountain buried three buses, killing 35 people on the night of 28 September. Other buses also blocked by another landslide further up the road were also damaged. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Typically, Dasain is the busiest time of year for businesses along the highway in Jhyaple Khola as people leave Kathmandu by busloads to get home for the festival. “We do not stay here for long anymore, we are already home before the sun sets,” says Krishna Tamang. “We fear another landslide will hit us at any time.” In July, a debris flow <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/100-101-102-hh5uvzf9">swept two intercity buses into the Trisuli River</a> along the Mugling-Narayangad Highway 60km west of here. Of the 62 passengers on the two buses, only three were able to swim to safety. Search and rescue teams recovered 27 passengers from the river in the aftermath of the landslide, but neither the buses nor the rest of the passengers have been found.&nbsp; A committee formed by the government to investigate the Simaltal disaster concluded that a new local road constructed farther up the mountain was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon">mainly responsible for the debris flow</a>. The Jhyaple Khola mudslide was a repeat of the July disaster. Locals in Dhading say that the Department of Roads had just completed the retaining wall, and the debris from the excavation done to construct the road had piled up, which the rain swept down to the highway below.&nbsp; Similar unplanned roads constructed further above in Nagdhunga have also clogged up the culverts, which remain uncleared.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_d46e7f612ce53b0c3133219a36ab81c5ef8f7494dc002452580c086d70028652.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241008141044_d46e7f612ce53b0c3133219a36ab81c5ef8f7494dc002452580c086d70028652" data-rendition-name="original" width="2340" height="1560" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  “This disaster occurred because of the locally elected representatives, the Road Department and the contractors,” says local business owner Shyam Kumar Lama. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">You cannot blame it on a natural disaster</a>." “They keep tearing down the retaining walls to build haphazard roads, and replace them with brick walls,” adds Lama. “How is a barely one-foot-thick wall going to stop a landslide?” Geologist Sri Kamal Dwivedi says that the Department of Roads has not heeded the geological risks in excavations for road expansion across the country. “The soil above Jhyaple Khola was loosened by torrential rain, causing a high-speed debris flow onto the highway below,” &nbsp;explains Dwivedi. “Additionally, the possibility of disasters like landslides increases when slopes are cut to make way for road expansion.” Transport expert Kamal Pandey says that disasters like the ones in Simaltal and Jhyaple Khola happen frequently because environmental risks are ignored during investments in road expansion. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers">The revenge of the rivers</a>, Shamshad Ahmad “New roads are dug up like it is some kind of competition,” says Pandey. “But as long as unmanaged excavation continues without plans in place to mitigate landslides, disasters like the one at Jhyaple Khola will continue to happen.” Indeed, this is not the first time a disaster of this scale has struck in Jhyaple Khola. In 2001, a similar debris flow from higher up the hill buried a vehicle on the highway below, killing nine people.&nbsp; Landslides of smaller scales occur in the area every monsoon, but they do not make it to the news. But even as they are used to the frequent landslides, there is now a new kind of fear among residents.&nbsp; “I am overcome with terror every time I look up to the overcast sky,” says Shyam Lama. “We will never be safe in this place as long as the mountains keep falling on top of us.” &nbsp;

"The mountain fell on top of us"

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Earlier this month, Nepal received Rs1.6 billion from the World Bank as part of its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/will-nepal-ever-be-paid-for-saving-trees">Forest Carbon Partnership Facility (FCPF)</a>, rewarding the country for increasing its carbon sink capacity. Nepal is the first in South Asia to benefit from this facility, and it is specifically to recompense the country for increasing forest cover in 13 Tarai districts between 2018-2024. “We are also trying to get another Rs13 billion from the facility while also preparing for free market-based carbon trading in the international market,” says Nabaraj Pudasaini of the REDD (Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation in Developing Countries) Implementation Centre. Big emitters of greenhouse gases are under pressure to reduce their carbon emissions, and many have signed agreements to do so by investing in decarbonisation projects in developing countries. Countries that emit more than a specified amount of carbon would be able to buy emission rights from countries that emit less. Nepal is internationally known for its community forestry program which has been largely credited for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous">increasing tree cover to over 45%</a> in less than three decades. But this achievement had not been adequately recognised or rewarded internationally before. Forests, especially in the tropics, absorb and store large amounts of carbon while releasing oxygen in a process known as photosynthesis. <a href="https://www.fao.org/forest-resources-assessment/en/">Preventing deforestation</a> and increasing canopy cover is considered a much more achievable goal than reducing emission in the scale necessary to limit global average temperature to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels. COP11 in Montreal in 2005 first proposed reducing carbon emissions by improving forest quality by halting degradation. By 2015, a new mechanism of financial assistance was created to help less developed countries with sustainable management of forests <a href="https://www.un-redd.org/">(called REDD+)</a>. Under this new mechanism, countries receive aid based on their efforts to prevent forest degradation and increase carbon sink, and in 2021 the World Bank was entrusted with implementing it. Nepal’s FCPF receipt this month was calculated on the basis of 2.4 million tons of carbon stored at a rate of $5 per ton. In the second phase, Nepal will receive more than Rs4 billion within the next year for storing an additional 7 million tons of carbon. Eighty per cent of this amount obtained from carbon trading needs to be spent on local beneficiaries and indigenous communities.&nbsp; But carbon trading is not easy, Nepal needs to prove that protected forests will not be destroyed in future.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241121091132_c8a381c9a95aa86fec558951650d97bb87914741f01766982ba2b086af001f16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241121091132_c8a381c9a95aa86fec558951650d97bb87914741f01766982ba2b086af001f16" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="Greenbacks for greenery NT "> <figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Explains carbon trading expert Yugan Manandhar. “Forests should be handed over to the community and shown that they are managed sustainably. Proving this will be particularly challenging; forest encroachment and degradation is rife in the Tarai.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepal-is-going-up-in-smoke">Deliberate forest fires</a> have also added to the challenge because they increase carbon emissions and reduce the sink capacity of forests. The basis for the amount that Nepal received was set five years ago by calculating the carbon reserves of forests in the 13 Tarai districts. In the meantime, sustainable forest management, tree plantation, forest destruction and erosion control were prioritised to increase carbon reserves in those forests. Nepal is signing another carbon trading agreement during the ongoing Baku climate conference. The <a href="https://www.leafcoalition.org/">Lowering Emissions by Accelerating Forest finance (LEAF Coalition) </a>proposes to sell the carbon stored in the forests of Bagmati, Gandaki and Lumbini provinces. For this, Nepal signed the letter of intent three years ago at COP26 in Glasgow. The target is to store 70 million tons of carbon in 32 million hectares of forest in the three provinces per which Nepal will receive Rs13 billion in four years at $10 per ton with provisions to increase the rate if various conditions are met. However, the agreement in itself doesn’t guarantee the amount. According to the targets set by Nepal, forest degradation should be stopped and carbon reserves increased by protecting tree cover. Preparations are also underway for clean air carbon trade because it has offset fossil fuel use by introducing 30,000 electric vehicles. Nepal has been selected for the first round to receive $40 million within one and a half years through the Clean Air System of the World Bank. Given that most of Nepal’s energy mix is from biomass, replacing them with electric stoves can significantly improve health by reducing indoor pollution as well as strengthen the country’s capacity for carbon trade. “Nepal's goal now is to sell carbon in the free market where carbon credits are bought and sold based on supply and demand in an open and transparent manner,” adds Pudasaini of the REDD Implementation Centre. “Nepal can now set its own price and bargain with interested buyer countries and organisations.” Lately, India has been discussing setting up a carbon market. Nepal has exported Rs12.72 billion worth of electricity to India so far this fiscal year, which can be traded under Nepal’s carbon market. “Carbon trading can create significant economic benefits for Nepal, which will help reinvest in development and environmental protection projects,” says Manandhar. “But we must prioritise sustainable management of forests, cutting older trees and allowing regrowth as well as promoting electric stoves and electric vehicles.”

Greenbacks for greenery

The Gharial Breeding Centre in Chitwan National Park has for decades played a critical role in saving the endangered fish-eating crocodile from extinction. Now, the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=364">gharial faces a different set of challenges</a>. Climate breakdown is raising the temperature of Nepal’s plains. The Narayani and Rapti Rivers that flow through Chitwan National Park are increasingly polluted. Gharials are often trapped in fishing nets and die. And the reptile has a sex problem. In nature, the gharial’s sex ratio is already skewed, with 8 females for every male gharial. Now, climate change may be widening this gender gap. In fact, during a recent visit the breeding centre had only one male among 32 adult gharial. The male gharial has a distinct bulbous growth at the tip of its snout, which only develops when the reptile reaches adulthood.&nbsp; “It is as if the gharial as a species is predisposed to struggle in its natural habitat,” says Prem Poudel of WWF Nepal, whose Terai Arc Landscape (TAL) program supports conservation in protected areas. "The eggs hatch in July, right in the middle of the flood season.” Gharials lay up to 90 eggs at a time in deep pits along the sandy banks of the Narayani and Rapti in spring. It is only later when growths appear on their snouts that breeders can confirm if they are male or female.&nbsp; Research has shown that if gharial eggs are incubated at higher temperatures, more of them are female when they hatch. This is how global warming could be skewing the sex ratio even more towards female. The breeding centre in Kasara hires Bote fisherfolk indigenous to the area as nest watchers to locate and collect eggs. The eggs are then incubated until they hatch.&nbsp; This year, the breeding centre collected 247 eggs, out of which 195 hatched. The gharial are released when they are five years old. Over the years gharials have been released into Chitwan’s rivers, but also in the Karnali and Babai that run through the Bardia National Park. In 2019,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/gharial-found-breeding-in-nepal-after-37-years"> conservationists discovered the first nesting site</a> of 100 gharials hatchlings in the Babai, and in 2022, 28 baby gharial were found in a tributary of the Karnali.&nbsp; Besides the 32 adults at the breeding centre, there are currently 759 hatchings, sub-adults and juvenile gharial. Meanwhile, 265 gharial were counted last December in their natural habitat inside Chitwan National Park, 152 in the Rapti and 113 in the Narayani. Of them, only six are male, three in each of the rivers.&nbsp; “When we opened the national park, we directed our attention almost exclusively on Nepal’s declining tiger and rhino populations,” recalls Ram Prit Yadav, who was a ranger in the late 1960s even before Chitwan National Park was established, and became its first warden. “It was only later that we realised the wealth of the biodiversity here, including the gharial.” Yadav subsequently led efforts to launch the Gharial Breeding Centre, which was established in 1978. Since then, the gharial population has rebounded but their numbers have declined in the Narayani River mainly due to upstream pollution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241026131052_934ab1b3a6c3a1b53013b9618459543544065e35c958743382022e3425b20a97.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241026131052_934ab1b3a6c3a1b53013b9618459543544065e35c958743382022e3425b20a97" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="There are only few male gharial in nature, and they can only be distinguished by the bulbous growth on their snout. Photo: JUSTIN GRIFFITHS"> </figure>  Meanwhile, in the Rapti, the gharial population has been increasing because the river flows mostly inside the national park where illegal fishing and pollution is monitored. Translocated gharial have not fared as well in the Kosi and Kali Gandaki. Despite this, Yadav considers Nepal’s efforts to save this unique crocodile a success. “The government has put a lot of effort into protecting the gharial, now it is up to us to help,” says Yadav. “Gharials have now established a strong presence in the Rapti, and in Bardia, Banke and Suklaphanta. This is a testament to Nepal’s conservation effort. ”&nbsp; The Department of National Park and Wildlife Conservation (DNPWC) and the Department of Forests collaborated with conservation partners and local communities, to draw up the Gharial Conservation Action Plan (2018-2022) to further breeding research. Even so, conservationists worry about Nepal’s ability to maintain and increase the country’s gharial numbers because of the accelerated destruction of Nepal's riverine habitat from sand-mining, factory effluents, and competition with humans for fish.&nbsp; Says WWF’s Poudel: “There were gharials in all major river ecosystems in the past. Human settlement, river pollution, and dams contributed to them becoming critically endangered.” Gharial often get tangled in the traditional nylon fishing nets used illegally by locals. In 2023, a male gharial was found dead in a tributary of the Rapti River after it was snagged on one such net.&nbsp; The construction of dams and barrages like the one on the Gandaki on the Indian border prevent gharials from swimming back upstream when they are swept down in the monsoon.&nbsp; Says Yadav. “In the long run, we must ensure that these critically endangered animals have clean rivers to thrive in, plenty of fish to feed on, and are not at the risk of being swept downstream.”&nbsp; National park officials here worry that tigers and rhinos get all the media attention, overshadowing gharial conservation — which means the budget for the breeding centre does not get a priority. “We are tasked with the responsibility of rearing and conserving these animals, but funds are decreasing,” a conservation official told us. “We even have to ration meals for the gharial.”&nbsp; Even Yadav acknowledges that Nepal cannot go it alone to protect these rare reptiles for much longer: “Climate change is throwing the sex ratio out of balance, so our conservation effort must extend beyond Nepal’s protected areas to the international stage.” &nbsp;

Crocodile Chronicle

Frontpage topic

At a time when people in most Asian countries practice varying degrees of openness, Trump’s second coming could signal further reversals.&nbsp;
From authoritarian North Korea and China, elected autocracies like Singapore, to formerly democratic countries that are backsliding like the Philippines and Indonesia, the Asia-Pacific region has been witnessing democratic decay for decades.
However, with a new hardline rightwing government in Washington next year, analysts in the region fear further erosion of press freedom, democracy and rule of law in the region. America will no longer have the moral high ground in preaching human rights, democratic values and civic freedoms to the rest of the world.
This will likely be accompanied by Trump’s America ditching traditional allies like South Korea, Japan or Taiwan, or asking them to pay for the US defence umbrella as he tried to do the first time round. His choice of State Department and Department of Defence portfolios in the cabinet shows that a second Trump term may have an even more hardline foreign policy.
Trump’s muddle headedness on bilateral trade and security alliances are likely to leave both allies and adversaries scratching their heads about what America really wants. One outcome could be China filling the vacuum left by America’s retreat from the region. Even Kim Jong-Un is relieved that his old pal is back in the Oval Office, and will not be giving him a hard time about sending 10,000 of his troops to fight in the Russian Army against Ukraine.&nbsp;
Most Asian populations look admiringly at China and Singapore, which have achieved phenomenal economic progress despite limiting political and media freedoms. They are strongly attracted by ‘Asian values’ that emphasises the collective good rather than individual pursuit of happiness, and feel that Westminster-style parliamentary democracy is not really suited to our soil.
It is tempting for them to make a distinction between personal freedom and social, economic and cultural rights of a people. This philosophy has adherents not just in developed Asian economies, middle-income states like Vietnam, Thailand and Indonesia, but also in the poorer parts of the continent where there is a hankering for strongman rule, like in India.
They argue that political pluralism leads to societal divisiveness, undermines a cohesive national ethos, and distracts leaders from focusing their attention to lift living standards of citizens. What is the point of being allowed to vote freely for a political party if there is no freedom from hunger, is the reasoning.
Many in Asia’s badly governed countries are convinced by this argument. The countries with the lowest per capita income in the region are those which practice western-style parliamentary democracy, and they are confined to South Asia. Some of the richest countries in Asia are those ruled by a single party, and emerging economies are sorely tempted to dump democracy for development.
Some have called this the ‘Eastminster’ model, and the latest adherent is the world’s largest democracy, India which has been trying to play economic catchup with its rival, China. Their authoritarian playbook is the same: abandon the doctrine of separation of powers, steadily but steadfastly constrict freedom of expression, manipulate the electoral mechanism, and weaponise social media networks to stoke populist rhetoric against ethnic minorities, migrants, or magnify external threats.
This has worked brilliantly to elect autocrats: in many formerly democratic countries authoritarian leaders have been elected multiple times because of their stranglehold on the levers of power. They have used free election to get to power and then dismantled the very institutions of democracy that got them elected in the first place.
Elected despots have hijacked the court system to deploy strategic lawsuits against public participation (SLAPP) against political rivals, journalists and civil society — framing them on trumped up charges of tax evasion, money laundering or even sedition.
All this has been made possible by the tyranny of the algorithm which has aided and abetted populism on social media platforms, polarising and radicalising voters at election time. The networks have taken over the agenda-setting role of the legacy and linear media. The traditional fact-checking and verifying role of the traditional mainstream media is now undermined because (as seen in the recent US elections) facts do not matter anymore.
Asia’s autocrats have keenly watched the US presidential elections, and they have been taking notes. If the United States and India, with all their constitutional safeguards, can drift into &nbsp;authoritarianism, what hope is there for Asia?
One thing to keep in mind is that countries like Nepal and Sri Lanka or Philippines and Indonesia have tried strongman rule before, and it was a disaster. And there are examples of Asian countries that have prospered because of democratic checks and balances.&nbsp;
Predictions of the demise of democracy in countries of the Asia-Pacific, therefore, may be exaggerated and premature.

Asia’s ‘Eastminster Model’

Rain pelleted the windshield furiously. Iva Maharjan dashed down the footpath and slid into the backseat of the taxi, next to me. We were about to be stuck in Kathmandu traffic for exactly two hours and I would ask her a question around which our time would pivot. Iva goes by the name “That cello girl” on her WhatsApp ID. I had always wondered if the title had more to reveal. “Yes, I play the cello,” she flashed a demure smile. The cello is a stringed instrument, used in various genres of music. It is also known as violincello. I had never met a cellist before! The cello isn’t the instrument Iva has always played. When she was 11, she started to learn to play the violin. “My cousin-brother (Sabin Munikar) had set up a music institute in our house so my father asked me if I was interested in learning the violin,” Iva recalled. Her father, Babukaji Maharjan, a music enthusiast himself, plays the dhimay and the flute. He has been the biggest force behind Iva’s music journey. “If my father hadn’t dropped me off to rehearsals, I wouldn’t be here.” I teared up when Iva said that, as I thought about my own father always holding the light for me. When Iva first learned to play the violin, it was very hard. “It’s uncomfortable and painful in the beginning because you’re not used to putting your hand like that and holding the bow in a certain way. It is also difficult to press on strings, hurts your fingertips," Iva said as she showed me the dead skin on her fingers. "But it was a part of the learning and never did it feel like I didn’t want to do it. I liked being known as someone who could play the violin.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241117111120_fbcff54cb40b5fb4f757c687e83ee79964192e6084cc8441f29bfd0e296854f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241117111120_fbcff54cb40b5fb4f757c687e83ee79964192e6084cc8441f29bfd0e296854f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1620" loading="lazy" alt="Meet the cello girl"> <figcaption>PHOTO: KATHMANDU YOUTH ORCHESTRA / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  While the violin became attached to her identity, it was only in 2017 that her instrument really found her. Iva is part of the Nepal-Norway project, which had donated three cellos to Nepali music groups.&nbsp; They had instruments but not enough players. It was then that her cousin asked her if she wanted to take up the cello. Although not a cellist himself, he taught her how to hold it and where to place her fingers. “I started to practice based on the theory I knew from learning the violin,” Iva said.&nbsp; It was difficult for her to make the transition at first. The violin is in the treble clef and the cello is in the bass clef and so there were different notes on the staff notation to navigate. Yet, a month after picking the cello, Iva played in an orchestra. She debuted as a cellist in 2017 at a performance at the British School: “At that time, my mentor told me, play what you can and leave what you can’t. Just stay focused on the staff notation because you need to know where you are in order to pick the notes that you can play. It was quite simple at that time.” Iva has continued playing the cello after that. “I liked the fact that I didn’t have to hold my hand up anymore. For the violin you have to do that. I could sit and play. I liked the sound. When it’s just the violin, the sound can be quite high pitched. With the cello, it balances it out. It also gives it a more fuller feeling.” As I watched Iva smile and talk about her music, the stillness of the traffic and the fury of the rain had somehow started to wane from my mind. Thinking about Iva in the midst of an orchestra brought a simple and real comfort. She brought out her phone and showed me recordings of her performances.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241117111120_e732ece843b7533b3a7f9896284f55d6789d88b4f0b07eaa379de33e5b6322a2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241117111120_e732ece843b7533b3a7f9896284f55d6789d88b4f0b07eaa379de33e5b6322a2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Meet the cello girl"> <figcaption>Photo: SAGAR CHHETRI</figcaption> </figure>  What also attracted Iva to the instrument was that it was a unique thing to do. There are currently only a couple of cellists in Nepal and Iva is the only female performing. More recently, Iva has formed a string duo with her friend Phoebe Shrestha on the violin. The duo have presented to audiences in Kathmandu. For Dasain, Iva and her friends released a video, in which she plays the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0xMEe9Jxa4&amp;t=60s">Malashree dhun</a>. It stoked audience interest in the instrument as noted in comments. “People love it when we play these kinds of songs because they’ve only seen them played on traditional instruments,” Iva said. Outside, the traffic had started to stir. Iva receives a lot of attention on the streets because of her cello--a 5'2" girl, bearing a 48-inch, 4X4 instrument in her arms. “People are curious what’s in the bag because it looks so big. They think it’s a guitar. But when they see it, they don’t know the word ‘cello’ so they just call it a big violin,” she laughed. Iva also teaches violin and cello: “Most musicians in Nepal teach music at multiple schools to sustain themselves as musicians. It is a bit of a hustle to get from one school to another sometimes. Currently, she has many students learning the violin but only one learning the cello. The student doesn’t own her own instrument. It has mostly to do with the inaccessibility to a cello-- the instrument is large and the cheapest costs close to 70K and has to be pre-ordered and shipped to Nepal. The one Iva plays was donated by the Norwegians to The Kathmandu Youth Orchestra, of which she is a member. The group starts rehearsing a month or two ahead of the orchestra and plan to do a show every year. Iva described the group as “just a bunch of musicians getting together to make music”. Since the orchestra is not able to support the players, they have to find work elsewhere, which also means the orchestra doesn’t always get a full set of musicians at times of performance. Iva's job is unique, and rewarding when people come up to her after a performance. She feels the cello has become a part of her identity now. “I would not like to leave it [the cello] behind. I haven’t thought about what life would be if I was not playing.” It continued to pour. We had finally covered six kilometres and arrived at our destination. Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people in Pratibha’s life.

Meet the cello girl

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me. - Joshua Graham  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116031132_37a416c369c216f9d104804a61d1959f58580f3864816fb1249e4e4d151a9e41.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241116031132_37a416c369c216f9d104804a61d1959f58580f3864816fb1249e4e4d151a9e41" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Miss Moti #1235"> </figure>

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter

For a long time, I believed that being able to speak, read, and understand English meant having the power of knowledge. In hindsight, I also realise that if learning English was simply like picking up another language, my journey would have been much smoother and definitely more enjoyable.&nbsp;
I took pride in learning Maithili from my mother and Tharu from my father’s workplace, and those experiences were both fun and fulfilling.
Previous episodes of this column, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi">Angrezi</a>, explain how I struggled with self-doubt, feelings of inferiority, and low self-esteem because of my deficient English language. When I came to the capital, I realised that English held a different significance in this city.&nbsp;
In <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/the-thappad">my village in Sunsari</a>, it was often seen as a way to show off. In Kathmandu, it represented much more than that: it was a source of power, a means of access, and a gateway to opportunities.
During my first visit to Kathmandu in the late 1990s, I listened to a relative unleashing every possible curse word she knew in English to her sister-in-law. That outburst was triggered by the sister-in-law reporting her brother for domestic violence.&nbsp;
I found the sister-in-law to be incredibly courageous in taking that stand. It was also the first time I heard English being spoken among family members within a home, which surprised me. But this family was considered intelligent simply because its members could speak English. Even though I was only 13 at the time, I couldn’t help but question how someone who believed that domestic violence should be hushed up could be considered smart.&nbsp;
When I came to Kathmandu for my Bachelor’s I encountered a few individuals who enjoyed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/leonardo-and-drew">discussing English films</a>, books, and music, and felt out of place and had little to contribute to the conversations.&nbsp;
At times, I would pretend to engage, while other times I would make excuses to leave early. I also attempted to learn more about the books and films being discussed, but it was exhausting. Despite my silence, I realised that they had information, but lacked deeper understanding.&nbsp;
They seemed captivated by popular music and literature, yet did not grasp the underlying messages those songs and books conveyed. Throughout my nearly year-long <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/from-humiliation-to-humility">work experience at a school library</a>, I remembered there was only one parent who visited. Not a single parent inquired about the types of books their children were reading or what genres excited their interest.&nbsp;
Their primary concern revolved around their child’s English proficiency. Many expressed frustration over their children’s struggle with the language, feeling embarrassed when their children could not communicate effectively in front of relatives and friends.&nbsp;
I recall Wangdi Sir saying that a school is not a language institute. A child may struggle with English, but they may excel in other subjects like science and math. Unfortunately, he struggled to persuade parents who had invested thousands in the hope that their children achieved fluency that it was not that important.&nbsp;
I encountered similar attitudes among parents across the country over the years. Many had moved from rural areas to cities, working tirelessly abroad to afford to send their children to English medium schools. There was also a noticeable bias, as families often prioritised sending sons to these more expensive schools and not their girls.
No wonder, society considers those who can speak English as intelligent, smart, or even a genius. To be sure, mastery of the English language can unlock a wealth of knowledge and provide opportunities for employment worldwide.&nbsp;
However, many do not understand that simply speaking English is not equal to intelligence, if one lacks access to enriching content in literature, art, music, or film. Ultimately, it is an individual’s upbringing, socialisation, choices, and the guidance they receive that plays a crucial role in knowledge and wisdom through English.&nbsp;
The English language is often misinterpreted as a sign of knowledge, not just in Nepal but in other developing countries where education is sometimes prioritised for language skills over true learning.
Ramesh Kumar, an economic journalist with Himalkhabar.com, recently shared on X that Nepali press releases from the World Bank and UN agencies in Kathmandu read like they were Google translated. He noted that hiring communications officers should not solely depend on their proficiency in English, they should also be skilled in the local language.&nbsp;
Relying on Google Translate or AI without understanding the context can lead to lots of embarrassing misunderstandings. Ultimately, all languages serve as tools for expression, but the messages conveyed can vary greatly.
My 5-year-old niece was already speaking English fluently even before she started pre-school. She lives in the village with my parents, where English is rarely spoken unless absolutely necessary. Yet, she picked up the language as if she had grown up in an English-speaking environment.&nbsp;
How did this happen? The secret was her love for cartoons, which she only watches in English. She has been learning both Nepali and English simultaneously, much like I did with Nepali and Maithili. I often wonder how her understanding of being a person, a woman, and a citizen will develop.&nbsp;
Language alone will not shape those identities. I hope we, as Nepalis, can grasp this concept. I also wish that our education system would instill in our children the values of humanity, equality, diversity, and not consider someone ‘civilised’ just because they can rattle off some English.
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal.

English is not the be-all and end-all

Thirty years ago, two years after the Rio Conference on Environment and Development in 1992, a joint research project by Swisspeace and ETH Zurich came to the following conclusion: "The dramatic intensification of global, regional and local environmental crises is making ecological destruction an increasingly important factor in conflicts."&nbsp;
At that time, field research focused on the conflict potential of drought and desertification in the Sahel, of international rivers (for example, in Central Asia) and of destructive mining (including the copper mine on Bougainville).&nbsp;
Among other things, one dissertation dealt with the contribution of the human-ecological stress situation on the "thousand hills" of Rwanda to the genocide of spring 1994. CO2 emissions and climatic changes only emerged nebulously on the horizon as factors influencing crises and conflicts.
Meanwhile, "climate change" is pushing all other issues into the background. When run-down regimes, such as the one in Syria, blame all problems in the country on global climate change, you have to ask whether everything is going right.&nbsp;
It was precisely this question that was critically examined at a recent joint symposium in Hamburg organised by the Institute for Peace Research and Security Policy at the University of Hamburg and the Toda Peace Institute.&nbsp;
Researchers from the Pacific Islands Countries of Fiji, Tuvalu, Cook Islands, Samoa and Vanuatu, in dialogue with participants from Germany, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Finland, Norway and Denmark, among others, underlined the complex and multi-layered threats to the Pacific islands.&nbsp;
The action-oriented researchers opposed international "climate reductionism" and the deterministic view associated with it, according to which rising seas would mean the inevitable demise of the island world.&nbsp;
The indigenous populations counter the doomsday fantasies with an alternative narrative that draws on their rich philosophical and spiritual sources. This seems to be one of the reasons why, despite the enormous challenges, the indigenous people radiate an astonishing serenity and, contrary to the widespread 'victim' narrative, point to their own 'agency'. The indigenous researchers postulate: &nbsp;
"The whole thing must be preserved!"
The term "(Pasifika) relationality" is intended to highlight the deep and ultimately boundless relationships between man and nature, past and future, ancestors and future generations. The individual only exists as part of the whole. Or, as one participant from Samoa put it, "We have no land, we are the land. We have no sea, we are the sea."&nbsp;
The land is "the anchor of our identity", added a participant from Fiji. This means that the indigenous population has no choice but to use all their physical and spiritual strength and the innovative application of traditional knowledge that spans generations in order to maintain their "place" together with the graves of their ancestors on the land they have inherited.&nbsp;
Resettlements—if at all possible—from coastal to higher areas, for example, are therefore painful and traumatic events. It is important that resettlement is a community decision and that it is taken voluntarily and after all other adaptation steps have been exhausted. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
The indigenous people certainly see climate change as a major challenge. It is not only causing the sea to rise, but also an increase in devastating cyclones and other extreme weather events. These cause them more concern in their everyday lives than the supposed sinking of the islands. Islands are not the Titanic. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
The indigenous people experience the threat and the possible loss of their "place" in a double sense: &nbsp;
<ul>
 <li>Climate change affects the indigenous population in the form of structural violence, which is the fault of the industrialised countries and the former colonial rulers. The violence, which is perceived as global injustice, manifests itself as a growing gap between the current situation and what is possible and feasible in the future to lead the island world into a secure future.</li>
 <li>The current and expected loss of livelihoods leads to social upheaval and political tensions, especially when local governments allow themselves to be taken in by the former colonial rulers for quick "solutions" without consultation. These include evacuations, resettlement programs and forced forms of climate migration, for example, to Australia, New Zealand and the USA (especially Hawaii). The loss of land brought about by "false emergency aid" and local politics is perceived by the indigenous people as "cultural violence", which threatens the very core of the community by breaking up the holistic relationality.</li>
</ul>
Structural or cultural violence does not necessarily lead to physical or armed violence. As the Pacific islanders impressively demonstrate, they are trying to achieve innovative and peaceful results through dialogue, resilience and international diplomacy. So far, only Bougainville has seen a major civil war in the greater region, which was partly caused in the 1990s by the catastrophic environmental impact of a copper mine operated by Rio Tinto Zinc. &nbsp;
For comparison, in other geographical contexts, massive acts of violence can also be attributed to environmental changes. As the civil war and mass displacement in Darfur (West Sudan) show, the increasing pressure on land resources, changing land use rights and patterns, pronounced droughts and climate-induced desertification have fueled inter-tribal as well as regional and cross-border violent conflicts.&nbsp;
With the help of the military junta of El Bashir, these culminated in the genocidal civil war that broke out in 2004, displacing millions of people. As the then leader of the janjaweed militia and war criminal Hemeti could not be handed over to the ICC, he is still able to reduce Sudan to rubble in a power struggle with General Burhan; he is doing this not least with the help of the Wagner Group and the subsequent Russian Africa Corps, which is particularly keen on the gold mines in North Darfur.&nbsp;
What is happening in Darfur today applies to the entire Sahel region: fragile statehood, military coups, terrorist and criminal violence and dysfunctional gerontocracies (Cameroon) now characterise an entire region of the world where livelihoods are already under widespread threat from climate change and local environmental degradation. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
Learning from the Pacific way could also be a constructive approach elsewhere that strives for peace, security and sustainability. Against the backdrop of potential conflicts and an island population that has become vulnerable, the widely supported "Toda Pacific Declaration on Climate Change, Conflict and Peace" of 2018 is a milestone. After an introductory description of the problem, it states: "Therefore, responses to climate change adaptation require both conflict prevention measures and conflict-sensitive approaches that prioritize local contexts and the maintenance of peace."&nbsp;
A whole list of concrete measures follows, ranging from the adaptation of international environmental law and the reduction of greenhouse gas emissions to local, culturally adapted and nature-related activities. "Rights of nature" are contrasted with an anthropocentric exploitation scheme. The motto is to grow together and not at the expense of others (other people and other non-human living beings as well as future generations). &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
Those who are literally in danger of losing the ground under their feet should remember their roots. "After me, the deluge" has never and nowhere been a sensible answer.
Günther Baechler, PhD, was head of the joint research project by Swisspeace and ETHZ project in the 1990s: Environmental Degradation and Conflict. After 2007, he returned to Darfur as Switzerland's special envoy. He was a mediator in the "Doha Process" led by the UN and the AU.&nbsp;
&nbsp;This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and is being republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2024/we-have-no-land-we-are-the-land.-we-have-no-sea-we-are-the-sea.html">the original</a> with their permission.

We Have No Land, We Are The Land. We Have No Sea, We Are The Sea

Nepali Times #1236 (22-28 November 2024)

At the age of five, Dorjee Karmarong fell sick and his local healer-slash-thangka painter cut him a deal: in exchange for treatment, the young patient had to promise to become a painter. The shaman may have been joking, but 38 years later, Karmarong is a successful international artist, and now has a solo exhibition at the Siddhartha Art Gallery. ‘Karmarong: Hidden Valley in the Himalayas’ is a collection of 27 paintings spread across two floors that give the viewer a comprehensive feel for life among the Karmarong community in the remote Mugu district of Karnali. Karmarong has a distinctive style featuring clean outlines, vibrant colours and detailed natural landscapes. Animals, mountains, trees, and the sun and the moon appear constantly. It is a style that took 20 years to perfect, as the painter practised teaching in monasteries of Bangladesh, India, Singapore, and most recently in Vietnam. Mugu is one of the remotest districts in Nepal, but the Karmarong community of about 3,000 people live in about a dozen small villages in the remotest northern corner of the district near the Chinese border. They speak their own dialect. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-present-meets-the-past">The present meets the past</a>, Pinki Sris Rana  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004111032_46339bbefd7b9007dedde289f8c4db9980a60e19ab5a7e0c11c5f1ba4817ba68.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241004111032_46339bbefd7b9007dedde289f8c4db9980a60e19ab5a7e0c11c5f1ba4817ba68" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="Dorjee Karmarong NT 1"></figure>  Some of the paintings show general goings-on in Karmarong, such as harvest time. ‘The Hospitality of Karmarong’ shows residents gathering to formally welcome an important guest. “In front is someone who is still lucky to have both parents,” explains the painter. ‘Magic of Milarepa’ is a closeup of a grey, cracked yak horn on the floor. There is water on the ground next to the horn, and inside is a green-skinned monk, meditating in robes. “Milarepa was travelling with one of his students in Tibet, who was starting to act a little arrogant. They were suddenly caught up in a storm, and the saint shrank himself and sheltered in the horn, humbling his disciple,” Karmarong explains. Yaks are a constant feature in the exhibition, and the painter Karmarong has given them sentient eyes, with emotions like anger, introspection, suspicion, and even wide-eyed and crazed. “I was once told to study as voraciously as a yak grazes,” says Karmarong. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/human-spiritual-existence-in-a-digital-ecosystem">Human spiritual existence in a digital ecosystem</a>, Kashish Das Shrestha  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004111032_271aba25a6f1eb642433ef504880407a9b36fea72a85e793a6d70e12299d9274.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241004111032_271aba25a6f1eb642433ef504880407a9b36fea72a85e793a6d70e12299d9274" data-rendition-name="original" width="2400" height="3600" loading="lazy" alt="Dorjee Karmarong NT 1"></figure>  In the middle of ‘The Dance of the Elements’ is a face that is half yellow and half black holding a cigarette around which is coiled a multi-headed serpent. “Thia represents our animal impulses,” Karmarong explains. “It is about how nature makes beautiful things. But when humans tamper with it, something usually goes wrong.” Other pieces are even more abstract. ‘Mandala Fragment’ shows geometric shapes in vibrant colours. Says Karmarong: “It may seem chaotic to a viewer, but I can step back and see something different.” Behind Karmarong’s extraordinary skill and output is a rare life lived in harmony with fate. Even his birth was auspicious: Karmarong was born in a cave to parents returning from working in Himachal Pradesh in India on the eve of Buddha Purnima and Thursday. By age seven Karmarong’s father took him to a cave to learn Tibetan. At 13, the boy was sent to a monastery in Kathmandu and after six years he decided to pursue painting and became an apprentice to master thangka artist Palden. Karmarong trained intensively under the rigid rules of thangka painting. He then met Tenzin Norbu from Dolpo, who helped develop his spiritual connection to art. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/turning-legends-into-games">Turning legends into games</a>, Vishad Raj Onta  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004111032_3f2d5f809a4230bbee885a2832c2e6872b743343581a96d177fae87885759d76.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241004111032_3f2d5f809a4230bbee885a2832c2e6872b743343581a96d177fae87885759d76" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1412" loading="lazy" alt="Dorjee Karmarong NT"></figure>  As Karmarong developed artistically and spiritually, he saw art as a fulfilment of his karma. “I started feeling that, in a past life, I had been a yogi who had wanted to build a monastery but couldn’t find an artist,” he says. The yogi committed to a life of dharma to be reborn as an artist. Indeed, there are records of a yogi from Karmarong region named Jimpa Therchan, who struggled with building a monastery and was also a renowned poet and singer. Karmarong also sings, and has written ‘Turquoise Mountain: A Folktale of the Karmarong.’ The titles of the paintings are evocative: ‘Yak’s Reprieve’, ‘Echoes of the Sacred Route’, ‘The Black Yak’s Grace’, or 'The Yak and His Young Keeper.' He is also a YouTuber and his channel has singing performances, rap songs and travel vlogs. Karmarong has depicted his village as a religious, harmonious Shangri-La, although it leaves the viewer a little curious about the darker realities of the place like Milarepa’s own murky past. Karmarong has perhaps consciously or unconsciously woven his own life into the paintings: stories and destinies that translate into the real world. They show travellers leaving from or returning to Karmarong the place, or going on a pilgrimage, reflecting the artist’s own artistic, spiritual and religious journey that has taken him back to his roots. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/mask">MASK</a>, Sonia Awale ‘Karmarong: Hidden Valley in the Himalayas’ Dorjee Karmarong Siddhartha Art Gallery

Karmarong in Karmarong

The Imadol neighbourhood of Kathmandu Valley was among the worst hit by last weekend’s devastating floods. The Manohara River, swollen by incessant rainfall, overflowed into the settlements along its banks. A photograph taken by French anthropologist Corneille Jest in monsoon 1972 shows the Manohara meandering across a wide plain, its banks lush with ripening paddy. Two farmers cross the field carrying a kharpan, a sturdy traditional bamboo basket carried on shoulders, that has almost vanished from the Valley today. It is a tranquil view of a once-emerald Valley and its unique civilisation that blended urban living with intense agriculture on the fertile topsoil. Gazing at these images shows us the life and times of Old Nepal. This and other photographs taken by Jest during his research in Nepal’s Dolpo and Kathmandu 60 years ago are a reminder of how much in Nepal has changed, and what remains the same. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-passage-of-time-in-photos">Kathmandu’s passage of time in photos</a>, Ashish Dhakal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024100505108_e5eae5b7745301134e49b009d519326ea826f2e11c76b33aa63ea13734fa9d2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024100505108_e5eae5b7745301134e49b009d519326ea826f2e11c76b33aa63ea13734fa9d2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="An anthropologist's perspective of Nepal"> <figcaption>Offering a prayer flag at a pass above Tukuche in 1963.</figcaption> </figure>  Jest visited Nepal every other year since 1960, and the exhibition itself shows us the passage of time -- it is aesthetic and evocative, a lament and sometimes deeply nostalgic.&nbsp; The exhibition is organised by Mémoires de l’Himalaya, a French association that works to preserve works on the trans-Himalayan region. Jest was a prolific photographer and out of the 45,000 negatives in his collection, &nbsp;almost 100 black and white and colour prints were selected for this exhibition at the Patan Museum. “The data researchers collect rarely helps the community being studied.. So, it was Jest's idea and ours as an organisation to give back, what we can, to the local community,” says Rémi Chaix of Mémoires de l’Himalaya, who is also one of the curators. “The field notes taken by Jest can also be accessed.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-nepal-s-history-colourful">Making Nepal’s history colourful</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004091020_eb98695b6253e9dde6f051b24596bc09060834bdba1219b9cff2ac080540c63c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241004091020_eb98695b6253e9dde6f051b24596bc09060834bdba1219b9cff2ac080540c63c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="3000" loading="lazy" alt="An Anthropologist's Early Glimpses of Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Members of the Tarap community at Dolpo's Drolma Pass during their pilgrimage to the Buddha-ri sacred mountain in 1960.Corneille Jest - Mémoires de l'Himalaya</figcaption> </figure>  Curated by Fernand Meyer, Kunsang Namgyal-Lama and Chaix, the first floor of the museum showcases photographs of Kathmandu Valley and the second floor is dedicated to Dolpo, especially Tarap Valley where Jest spent most of his time. This curatorial choice of placing the photographs of a place in a specific floor is important, allowing viewers to keep the two worlds separate. The photographs on the first floor are exclusive and published for the first time. There is also an 11 minute documentary on loop that captures the 1968 Seto Machhindranath festival. One does not just get to see this era but even hear its sounds. Photos of Dolpo on the second floor show how little the landscape and dwellings of this remote region has changed in the past decades, although with the road now reaching the district it will inevitably undergo rapid transformation. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/memories-of-an-archivist">Memories of an archivist</a>, Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004091020_ae632fde3aac88ac90bad7e348904446b10b793d650d7bfc4a2f7a977f6f84cc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241004091020_ae632fde3aac88ac90bad7e348904446b10b793d650d7bfc4a2f7a977f6f84cc" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="884" loading="lazy" alt="An Anthropologist's Early Glimpses of Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Attendees at a Buddhist ritual, Tarap, 1963.Corneille Jest - Mémoires de l'Himalaya</figcaption> </figure>  Some of the Dolpo photographs have already been published in Jest’s books like ‘Tales of The Turquoise: A Pilgrimage in Dolpo’. “Jest had a habit of clicking the same image twice. One would be in black and white and the other would be in colour,” explains Chaix who along with other two curators had to decide which would be a better fit for the exhibit. Jest’s photos of Dolpo are intimate and let the audience peek into the Himalayan lifestyle at the time. Researching about the Himalayan people and the culture while living in Tarap Valley, Jest developed a particular affinity for Dolpo, shares Guillaume Jest, one of Corneille’s sons, who was here at the inauguration of the exhibition.&nbsp; “I think that my father’s fondness for the population of Dolpo and their religion and culture comes from the fact that they build their way of life in a very harsh but breathtaking world of the high valleys of the Himalayas,” says Guillaume. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/adventures-of-a-lone-archivist">Adventures of a lone archivist</a>, Alisha Sijapati  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004091020_6cba26cf4cd2c38db65a4b00966f58ed87d46de3e01c8927f6ac1d8d3f5cadc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241004091020_6cba26cf4cd2c38db65a4b00966f58ed87d46de3e01c8927f6ac1d8d3f5cadc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1666" loading="lazy" alt="An Anthropologist's Early Glimpses of Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Terraced maize and paddy fields during the 1972 monsoon at Imadol, which has been built over and was submerged on 28 September.Corneille Jest - Mémoires de l'Himalaya</figcaption> </figure>  Being an anthropologist, Jest’s focus is always on the people he encounters and the landscape or architecture being props. This is a rich visual documentation of what people wore, what they ate, what the houses looked like, their daily work in the fields, the harvest process, cultural rituals and celebrations. “Corneille Jest’s photographs give us a rare insight into the everyday life, culture, and landscapes of Nepal during a pivotal period in the country’s history, just after its opening to the rest of the world. They reveal the depth and diversity of Nepali culture,” says Virginie Corteval, French Ambassador to Nepal, who opened the exhibition last week. She adds: “These represent a testimony of the important work by pioneer French researchers such as Corneille Jest or Sylvain Lévi, in studying the diversity of the Nepali civilisation.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-archive-of-nepali-heritage">An archive of Nepali heritage</a>, Ashish Dhakal <h2>Lalita Niwas 60 years ago</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241004091020_72859aaf3e5f323bfce71e7adb8ba84fe1016e7e7323b4b3458570be22572146.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241004091020_72859aaf3e5f323bfce71e7adb8ba84fe1016e7e7323b4b3458570be22572146" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="An Anthropologist's Early Glimpses of Nepal NT"> </figure>  The Lalita Niwas Land grab scandal is making headlines today, and has implicated the high and mighty of the land. But few know what the original palace of Subarna Shumsher Rana looked like. Corneille Jest’s aerial photograph in 1963 of the neoclassical palace gives us an idea of the grandeur and size of the complex that spread over a 7 hectare plot in Baluwatar. After the property was nationalised during the Panchayat, it has been fragmented, bought and sold numerous times. The scandal has put 18 of the 310 individuals charged behind bars. The building now houses the Nepal Rastra Bank.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19789#.YX-e4S8w3u0">The first photographs of us</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit An Anthropologist’s Early Glimpses of Nepal 10AM-6PM Till 18 October Patan Museum

The present meets the past

Nepali activist Radha Paudel who works on dignified menstruation through her foundation shows in her new book just how pervasive menstrual discrimination is around the world.&nbsp;
Menstrual Stories: An Anthology from Global South is replete with tales of stigma, taboo, mockery, disrespect, shame, teasing, bullying by boys that persists.&nbsp;
Radha Paudel is a nurse who has worked in government hospitals across Nepal, and wrote an harrowing account about being caught up in the Maoist attack on Jumla in 2002. She turned into a dignified menstruation activist because of the discrimination and ostracisation she herself faced while growing up in Chitwan.
She established the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation and Radha Paudel Foundation which hosted a six-month virtual fellowship in 2023 with participants from Austria, Bangladesh, Costa Rica, Malawai, Nepal, Nigeria, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, and the UK.&nbsp;
The book is an outcome of those interactions where campaigners across the world spoke about their own experiences of having their first periods, the reaction of their families, school mates and peers.
A thread running through all the stories is that no matter where in the world women are, rich countries or poor, North or South, educated or uneducated, menstrual taboos persist to a greater or lesser degree.
There are stories of girls not telling their parents because the first bleeding was “too sensitive”, the restrictions on the freedom of young women by family members, schools not teaching reproductive health with accuracy and the right values.
In one school in Dhaka, biology text books had the chapter on sexual reproduction stapled shut. Many young men in Colombia’s conservative Catholic families even refused to answer questions in a survey about menstruation, and some confused menstruation with masturbation.
In Nepal, the lack of separate restrooms for girls in schools and shame about menstruation has contributed to the high female dropout rate after Grade 5. The practice of chhaupadi in western Nepal is an extreme form of menstrual banishment.&nbsp;
Paudel does not like the word chhaupadi because it is “too neutral”, and does not convey the discrimination.
The books also has examples of women across the world resisting the stigma and taboos, and spreading awareness.&nbsp;
A marathon runner in the UK recently ran without pads and ‘let the blood flow freely’. A Chinese athlete who won a medal at an international sports event was frank in her answer to a question from the media about her performance: she said she was having her periods.
Writes Laura Contreras-Aristizabal from Colombia: “It is ironic that despite the fact that more than half of the world’s population is made up of women and menstruating individuals, menstruation is still stigmatized and a taboo subject.”
We know there are even more serious problems of female genital mutilation in some parts of the world. But for the more pervasive and persistent occurrence of menstural discrmination, this slim volume offers practical solutions in schools and society to ensure a more dignified approach to accepting the monthly biological cycle in women without stigma.&nbsp;

Menstruation is normal, period

For two decades, more than 100,000 refugees driven out of Bhutan lived in camps in Morang and Jhapa districts of Nepal.&nbsp; Bhutan's Lhotshampa Nepali-speaking ethnic community faced an uncertain future after Thimphu refused to take them back, and Nepal struggled with the growing responsibility of hosting such a large refugee population. In 2008, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) launched its largest-ever resettlement program to address this humanitarian need, relocating the refugees across eight nations. The United States took 85% of the total, while much smaller numbers went to Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the UK, Norway, Denmark, and 355 found a new home here in The Netherlands. From countries with the highest mountains in the world, they had come to the lowest-lying country, and the resettlement has been considered a success, thanks partly to the tailored cultural and skills training offered, easing both cultural adaptation and economic integration.&nbsp; The people from Bhutan in The Netherlands are well-integrated, with many contributing actively to the Dutch economy. Ten entrepreneurs from Bhutan have opened or franchised ‘I Love Sushi’ restaurants, while others moved on to set up their own establishments.&nbsp; At least seven run Indian restaurants across the country (below). Industrial cities like Zaandam and Raalte have become a hub for those from Bhutan resettled here. Some youngsters are engineers, others are pursuing higher studies at Dutch universities. Despite the success of the resettlement program, challenges remain. Roughly 7,000 of the refugees, mostly the elderly, still live in Nepal, hoping one day to go back to their homeland.&nbsp; The corruption scandal in Nepal in 2023 in which senior government officials and human traffickers were convicted for trying to smuggle Nepalis to the United States on fake refugee certificates in return for up to Rs5 million each, cast a heavy shadow over the community. “The impact of this scandal on genuine Bhutanese refugees is profound,” human rights activist Ram Karki told us (see profile below). “It further eroded their trust in the host government and hope for a better future.”&nbsp; Due to ongoing legal proceedings against those involved, refugees still left in the camps do not have access to relief supplies.&nbsp; Karki adds, “Their 5-year refugee identity cards have yet to be renewed, and their travel abroad has been halted as the Nepal government has stopped issuing travel documents.” &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Lalit and Mamta</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241123021156_63f5e4cb9de7b2189cb4b97eeda818a1c5e13774b4765a3f2cbac3887ae50ccf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241123021156_63f5e4cb9de7b2189cb4b97eeda818a1c5e13774b4765a3f2cbac3887ae50ccf" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="From the Himalaya to Holland"> <figcaption>Photo: UTTAM KAFLE</figcaption> </figure>  Diners had filled up the terrace of Mamta Indian Tandoori &amp; Curry Restaurant on the lakeside of Harderwijk one recent unusually warm evening. A group of young Dutch guests were celebrating a bachelors' party with drinks and snacks. A family visiting the City Museum ordered curry, rice and nan. An elderly couple asked for wine and a plate of samosa. Restaurant owners Lalit and Mamta Basnet were busy preparing the orders. &nbsp; Visitors checking out the menu could be excused for thinking Mamta is a typical Indian tandoori restaurant. But Lalit and Mamta are refugees from Bhutan who spent 15 years in camps in Nepal before being resettled in The Netherlands two decades ago.&nbsp; They have built a successful &nbsp;business in a popular lakeside area of Gelderland province, and they are not the only successful refugees from Bhutan based here.&nbsp; Lalit was 12 years old when his family was evicted from Bhutan, and taken in Indian lorries to the Nepal border and dumped there. &nbsp; “My dad came to fetch me from the hostel I was staying in,” Lalit recalls. “We were packed into trucks with other villagers and taken across the Nepal border to Kakarbhita. I had no clue what was going on, and actually enjoyed the adventure.” But soon Lalit’s excitement turned into anxiety, he was among tens of thousands Lhotshampa forcibly removed from Bhutan in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and housed in refugee camps in Nepal's Jhapa and Morang districts.&nbsp; “I first stayed in Maidhar camp. Many people died there from disease,” Lalit relates. “We would see dead bodies being carried away to the river for cremation. We felt we could all die at any time – I still feel traumatised by that.”&nbsp; Lalit's family was later moved to Beldangi III camp where conditions improved because of aid from agencies like Caritas, LWF Nepal, Nepal Red Cross Society, Save the Children, and UNHCR.&nbsp; Lalit and Mamta met in Class 8 at a refugee school. They fell in love, but she was going through a hard time because both her parents had died from lack of medical care. Mamta says, “My siblings and I were raised by our aunt and grandmother. We had no idea what our future would be like.” Thanks to a scholarship from LWF Nepal, Lalit received a good education. Most other refugees could not go to school outside the camps because they needed citizenship papers.&nbsp; Lalit ended up as an asylum seeker in The Netherlands in 2004, and started out in Zwolle with a good support network and free language classes.&nbsp; When Mamta joined a year later, he worked as a cook at an Indian restaurant. Their two sons are also in Holland, one has now started a company for kitchen renovations and the other is in medical school. Once their language skills improved, the couple registered their own company. At that time refugees could apply for an interest-free loan of €35,000, to be paid back in five years.&nbsp; Lalit did some market research and found that Harderwijk, a historical Hanseatic town with an impressive waterfront, would be their best option.&nbsp; The entrepreneurial couple started out in 2008 with their first small place, and quickly learned that the local clientele had little interest in momo and noodles.&nbsp; With the help of an Indian cook, the menu expanded to tandoori and curry dishes (“without beef”). A few years later the Basnets were able to buy the current property on the recently renovated waterfront.&nbsp; They survived the Covid crisis and soon found that apart from locals, many people from surrounding towns were travelling to find their restaurant which stocks Kingfisher beer from India and Khukri rum from Nepal.&nbsp; “It’s mostly word of mouth publicity,” says a modest Lalit. Mamta adds, “If you like this line of work, it’s great. Talking to people, making them happy. It has to come from the heart, it shouldn’t be about making money. Dutch people are kindhearted. Our guests are happy.” &nbsp; It is no surprise then that Mamta Indian Tandoori &amp; Curry Restaurant scores an 8.8 on Tripadvisor from over 500 reviews.&nbsp; The Basnets have little time for socialising. Most of their free time is used to travel to the United States where Mamta’s ex-refugee siblings from Bhutan were resettled. As much as possible, Dasain and Tihar are celebrated together with others from Bhutan now based in The Netherlands.&nbsp; Do they still dream of one day returning to their homeland? “That hope has vanished,” admits Lalit, “most of us from Bhutan now dream of staying in the West.”&nbsp; Mamta nods: “I would love to go for a visit, but this is the place we want to be. Our life actually started here.” <h2>Ram Karki</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112303110_48aff5eff4cfdb3c2ef9255d41aedaaa82b0239a467de4232ebc0e2c86a2e278.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024112303110_48aff5eff4cfdb3c2ef9255d41aedaaa82b0239a467de4232ebc0e2c86a2e278" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="From the Himalaya to Holland"> <figcaption>Ram Karki</figcaption> </figure>  Running a restaurant by day, campaigning by night. That pretty much sums up the life of Ram Karki from Bhutan in his new home at The Hague.&nbsp; Last August, the human rights activist addressed high-ranking officials from Bhutan at a United Nations meeting in Geneva. It was the first time a former refugee from Bhutan had confronted an official from the home country directly at the UN.&nbsp; Karki urged his former government to grant “immediate and unconditional amnesty to all political prisoners”, and called for the repatriation of Bhutan’s exiles wishing to return home. He also demanded that former citizens be allowed to visit Bhutan on tourist visas. A few months before the Geneva event, Karki had stood outside the International Court of Justice at The Hague, holding a sign that read, ‘There is no Gross National Happiness in Bhutan’. He was joined by members of the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan, an organisation he co-founded.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112303110_ea434270349f2867fe749c4fd23b045a80d65a7cc1704655592cc90a10d5f856.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024112303110_ea434270349f2867fe749c4fd23b045a80d65a7cc1704655592cc90a10d5f856" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="From the Himalaya to Holland"> <figcaption>Ram Karki (far right) and colleagues at the International Court of Justice. Photo: GCRPPB(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  When not campaigning, 54-year-old Karki is busy managing the Himalayan restaurant, a cosy nook nestled in a narrow alleyway of the Dutch capital.&nbsp; “When my wife Jamuna and I opened this place in 2006, we were the only Indian restaurant around. Now there are over 50, and competition is fierce,” says Karki, a father of two. The restaurant was mostly closed during the Covid pandemic, but he used the time well to obtain a Master’s in Sociology. The Himalayan offers a mix of Indian, Nepali and Bhutanese cuisine. Karki’s day often extends well past midnight, as he prepares for virtual meetings to coordinate human rights advocacy efforts across different time zones.&nbsp; “It’s not an easy business,” admits the activist/restaurateur, crediting his wife and dedicated staff for helping him keep it afloat. “But I need to provide for my family and fund my human rights campaign.” Karki’s journey began in 1990 when he fled Bhutan after friends were arrested for opposing the Druk regime’s discriminatory laws. From India, he helped organise peaceful protests, including a demonstration where 25,000 protesters were met with gunfire from the Royal Bhutan Army.&nbsp; When Lhotshampa refugees began arriving in Nepal, Karki helped establish the first refugee camp in Maidhar of Jhapa district. In 2002, Karki came to The Netherlands, where he attended a human rights conference and sought asylum.&nbsp; “I chose The Netherlands because of its commitment to human rights, being home to the International Court of Justice and a voice in the EU and UN,” he explains. Learning Dutch was difficult at first, and getting his citizenship documents, Karki together with his wife opened the Himalayan restaurant in 2007.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112303110_9c73eb5e084793462ea654079e42d9260913258682edc2f86b028b6cfe60eb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024112303110_9c73eb5e084793462ea654079e42d9260913258682edc2f86b028b6cfe60eb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="765" height="1020" loading="lazy" alt="From the Himalaya to Holland"> <figcaption>Karki's Himalayan restaurant.</figcaption> </figure>  As the Bhutan refugee resettlement program gained momentum, Karki played a vital role in helping 355 exiled compatriots find a new home in The Netherlands. Not one to rest on his laurels, Karki organised the newcomers into the Bhutanese Community in the Netherlands (BCN), becoming a mentor to aspiring restaurant owners.&nbsp; “Some call me their guru,” he smiles. “Yes, a few of them worked here before starting their own restaurants. But we all share what we know, and sometimes small loans.” One of Karki’s ongoing battles is for fair treatment of elderly refugees in the Dutch ‘inburgering’ process, a mandatory integration course for citizenship. Refugees who fail the language test cannot apply for full citizenship, with few exemptions granted for those with documented medical conditions.&nbsp; “Twenty elderly Bhutanese, including my illiterate parents-in-law, haven’t passed the test and are still without citizenship. This limits their ability to travel to places where visas are required,” Karki explains.&nbsp; The campaigner led a delegation of elderly refugees from Bhutan to the Dutch Parliament to push for change. “Many have family in the US and they are unable to visit. There’s a psychological aspect, too—they want to die as full citizens of their new country. Since the Dutch government invited them, they should grant elderly from Bhutan full citizenship rights.” What keeps Karki going? “Some of the friends I campaigned with in 1990 are still in prison back home. That pain drives me every day. I am leading a good life here in Holland, while they continue to suffer.”

From the Himalaya to Holland

Khukri Rum is <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3719#.WurBk6SFPIU">one of Nepal’s most iconic brands</a>, and is now launching a new Cask Series premium product to sell in Nepal and abroad. The Cask Series Smoked Finish Khukri Rum is a limited edition with only about 7,000 bottles, most of it for export and rest to be sold to rum connoisseurs in Nepal itself. Each bottle is numbered and will mention the cask from which it is derived. “We are working on taking a classic Nepali rum to a new luxury premium brand category, the Cask Series will only be produced this year with new product ranges in future,” explains Subash Lamichhane, managing director of Nepal Distilleries that first started making Khukri rum in 1959 in Balaju and has never stopped. Fermented from molasses in Bara district in the Tarai after the annual sugarcane harvest, the rum is matured for at least eight months during distillation. The distillery bottles the classic Khukri XXX, Coronation Khukri XXX, Khukri White Rum and Khukri Spiced Rum.&nbsp; The distillery is now adding this limited edition of its ‘Cask Series’. While the original rum is stored in huge wooden vats, the rum used for this more exclusive line is in smaller casks made either from oak or sal, with charred insides to give the rum a smoky flavour. The Cask Series rum is indeed smokier than the classic, while the spiced rum tastes toasty and mostly of cardamom. The company has a tasting suite with a master blender and tasters who have to approve the palate test.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241122131124_10b8ddca93b37b0348bf964b4f09e7fac6ef4e754cca6231368850539cd558e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241122131124_10b8ddca93b37b0348bf964b4f09e7fac6ef4e754cca6231368850539cd558e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1498" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Khukri Rum"> </figure>  The packaging for the Cask Series is as special as the process. A sturdy patterned box that opens up to a black glass bottle with gold lettering, and an indication of which cask the rum is from. These are then shipped to premium customers around the world One of the reasons this is the more expensive premium line is because the casks are smaller than the vats and the blenders reject more than half of the rum in the casks when the aging period is complete. The trick for the blender is also to decide when to take the run out of the cask.&nbsp; Says Lamichhane: “If we have 25 casks, we expect to throw away about fifteen.”Over the decades, Nepal Distilleries have created and maintained a brand that feels quintessentially Nepali, and has served as Nepal’s ‘ambassador’ with exports to Germany, Korea, Belgium, Finland, the Czech Republic, besides the existing markets among Nepalis in the US, UK, Hong Kong and Australia. &nbsp;Its unique <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khukri-rum-sharpens-its-act">khukri shaped bottle</a> first introduced for King Birendra’s coronation in 1975 has been a collector’s item. The bottle and rum have been a staple for Nepalis and visitors to take as gifts when they leave the country, and is used as decoration on bar tables around the world. Now, nearly 40 years later, even that bottle will soon be getting a makeover with a sharper design and sleeker handle. “Our bottle design has always been instantly recognisable, and it is,” says Lamichhane. The Himalayan restaurant at The Hague, for example, has a Khukri Coronation bottle adorning its bar (page 6-7). In Washington DC Himalayan Heritage Restaurant &amp; Bar offers ‘Nepalese Khukri Rum’ mojito in its drinks menu with fresh mint, soda water, lime juice and sugar syrup, for $12.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241122131124_b9474db3fc83c85845348dddc30c49652ee1f17229531867fa241de50849cedc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241122131124_b9474db3fc83c85845348dddc30c49652ee1f17229531867fa241de50849cedc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Khukri Rum NT"> <figcaption>Christopher Armes, master blender of the Cask Series.</figcaption> </figure>  A distinct element of the award-winning <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/khukri-rum-gets-award">classic Khukri rum</a> is its burgundy colour from caramel sourced from cooking sugar and blended with the raw rum. The spirits are then stored in a warehouse with floor-to-ceiling vats. The vats are not just for storage, the wood in the vats imparts flavour into the rum, and removes a lot of the harshness. &nbsp; On a visit this week, the bottling room was just about to begin for the day and the production line was churning out different shapes and sizes of Khukri Rum bottles. Most of the process is automated, including screwing bottle caps, sticking labels, placing the government seal, and packaging. The only manual intervention is the quality control where bottles are held against the light to check for sediment and colour. A mural on the wall of the distillery in Balaju depicts the rum-making process. A lady slings sugarcane on her shoulder, the molasses is churned in a pot, water is channelled into the distillation process, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom are added to a container, and finally there is a bottle of the classic Khukri Rum against a Kathmandu backdrop.

Khukri goes premium with new rum

&nbsp;This is the 53rdedition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. I was the first migrant to the Gulf from my village of Chagariya of Dhanusha district. We had heard of people who had gone to Saudi Arabia from neighbouring villages and done well for themselves.&nbsp; There were five children to feed and raise, and we did not have much land. Foreign employment seemed like a good choice. After I left in 1992, many others from my village also became migrant workers, including relatives. I have vivid memories of the day I left home. The whole village showed up to drop me off at the bus station. It was like a wedding. My family members wept, they did not know if I would come back alive. There was so much uncertainty. Nowadays migrating has become so common that people come and go without anyone knowing.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113110_19fd8eadc8fe5ea082dc8ad899dd19643daca0bc7638c1db6e7175a56b56e9dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024112113110_19fd8eadc8fe5ea082dc8ad899dd19643daca0bc7638c1db6e7175a56b56e9dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1768" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> </figure>  Getting on the plane was scary. I had a window seat and the flight attendant helped us with our seat belts and offered us food. I chose the vegetarian meal, and even though they offered beer, I stuck to Dew. Someone from the company was waiting for us at Dammam airport. And the heat! It burnt all the hair on my head. It was impossible without AC. But even in Nepal the heat is suffocating now, and it is hard working on the farm. Seems like we imported not just money, but also the heat from Saudi Arabia. After a couple of months as a labourer, I lost interest in the work. Luckily, I got a job as a company barber since I had experience. I cut the hair of fellow workers from Nepal, India, Pakistan, Korea and the Philippines.&nbsp; The workers did not have to pay, but if they liked it they gave me handsome tips, fruit juice or even a crate of canned Pepsi. I chatted in Hindi with the Indians and Pakistanis. Those working in scaffolding, welding or drivers earned more and tipped better. Low paid workers left less tips, but I did not mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113114_86cc0ffc1a1df040656a31f8876f2d48cc50b6f1f96b4ee8840c2174fce45c98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024112113114_86cc0ffc1a1df040656a31f8876f2d48cc50b6f1f96b4ee8840c2174fce45c98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1791" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> </figure>  I worked in the company’s hair salon which had a fancy revolving chair and big mirror. For off hours and holidays, I had my own makeshift barber corner in camp as my side hustle. I bought my own mirror, hung it on a rod and my clients sat on a stool. I would also drop by one of the salons in the market to earn some extra cash on our days off. Times were different back then. There were no mobiles and my wife had to travel a long way to receive calls on a CDMA phone from Ram Dayal’s shop at a pre-arranged date and time. The calls were brief because they were expensive.&nbsp; We had more detailed communications through cassette tapes that we sent each other. Whenever I felt homesick, I listened to the voices of my wife and children over and over again – especially the girls who were always loud and chirpy. When I missed my family, I would play the tapes on a Sony that I bought for 60 riyal. When I was alone in my camp dorm, I would record whatever I wanted to tell my family, replay the recording and if it was good enough, I sent it to Nepal with some cash, wrapping it all in layers of cellotape.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112113110_d91691006f5ab08532b5a2e76e737c2dfd9edcff175bd5617f9053a4269f17ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024112113110_d91691006f5ab08532b5a2e76e737c2dfd9edcff175bd5617f9053a4269f17ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="2056" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 53"> <figcaption>This is the cassette tape case I had sent home from Saudi Arabia over three decades ago. My handwriting reads: Sender: Ram Dhani Yadav, Saudi Arab (Dammam) Receiver: Sita Devi Yadav, Ward No 3, Chagariya, Nepal </figcaption> </figure>  Every night before going to sleep, I would re-listen to the voices of my family. I kept the player close to my ears at a very low volume as I shared the room with four or five others. Even hearing about mundane everyday things from the village over and over again in the voices of my wife and daughters filled me with joy after work. One day, someone from management said I had a call from Nepal. It was news of my youngest son’s death, and that was a painful moment. He was just 18 months old. In a tape that followed, my family filled in the details: he had died of measles. I responded by recording my own feelings on tape and consoled them. My company offered to send me home on mourning break for a month. What was the point? My son was already gone, so I could not bring him back. Instead, I grieved on my own in Saudi Arabia before I resumed work. The company was kind enough to pay me my basic wages. During my time overseas, I came home thrice. When I left for Saudi Arabia after my third vacation home, I wept as my mother was in poor health and paralysed. I just could not stay away, so three weeks later I returned to Nepal on a one-way ticket. I brought back my barbershop mirror, and it still hangs on my wall. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FDXX3kPW42oc%3Fsi%3DolveYQBO4UYjBKl&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> <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

"The first migrant worker from my village"

Indian film director Kabir Khan is a storyteller who started out as a journalist, made documentaries, then transitioned into an acclaimed director of Bollywood mainstream cinema. Known globally for his ability to fuse political narratives with humanistic stories, Khan is in Kathmandu this week for <a href="https://filmsouthasia.org/" target="_blank">Film Southasia</a> the documentary film festival where he won his first award in 1999. Twenty-five years later, he is back as chief guest and keynote speaker at Film Southasia this week.&nbsp; That Grand Jury Award was for one of his earliest works, The Forgotten Army, a compelling narrative about the Indian National Army’s fight for independence from Britain during World War II. “It was the first award I ever got, it really got me into serious film-making,” Khan told Nepali Times. At the time he used to work as a film director with the Indian journalist <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dviThpWKVQU" target="_blank">Saeed Naqvi</a> travelling all over the world. One visit was to Afghanistan in 2001, where an encounter with a Pakistani guerrilla fighting for the Taliban influenced his debut feature film, Kabul Express.&nbsp; Khan views his time as a documentary filmmaker as the basis, shaping his &nbsp;approach to cinema: “Documentaries teach you that what you hear on the news is not always gospel, it’s someone’s perspective.”&nbsp; This realisation influenced his cinematic language, focusing on the gaps between the evening news lineup, and the real-life stories that should have been. Entering Bollywood to make <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NG6PUj-TUfY" target="_blank">The Forgotten Army</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLu_05bHj8Y" target="_blank">Kabul Express</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iyfUDIsC6A" target="_blank">New York</a> and the blockbuster <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmUl0l8qBXw" target="_blank">Ek Tha Tiger</a> was a deliberate move to get deeper into the politics of everything at a time when Indian cinema in general avoided politics. “When I started, politics was taboo in mainstream cinema,” he explains. “But coming from a documentary background, I couldn’t separate stories from their inherent politics.”&nbsp; Each of his movies carried a strong political undertone, ingrained in real-world observations. Whether crafting documentaries or mainstream dramas, Kabir Khan remains, at his core, a storyteller.&nbsp; His films are inspired by personal experiences and perspectives, and continue to bridge divides in present day India, spark conversations, and celebrate the human spirit.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112104118_239585e19a6f5c7a0de139e26cfa04cea758bd00f32225658e9e14ae2e88a5d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024112104118_239585e19a6f5c7a0de139e26cfa04cea758bd00f32225658e9e14ae2e88a5d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="878" height="1197" loading="lazy" alt="From The Forgotten Army to Bajrangi Bhaijaan NT"> </figure>  “At the end of the day, storytelling is about honesty, staying true to your own voice. If you can connect with your own story, chances are the audience will too,” he says, “I don’t consciously add politics to my films, it’s part of my worldview, my gaze on life.” Khan's films are known for a balance between humanistic narratives and larger socio-political contexts. The director says he does not intentionally look to balance them but the two are inseparable in storytelling. The approach isn’t about consciously creating characters and then fitting politics into them; rather, it’s about letting the story and characters evolve naturally.&nbsp; "A lot of it is instinct," says Khan. "I feel this is the right thing to say and hope people agree with me. It’s not about over analysing or over-constructing, it’s about going with the flow."&nbsp; This was evident in <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/jul/19/bajrangi-bhaijaan-review-salman-khan-india-pakistan-movie" target="_blank">Bajrangi Bhaijaan</a>, where the film defied expectations, not only politically but also in the character of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nwAra0mz_Q&amp;t=26s" target="_blank">Bollywood action superstar Salman Khan</a>.&nbsp; The movie looked into Indian-Pakistani relations through a story steeped in love and innocence. Despite its release while tensions were running high between the two countries in 2015, the film resonated with audiences on both sides of the border, becoming one of Bollywood’s highest-grossing films.&nbsp; “The fact that people embraced it showed they connected with its message of love and understanding,” Khan says. Asked about his most fulfilling project, Khan cites his sports biopic <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/aug/17/nobody-gave-us-a-hope-in-hell-83-the-feelgood-film-about-indias-underdog-cricket-team" target="_blank">83</a>, based on India’s historic 1983 Cricket World Cup victory where Kapil Dev scored a record 175 not out. “It’s not just a cricket story,” he explains. “It’s about a country coming of age, gaining recognition on the global stage.” Khan worked like an investigative journalist to dig up &nbsp;lesser-known facts about the players, fans and viewers, and the result was not just a sports movie but one that celebrated both individual determination and collective triumph. Khan is deeply embedded in South Asian stories, and follows the evolving global perception of the region’s narratives. While the diaspora has amplified regional voices, he says Bollywood’s international reach remains limited.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024112104118_5c5e50ed941297c73f6f42b3508bbc3ebc8824cd052ec5914534803f4587b06d.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2024112104118_5c5e50ed941297c73f6f42b3508bbc3ebc8824cd052ec5914534803f4587b06d" data-rendition-name="original" width="918" height="1338" loading="lazy" alt="From The Forgotten Army to Bajrangi Bhaijaan NT"> </figure>  “Cinema is a reflection of its audience, and as our stories gain more visibility, so does our culture,” says Khan, who sees his role as a cultural ambassador for the region. “I never think about catering to an audience. As an artist, you have to make the film you want to watch,” he asserts.“I don’t shy away from expressing my views on subjects and issues in my films. If your work doesn’t reflect your ideals, what’s the point?”&nbsp; Post-Covid lockdowns, people have been streaming movies at home rather than going to cinemas, leading to declining theatre footfalls. While Khan acknowledges the challenges this poses for traditional cinema, he remains hopeful because “the collective experience of watching a film in a theatre is irreplaceable, filmmakers must offer spectacles that demand the big-screen experience”. The content of Kabir Khan’s work is also ever-evolving because film-making is a dynamic medium, each film is a reaction and portrayal of the time in which it is made.&nbsp; He says, “I’m not the same person who made New York or Ek Tha Tiger. With every film, my worldview and approach change.” Kabir Khan’s new film Chandu Champion about Paralympic boxing gold medalist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murlikant_Petkar" target="_blank">Murlikant Petkar</a>, reflects his love for real-life stories, a trait he traces back to his documentary days.&nbsp; He says, “the film’s message is one of resilience and perseverance. It's a story of the triumph of the human spirit.” How about Nepal as a location for his next film? Khan says he would not just come to Nepal to shoot a song in the stunning landscape here because the connection between the story and location is inseparable. Kabul Express could only have been shot in Afghanistan, New York could only work in New York, and Bajrangi Bhaijaan needed the two sides of Kashmir. Says Khan: ”If I ever find a story that needs to be set in Nepal and can truly bring out its character, I would love to shoot here.” <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FjilnL5ryqaY%3Fsi%3DwWGquF0tENDb-eps&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> <a href="https://filmsouthasia.org/film-southasia-2024-schedule/" target="_blank">Film Southasia</a> Yalamaya Kendra, Patan Dhoka 21-24 November Tickets Rs50 per film

From The Forgotten Army to Bajrangi Bhaijaan

Six weeks after unprecedented floods ravaged the Rosi Khola valley east of Kathmandu, what little relief has reached the survivors is from charities and volunteers. More than 60 of the 250 people killed in the floods in Central Nepal were here in Kavre district, where the Rosi turned into a deadly mudflow from dozens quarries and crusher units upstream. Some 36 of the dead were children.&nbsp; The record breaking rain turned even more destructive because it swept debris down from the sand and stone mining operations in the catchment area of the Rosi. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/politicians-and-cronies-blamed-for-kavre-floods" target="_blank">Sand and boulder removal by contractors</a> along the river bed over the past decade also meant that the river was flowing at extra high velocity.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121120_7147fa6c8b2af6b93d9fe5a28076732edc0a6d00d053d3025a35d01e47735b3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241119121120_7147fa6c8b2af6b93d9fe5a28076732edc0a6d00d053d3025a35d01e47735b3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1184" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121120_6569881fdfa42ff16c6925109ba444620fd309dc7630fb8ca088eeba44138223.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241119121120_6569881fdfa42ff16c6925109ba444620fd309dc7630fb8ca088eeba44138223" data-rendition-name="original" width="1930" height="942" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>  ‘Khola’ in Nepal means ‘stream’, but the Rosi on the day of the deluge on 28 September looked like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers" target="_blank">an angry river of mud</a> that burst its banks and entered settlements, taking away homes, roads, bridges and a 200m portion of the BP Highway linking Kathmandu to the eastern Tarai. The damage to highways alone is Rs 2.5 billion according to the <a href="https://www.bipad.gov.np/uploads/publication_pdf/SitRep_3_-_2024_September_Floods_and_Landslides_Working1.pdf">National Disaster Reduction and Risk Management Authority (NDRRMA)</a>. The Highway has still not been repaired, and a rough bypass track along the river bank has been opened for traffic. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/politicians-and-cronies-blamed-for-kavre-floods" target="_blank">A Himalkhabar/Nepali Times</a> investigation last week found out that many of the owners of crushers mining the mountains to feed Kathmandu’s construction boom are local politicians who awarded front companies contracts. Besides floods, the historic rainfall that dumped half a year’s rainfall in less than two days <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-mountain-fell-on-top-of-us" target="_blank">triggered massive landslides</a> all over the district. The rain was so heavy that even heavily forested mountains are scarred by slope failures.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121120_f21a1a453dc88e2bf266aca7af983cab58d1ca64b76654d99a03de7d8248e149.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241119121120_f21a1a453dc88e2bf266aca7af983cab58d1ca64b76654d99a03de7d8248e149" data-rendition-name="original" width="2947" height="1513" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121120_84f57a619128f88fdd04091dfd5b1c492538e9a3cde0464ae0b42431950eccb8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241119121120_84f57a619128f88fdd04091dfd5b1c492538e9a3cde0464ae0b42431950eccb8" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="1884" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>  More than 9,500 houses were destroyed or damaged in the floods and landslides in Kavre and southern Lalitpur district and more than 16,000 people have been displaced. Like earthquakes in 2015 and 2023, the disaster is expected to increase the already high rate of outmigration from the affected areas. Nearly 100 schools and 70 health posts were damaged, 54 suspension footbridges were destroyed. That is besides Nepal losing 1,200MW (half its hydropower generation capacity) although 700MW are now back in operation. The government in Kathmandu announced a Rs200,000 cash relief to families with fatalities, however many families have not yet got the money. The NDRRMA has also announced the distribution of Rs100,000 in two installments to each family with destroyed or damaged homes for the construction of temporary shelters.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121120_15e9041051f13cba05ca54ded692cc3a9ad69d8781d2cae114812725031417f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241119121120_15e9041051f13cba05ca54ded692cc3a9ad69d8781d2cae114812725031417f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1062" height="1416" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121124_0a136906e013bec344930dcc9ddc71f4e0e427f58f14edb2e7719280cde1cf17.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20241119121124_0a136906e013bec344930dcc9ddc71f4e0e427f58f14edb2e7719280cde1cf17" data-rendition-name="original" width="854" height="481" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119121124_cf3d55a9b1c17330bde330a9fe791d04f4c3a5ded3baec50cd11672a78e32efc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20241119121124_cf3d55a9b1c17330bde330a9fe791d04f4c3a5ded3baec50cd11672a78e32efc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1206" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief NT"> </figure>  The damage that has affected local communities the most is the loss of drinking water supply, pipes bringing spring water to villages were taken out by landslides. This has meant that many local families have been forced to drink contaminated water with children becoming sick. The NDRMMA says about 2.5 million people in Central Nepal are affected by the damage to drinking water supply because pipes, water tanks, treatment plants and other facilities were swept away. The damage is estimated at Rs3.5 billion and the Authority has appealed to donor agencies for relief. Kavre’s Malpi City School which was also damaged in the floods, organised a fund-raiser among faculty and alumni to buy 2,000m of piping for the communities of Bethanchok which was badly hit by landslides.&nbsp; Photos: JYOTI MAN SHERCHAN, ARCHANA DARJI, AND SHAMSHAD AHMAD

Nepal flood survivors still waiting for relief

South Asians are coming together to celebrate the stories of this region at the biennial film festival, Film Southasia (FSA), which starts on 21 November. It coincides with the COP29 climate summit in Baku, Azerbaijan.&nbsp; This year’s four-day event showcases documentaries from Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka, and even one from Mongolia, although that country is in Central Asia.&nbsp; This year’s theme is Documentary in Anthropocene, with a lineup of films that explore human interaction with nature, especially in the context of climate breakdown. “The climate crisis has been the major challenge in the Anthropocene era and climate crisis respects no border. With one fourth of the world population in South Asia, we as neighbours should closely look into these issues together,” states FSA director Mitu Varma.&nbsp; While some documentaries specifically explore the impact of the climate crisis on the region’s land and people, other films highlight the interconnectedness between people and time, nature, or other people divided by borders. “Humankind practices and leads life with the concept of othering and acting as if their lives are free from the connection with nature. This year’s lineup will help retrospect the interconnectedness,” adds Varma. “But it is not all doom and gloom, the movies are also hopeful about human-nature symbiosis.”&nbsp; With over 2,000 submissions, FSA selected only 47. The carefully curated lineup will be screened at Yala Maya Kendra over next week. The FSA festival has, for over two decades, been a platform that brings South Asian filmmakers and audiences together.&nbsp; Producers and directors of 27 of the documentaries will be attending the festival and may explore cross-country collaboration on future film projects. Along with the film screenings, a Director Workshop with filmmaker Kabir Khan, and panel discussions about FSA’s slogan and the evolution and success of Nepali documentaries will also be taking place. The panel discussions and film screenings will happen simultaneously, so the attendees will have to plan their schedules accordingly. Two other master classes, and a discussion on financing and editing with industry experts will also take place in collaboration with the British Council’s WOW (Women of the World) festival and audio-visual production company KathaHaru.&nbsp; FSA also organises Travelling Film Southasia tours, in which up to 15 of the selected films are screened around the globe, mostly at universities. Says Pawas Manandhar of FSA: “We want to cultivate a sense of appreciation among the younger people for documentaries in the age of 30-second TikToks.”&nbsp; <h2>In the spotlight</h2> Hello Guyzz!  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071132_f98428bad27e80d73e744b03cdeb665bff145d4d58acb0c0df1691546223cec2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241119071132_f98428bad27e80d73e744b03cdeb665bff145d4d58acb0c0df1691546223cec2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="914" loading="lazy" alt="Hello Guyzz NT"> </figure>  One of the student films at FSA, this 24-minute long documentary features Sumita, a social media influencer in a small town in Bengal. Sumita has an alternate identity on TikTok, and straddles identities between a mundane life as a housewife and the desired life of being a successful influencer. She also harbors hopes of maybe fulfilling her long-lost dream of becoming an actor. 21 November, 12:20PM Whispers by the River Shore&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071132_f02e3702cf79cf5de38d8bf7381bf32e0391b7313288f1f5f4011ddcd2b3a9c8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241119071132_f02e3702cf79cf5de38d8bf7381bf32e0391b7313288f1f5f4011ddcd2b3a9c8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Whispers by the River Shore NT"> </figure>  River encroachment results in a Bangladeshi family’s fortunes being swept away. This 19-minute long documentary, directed by Samiur Rahman, sheds light on the humans living in encroached land near the river. It is a story all the more relevant to Kathmandu.&nbsp; 21 November, 1:50PM When the Floods Come&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071132_3c9860b2ba62293e712016ba6134ebdf269853410cf56c4d582a4ba023d08375.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241119071132_3c9860b2ba62293e712016ba6134ebdf269853410cf56c4d582a4ba023d08375" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="When the floods come NT"> </figure>  Directed by Pakistani-American Nyal Mueenuddin, this documentary won a BAFTA Award for the portrayal of the intimate stories of people affected by the 2022 flood on the Indus River. Mueenuddin has prioritised human emotion, empathy and compassion. The subject is relatable for a Nepali audience, as climate change makes the region even more vulnerable to extreme weather.&nbsp; 22 November, 10AM Nocturnes&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071128_28f8cac4679824be8709473ed44e84c25adf266095be3717b4ee9cbbb91b0477.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241119071128_28f8cac4679824be8709473ed44e84c25adf266095be3717b4ee9cbbb91b0477" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1318" loading="lazy" alt="Nocturnes NT"> </figure>  In a remote ecological hot spot on the India-Bhutan border, director duo Anupama Srinivasan and Anirban Dutta explore the secret world of moths. This 82-minute film takes viewers to rarely-seen places where moths gather, and urges us all to retrospect about interconnections in the natural world. 22 November, 2:45PM Devi  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071136_b5c5753dc392a8d0f486d8a9c07b7d56ebae51e040d3d21c6ebac94b299d8557.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241119071136_b5c5753dc392a8d0f486d8a9c07b7d56ebae51e040d3d21c6ebac94b299d8557" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="906" loading="lazy" alt="Devi NT"> </figure>  This feature-length documentary by Nepali journalist and director Subina Shrestha garnered attention internationally in Hot Docs, Doc Edge and DMZ Docs. It follows the life of Devi Khadka, a rebel warrior, mother and survivor of sexual violence during the civil war. This is the first time this 80-minute film will be shown in Nepal.&nbsp; 22 November, 6PM No Monastery No Village&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071136_a2fc110c3116ccb1b772b7bd731bed78cfc5c2121e85d60d9ff14f30bc873382.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241119071136_a2fc110c3116ccb1b772b7bd731bed78cfc5c2121e85d60d9ff14f30bc873382" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="No Monastery No Village NT"> </figure>  High up in the secluded village of Halji in Humla, a Glacier Lake Outburst Flood threatens a century-old monastery and the village with a population of 500. This 28-minute documentary, directed by Nepali climate activist Tashi Lhazom, highlights the faith and resilience of the villagers' fight to preserve their way of life.&nbsp; 23 November, 2PM Agent of Happiness  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071136_6153b4bd7c3602d44309e336f9f214ef1ba36e0208b16cd4f8363a4b38bf6f19.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241119071136_6153b4bd7c3602d44309e336f9f214ef1ba36e0208b16cd4f8363a4b38bf6f19" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="Agent of Happiness NT"> </figure>  Directed by Arun Bhattarai from Bhutan and Dorottya Zurbó from Hungary, this feature-length documentary follows a surveyor who measures happiness as per the GNH (Gross National Happiness) index in Bhutan, as he goes on a quest searching for his own happiness. This year’s opening film for FSA, this 90-minute documentary will be screened on Saturday.&nbsp; 23 November, 4:15PM Hollywoodgate  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071136_41dbf1181f697611d83d653cfcd013473c3b50e55d8a742de430400d6859d28a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241119071136_41dbf1181f697611d83d653cfcd013473c3b50e55d8a742de430400d6859d28a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1850" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Hollywoodgate NT"> </figure>  Director Ibrahim Nash'at documents the transformation as the US militia abandons operations in Afghanistan, and the Taliban occupy their bases and transform into a military regime. This movie was nominated for and has won internation film awards. &nbsp; 23 November, 6:30PM The World is Family  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071136_a52b451e30c7ed76091029a0e80ddfc610e7901f712be94840271b0dbac22f1c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241119071136_a52b451e30c7ed76091029a0e80ddfc610e7901f712be94840271b0dbac22f1c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="874" loading="lazy" alt="The World is Family NT"> </figure>  Born to a family of freedom fighters, director Anand Pathwardan explores his family’s connection to India’s Independence Movement. This 96-minute long documentary is a personal exploration and a window to India's past and the present. Pathwardan is a FSA alumnus.&nbsp; 24 November, 3:05PM All That Breathes  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241119071140_d552dde6a1ab4ef90d76559f0908fb9a0491666993c01637f65545005bc0a8bd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241119071140_d552dde6a1ab4ef90d76559f0908fb9a0491666993c01637f65545005bc0a8bd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1359" height="890" loading="lazy" alt="All That Breathes NT"> </figure>  This Oscar-nominated documentary tells the story of two brothers, Nadeem and Mohammad, who have dedicated their lives to protect the black kite in New Delhi. Director Shaunak Sen looks at inter-species coexistence in an urban setting in this 94-minute movie, which will be Film Southasia’s closing documentary.&nbsp; 24 November, 6PM Film Southasia 21-24 November Yala Maya Kendra Entry: Rs50 per film

Documenting the Anthropocene

Nearly 750,000 Nepalis went abroad for employment in the past year, and more than 100,000 left on student visas. Most of them were young Nepali men and women, and the number has been increasing every year. As with other sections of society, Nepal’s security agencies also face a recruitment crisis. Nepal Police opened recruitment for 64 inspectors in September, and received 2,239 applications, compared to 2,718 candidates last year. Police also invited candidates for 256 assistant sub-inspectors this year for which it received 17,756 applications – down from 19,932 last year. It is the same story in the Nepal Army, the number of applicants for the post of Officer Cadet (Second Lieutenant) went down from 6,144 for 400 open seats in 2019 to 4,390 in 2020. Meanwhile, applicants in the paramilitary Armed Police Force went down from 857 applications for 75 posts in 2021 to 536 applicants for 99 posts last year. While the number of applicants appears higher than the demand, the data shows a significant decrease in applications for vacancies in Nepal’s law enforcement agencies. Security personnel are recruited on the basis of rank and age in Nepal, and the age cutoff for entry into Nepal’s security agencies is typically 25 years. Sociologist and migration expert Ganesh Gurung says that the demographic of young, physically fit Nepalis emigrating abroad in search of better opportunities has impacted recruitment into law enforcement and the military here at home. “The returns from working in Nepal’s police and army are minimal, whereas overseas job opportunities are more attractive,” Gurung says. “The work may be physically demanding abroad, but the pay is a lot higher.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116041148_a7e477e0ee2f56acf16c2559fdb24d8f0377f7bc1f9e56138bc40108fc4fa33f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241116041148_a7e477e0ee2f56acf16c2559fdb24d8f0377f7bc1f9e56138bc40108fc4fa33f" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="534" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Police"><figcaption>Nepal Police</figcaption></figure>  Nepal Police spokesperson DIG Dan Bahadur Karki agrees that the physical and mental demands of a law enforcement job is incomparable to the income that security personnel earn. “A young Nepali who works in Dubai earns enough to build a home in the village within four years, while a Nepali with the same qualifications and physical ability in a security agency here barely makes enough to survive,” says Karki. “Obviously the youth prefer foreign employment.” Security agencies are now worried about the quality of inducted manpower. “There is a difference in work ethic between an applicant chosen from a competitive pool of 50 candidates versus one chosen from a pool of three candidates,” explains Gurung. “Unmotivated employees hamper the overall performance of the state apparatus.” Nepal Army spokesperson Brigadier General Gaurab Kumar KC says recruitment has not been hampered by outmigration: “We have still been getting more than three times the applicants than there are open posts, so we are not yet worried.” Even so, the passing rates of aspirants have gone down for security forces after the Public Service Commission began examinations for military recruitment in 2015. In fact, the Nepal Army complained about the Commission’s involvement in recruitment. Still, the number of vacant military posts tends to exceed the number of passing candidates. Nepal Army’s KC says that the military will not compromise on intake criteria even if there are fewer passing applicants. “Unqualified persons will not be admitted even if there are less-than-required passing candidates. We will re-advertise if that is the case.” But Nepal’s security forces now also have to worry about retention of existing personnel. About 900 Nepal Army, 600 Nepal Police, and 300 Armed police personnel resign every year before the completion of their tenure.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116041148_b8cd62f70eea3aac7d3d3778615a5b70b1e20550c9bd76321f051f9c766fd2a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241116041148_b8cd62f70eea3aac7d3d3778615a5b70b1e20550c9bd76321f051f9c766fd2a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="378" loading="lazy" alt="Armed police forces"><figcaption>Armed Police Force</figcaption></figure>  In 2020, Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa recalled almost 1,000 police personnel who had been deployed for the security of VIPs after long-standing criticism that security forces were being misused to cater to political and bureaucratic leadership. However, security personnel have continued to be assigned to high-ranking officials as glorified housekeepers. In December 2022, Rabi Lamichhane’s Home Ministry had instructed its offices to recall unauthorised security personnel assigned to high-ranking officials, following which 500 officers from Nepal Police and Armed Police Force were withdrawn from their details. But the Nepal Army does not have to follow such rules, and the practice of army personnel serving high-ranking active-duty and retired military personnel remains. Conditions here are dire enough that many active duty officers in Nepal’s military and police forces have chosen to leave their jobs to serve in the Russian Army to fight in the Ukraine war. The hierarchical culture and chain of command of politics, bureaucracy, law enforcement and military has also meant that abuse and mistreatment of subordinates is rife in Nepal’s security forces. “Feudalism is alive and well within our security institutions,” says Gurung. “When soldiers and security forces who swore to protect and serve the nation are made to be at the beck and call of politicians and bureaucrats, it is easy to understand why they are disillusioned with their jobs and why they choose to quit and find jobs abroad.”

Job insecurity in security forces

The daily 10-hour curfew at Tribhuvan International Airport from 8 November that will last five months has affected tourism during Nepal’s peak season, with some hotels and trekking agencies here reporting cancellations into spring next year. The reduced hours at Nepal’s main aviation gateway till 31 March means that a third of all flights have been cut. This has also caused ticket prices to surge by up to eight times of normal fares. For example a Kathmandu-Delhi ticket that used to cost Rs12,000 is now listed at Rs50,000, and even then seats are not available.&nbsp; “Especially if they are here to trek, change in flight dates can cause tourists to miss their connections,” says Jagan Timilsina, who runs a trail running and outdoor education business. &nbsp; Pokhara is feeling the brunt as hotels report last-minute cancellations for November because of flight disorders. Some hoteliers also say although there have been some cancelled trips, most itineraries have been rescheduled.&nbsp; Hari Prasad Sharma Gaire of the local chapter of the Hotel Association of Nepal says the Kathmandu airport closure should have been timed for the off-season. He told us: “Starting construction during the peak tourist season was a mistake and will cause the tourism industry to lose a lot of business. The upgrade could have been spread out over a longer time but closed for fewer hours at night so that disruption was minimal.”&nbsp; Nearly a third of the 1.2 million tourists who visit Nepal annually come to Pokhara, which is also the gateway to Mustang, the Annapurna treks and pilgrimage tourism to Muktinath. Located by scenic lakes with a range of adventure sports like hot air ballooning, paragliding, canyoning, bungee and ziplines, Pokhara is also popular among diaspora Nepalis. “Besides its own attractions, Pokhara is really the hub for central Nepal, and we have been trying to get visitors to extend their stay here,” says Timilsina, who started out as a trekking porter and rose up the ranks to be an expedition guide and entrepreneur. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024111603114_0e071ce63ea9b0a9a7ee76f8c3cea0ff08c6767c41dd09f6bc4413d2db067a60.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024111603114_0e071ce63ea9b0a9a7ee76f8c3cea0ff08c6767c41dd09f6bc4413d2db067a60" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2333" loading="lazy" alt="Pokhara's tourism woes NT"> <figcaption>Tourist arrivals in Pokhara have slumped since the disruptions at Kathmandu airport due to upgrading work. Photo: KRISHNA MANI BARAL/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Even without the Kathmandu airport closure affecting tourist arrivals, Pokhara was already suffering from a decline due to many factors like the poor state of the Prithvi Highway, the shortage of luxury accommodation for high-end tourists, and the reluctance of international airlines to start direct flights to Pokhara despite an expensive new airport that was inaugurated two years ago.&nbsp; “There was a lot of initial excitement on the construction of the international airport,” says Timilsina, “but it hasn’t delivered as expected due to politics. People have invested in nearby businesses, and have faced losses.” India has blocked direct flights from its cities to Pokhara because the facility was built by a Chinese company. Although tourists and pilgrims from India hit record levels this year, the poor state of the highways and the Indian bus accident on the highway to Kathmandu in July that killed 27 pilgrims from Maharashtra state dampened arrival figures. Gaire says, “While tourist arrivals to Pokhara are now approaching pre-Covid levels, we haven’t seen the improvement we were expecting. We need a better marketing strategy. What are our embassies abroad doing?”&nbsp; Indeed, Pokhara used to be a favourite destination for Chinese tourists. There was a boom in arrivals from China before Covid, especially after a popular Chinese tv serial was shot on location here. But arrivals from China have not really recovered since the pandemic because of the economic slowdown there. Promoting Pokhara airport to handle direct flights from Chengdu or Kunming could revive Chinese arrivals.&nbsp; Nepal’s Civil Aviation Authority (CAAN) has used the Kathmandu airport closure as an excuse to arm-twist international airlines to start flying to Bhairawa, which has barely been in operation for two years since it was inaugurated. So far, Fly Dubai, Thai AirAsia, Jazeera and Qatar are flying to Bhairawa, but most use it as a hop before flying on to Kathmandu, which does not reduce congestion at Kathmandu.&nbsp; An ideal situation could have been to get Pokhara to run to full capacity while Kathmandu is partially out of action. Pokhara entrepreneurs are puzzled why the CAAN and the national government have not taken more interest in promoting Pokhara as an alternative to reduce the congestion in Kathmandu. Nepal’s football team that was flying to Dushanbe this week couldn’t get tickets via Delhi, and took a domestic flight to Bhadrapur, crossed over to Bagdogra and flew on to Delhi to catch their flight to Tajikistan.

Pokhara’s tourism woes

Top news

One of the highest-profile cases of extrajudicial killing during the conflict was of 15-year-old Maina Sunar of Kavre who was taken in by the Army and tortured for being a Maoist suspect. The case represents the true horror and tragedy of the insurgency, regardless of which side committed the war crimes.
Excerpt of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2024">report</a> published in Nepali Times this week 20 years ago in <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_222.pdf">issue #222 19 – 25 November 2004</a>:
Purna Bahadur Sunuwar and his wife Debi had just hit another dead end in the search of their 15-year-old daughter, Maina, who had been taken away by soldiers eight months ago. An army patrol from the Lamidanda barrack in Kabhre had arrested Maina from her home on 17 Feburary 2004 for being a suspected Maoist.
Purna Bahadur and Debi had gone to the army base the next day only to be told that their daughter was not there. After a story about Maina's disappearance came out in Himal Khabarpatrika in April, human rights organisations and the military's legal department finally took notice. Even at that time, the Royal Nepali Army's legal officers told us: "We are investigating, we can't say anything at the moment." At the same time, the family and neighbours also told human rights groups they were being harassed by local soldiers.
In September, after Maina's trail in Kathmandu went cold, we accompanied her parents to Kabhre. The Sunuwars live relatively well by rural Nepali standards in a two-storey rato mato house. Rats scamper away as we open the door to an upstairs room where Maina used to sleep. There is a battered tin trunk and Maina's hand bag and slippers. Debi begins to sob as she sees them. Neighbours told us they had seen Maina being taken into the barracks on the day she disappeared.
&nbsp;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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